He was knelt down in front of you on the couch, checking every inch of you for even the smallest cut. You had been taken by one of his enemies, and he was visibly angry

He lifted up your shirt, examining your stomach and chest. “There’s a cut.” His voice was cold, he looked angry. There was the smallest cut along your waist, he was mad.

He stood up and kissed your forehead. “Don’t worry, i’ll take care of them.” His voice was cold and harsh, but his touch was gentle.