That was all Alistair needed. In an instant he was back in his body again, and he dove for the bars. Success was his. Tanith was off her guard. And she had made the terrible mistake of once again putting herself within reach of Alistair's prison.
He landed on his knees against the silver bars, and pressed himself tightly against them. His level of excitement was still so high that the pain didn't register in his mind at all. When Tanith reached out to catch her fall, he moved -- lightning quick -- and seized the hand that still held that vial. He yanked and twisted until it dropped and rolled away. Then he braced her arm, holding her hand in one of his and her elbow in another, and yanked her arm back against the bars of his cell with all his strength. He heard several bones snap. Her forearm was bent at a cruel, unnatural angle. Alistair did not hesitate. Tanith would learn this lesson well. Still holding with all his strength, he bit into the flesh of her broken arm. He drove hard with his jaws until his fangs hit a shard of broken bone.
The taste of her blood and pain was exquisite. He had never experienced anything like it before. It was not everything he had always hoped it would be. . . it was more.