Page 109 of Knot Heirs: Serenity's Reign

Her body ached pleasantly from the previous night's activities, but her contentment evaporated when she turned to see Ronan's battered face in the morning light.

"Jesus Christ," she whispered, sitting up abruptly.

His handsome features were marred by a split lip, a bruise blooming across his cheekbone, and dried blood crusted at his hairline. Even in sleep, his expression was tense, jaw clenched against the pain.

Serenity slipped from the bed, wincing as her bare feet hit the cold floor. She padded across the room, retrieving the first aid kit she'd spotted in the bathroom cabinet yesterday. Some instinct told her a man like Ronan Drake would keep medical supplies well-stocked.

She was right. The kit contained everything from butterfly bandages to prescription-strength painkillers. Alphas and their damn fighting instincts.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Ronan's voice, rough with sleep, startled her as she settled beside him on the bed.

"What does it look like?" She unscrewed the cap on a bottle of antiseptic. "Cleaning up your mess."

"I don't need?—"

"Shut up," Serenity said mildly, dabbing a cotton ball with antiseptic. "This might sting."

Ronan's green eyes narrowed, but he remained still as she touched the cotton to his split lip. His sharp intake of breath was the only indication of pain.

"Your opponent got in some good hits," she commented, working methodically through his injuries. "Must have been someone special."

"Fucker caught me off guard," Ronan growled. "Won't happen again."

The intimacy of tending his wounds wasn't lost on Serenity. Her fingertips grazed his skin with a gentleness she rarely showed. For all her calculated precision in business, there was something primal about caring for an injured Alpha.

"You're good at this," Ronan murmured, watching her through hooded eyes.

"Not my first rodeo with injuries." She applied antibiotic ointment to a particularly nasty cut near his eyebrow. "I worked my way through grad school. Wasn't always in the safest neighborhoods."

His eyebrows lifted slightly. "Thought you Vale princesses were born with silver spoons."

"I didn't know I was a Vale until recently, remember?" She pressed a butterfly bandage across the cut with perhaps more pressure than necessary.

Ronan's hand caught her wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle for a man with such violence in his past. "I remember everything about you, Omega."

The way he said "Omega" should have angered her—it was possessive, presumptuous—but the heat in his gaze made her stomach flip instead.

"Hold still," she said, ignoring the fluttering sensation. "I'm not finished."

He released her wrist but continued watching as she worked, his green eyes tracking her every movement. The silence between them was charged but not uncomfortable.

"Why are you helping me?" he finally asked as she finished bandaging a cut on his knuckles.

Serenity considered the question. "Because you're hurt. Because..." She hesitated, surprising herself with her honesty. "Because for some fucked-up reason, I care."

A smirk tugged at his injured lip. "So the ice queen has a heart after all."

"Don't push it, Drake." But there was no bite to her words.

She finished cleaning the last of his wounds, her fingers lingering on his jaw where a bruise was forming. His skin was hot beneath her touch, Alpha heat radiating through him.

"You should eat something," she said, pulling away. "With those painkillers."

"Planning to play nurse all morning?" The edge in his voice had softened to something almost teasing.

"Someone has to." She stood, gathering the bloodied cotton balls and wrappers. "You're not exactly in shape to be prowling around."

"I've had worse."

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