A flash of a memory.

Waylon’s on his back, and my face is pressed to his neck as I inhale him just under his ear. I can feel his pulse beating rapidly against my chin, and my lips become a missile aimed straight for that fluttering swatch of skin.

I hold my mouth there. Feeling his pulse beat against my lips.

His nails scratch along my back as he arches up against me. His cock, hot and heavy against my belly, slides right up below my sternum.

My hands are spread wide around his rib-cage and I—

I shove the image away. It’s not the time for that.

Feeling eyes on me, I look up to find Reggie watching me with an odd glint in his gaze. He glances down to my neck, right where—

Oh God.

Oh shit.

I fight the urge to cover Waylon up, but there’s no use. It’s too late. And I’m the dumbass who had to brand his neck like a fucking caveman.

Stupid, stupid, stupid—

“W-Will?”

Frowning, I meet Waylon’s dull hazel eyes. He blinks heavily but at least he can open both his eyes now. His pupils are all but non-existent.

“What did you take?” I ask him.

His nose wrinkles, and he tries to shake his head.

Reggie’s fingers are pressed to his neck—right over the fucking hickey I gave his nephew, for fuck’s sake. “Pulse seems a little sluggish, but I think he’s okay.”

Waylon smacks his lips and drops his gaze, seeming to zone out with his eyes trained somewhere on my chest.

The door opens, chatter and music escaping into the night.

I look over to see that greasy, scrawny couple I saw earlier. The woman with bleached hair rubs her hands over her arms in a way that tells me she’s itching for something a little stronger than alcohol.

“Oh hey,” she slurs, “Sleeping Beauty’s ‘wake.”

My brows drop into a suspicious frown as the man next to her starts rooting around in his pockets.

Ivy finally unglues herself from her spot and comes to stand by us, giving the couple a wide berth.

“You give him something?” Reggie asks tightly. I notice he’s gone stiff as a board, and I once again seek out the scrawny man, my eyes dropping to where he fists something in his hand. I can’t make out what it is at first.

The woman seems to bounce on her toes anxiously, a dazed smile still fixed to her face. “Poor kid said he hasn’t been sleeping—”

My frown deepens when the man shoves up his sleeve, and that’s when I see it. Right out in the fucking open.

“—and he asked if we had anything to help, so—”

“So you fucking shot him up?” I shout.

The woman seems to cower in on herself.