Damon’s POV
Drake looked like hell. Pale, clammy, and barely able to sit upright, he was hanging on by a thread. Aria knelt beside him, calm and focused, but I could feel the tension rolling off her. She reached into her bag, pulling out a small flask I didn’t even know she had.
“What are you doing?” I asked, crouching down beside her.
“Saving him,” she said simply, like it was obvious.
She unscrewed the flask and then, without hesitation, dragged a claw across her palm, letting her blood drip into the container.
“Here, Drake,” she said, lifting his head with one hand while tipping the flask to his lips with the other. “Drink this.”
At first, nothing happened, and for a moment, I thought she’d lost her mind. Then his breathing evened out, the color started returning to his face, and
