RIKA
My hands were shaking.
I stared at them, at the mess on my fingers, at Damon sprawled back against the couch with his chest heaving and his dark jeans pushed down his hips and his eyes half closed and glassy, and my brain was doing this thing where it kept trying to rewind the last ten minutes and find the exact moment where helping became this.
I couldn't find it. It had happened in increments, each one small enough to justify, and now I was crouched in front of my Alpha with his release on my hands and my own c**k pressing painfully against my zipper and the only explanation I had was that I was just helping. That was just it.
He was drugged. Declan had put something in his water and the poison was still in his blood and Damon would never look at me with, not in his sober state
