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“Dressler’s a whacked-out sadist,” she huffed out as she reached the table again and picked up one of the bags. “He drugged and dropped me here too.”
Domitian frowned. “Why would he—?” The words stopped on a gurgle as she suddenly held the bag over his mouth and punctured it with the knife, sending a torrent of the thick liquid splashing into his open mouth and onto his face.
Swallowing the mouthful he’d first got, he turned his head to the side to avoid the flow and snapped, “What the hell are you doing?” as the liquid now continued to pour out over the side of his head.
“Trying to feed you,” she said with exasperation. Catching him firmly by the chin, she tried to force his head back to its original position. “Open your mouth.”
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