Page 91 of Bought By the Ruthless Pakhan

Blood seeped through his sleeve, spreading slowly like an ugly, vicious flower.

"Ivan—"

My voice shot up before I could stop it.

All the anger and resentment evaporated in that instant.

"You—you're hurt?"

How was he hurt?

In my mind, he'd always been invincible.

Someone that formidable—how could he be hurt?

He gritted his teeth. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. Still, he waved it off. "I'm fine, kitten. Don't be scared."

"First aid kit, first aid!" Tears came harder now. "Where's the kit?"

I tore through the room like a madwoman.

Ivan sat on the bed, completely unhurried. Actually laughed.

He pointed. Top shelf of the storage cabinet. "Up there."

My feet felt like jelly on the carpet. I finally found the kit and brought it over.

"Hold still. This might hurt."

He leaned back against the headboard and unbuttoned his shirt. Pulled it off.

His body was still beautifully sculpted. Clean lines of muscle across his abs. Shoulders broad enough to weather any storm.

"Like what you see?"

The teasing voice floated above my head.

I met his eyes. That familiar smirk tugged at his mouth. Cold sweat still clung to his temples, but he played it off like nothing.

I cleared my throat and looked at the wound.

The stitches from before had torn open. Blood ran down the curve of his arm.

"How did it get this bad?"

Ivan said nothing.

His gray-blue eyes were heavy, veiled with fog, hiding too many secrets.

I bit my lip and didn't ask again.

I cleaned the wound with saline, then disinfected it with iodine.

Pain made a vein jump at his temple. His hand rested on my waist the whole time, fingers tracing lazy circles.

Itchy. Tingling.

I cursed him silently.