Chapter 291

Alexander slumped against the foyer wall, the sudden illumination revealing his forehead glistening with cold sweat.

His usually vibrant features had drained of color, those famously sensual lips now pale as parchment, giving him the appearance of someone who'd suffered severe blood loss.

Evelyn's heart lurched as she dashed forward, fingers digging into his forearm with desperate urgency. "Alex! What happened? Are you injured?"

The moment her hand made contact with his black tailored suit, she recoiled at the unexpected dampness.

Her palm came away crimson.

Horror gripped her as she realized his entire jacket was saturated with blood.

"Show me where you're hurt!" she demanded, already working to unbutton his shirt with trembling fingers.

Alexander watched her frantic movements, those stormy eyes darkening with something primal. Without warning, he seized the nape of her neck and pinned her against the wall, claiming her mouth in a searing kiss that stole her breath.

No one had ever looked at him with such raw concern.

Through years of navigating danger and violence, he'd grown accustomed to bloodstained shirts and untreated wounds. But Evelyn's reaction shattered his defenses.

His kiss spoke volumes - gratitude, desperation, and something deeper neither dared name. The metallic tang of blood mingled with their shared breath as his fingers tangled in her hair, anchoring her to him as if she might disappear.

Evelyn could feel his racing heartbeat through the blood-soaked fabric, each frantic thud mirroring her own. The coppery scent filled her nostrils, yet she couldn't bring herself to pull away. Not when he clung to her like a drowning man to driftwood.

When they finally broke apart, Alexander rested his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged. "I'm fine," he murmured, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him.

Evelyn's hands framed his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Like hell you are," she whispered fiercely.

A ghost of a smile touched his lips before his knees buckled. Evelyn barely caught him as his full weight collapsed against her, the wall the only thing keeping them both upright.

"Alexander!"

His eyelids fluttered as he fought to stay conscious. "Just... need a minute," he slurred, his body betraying his words as he slid down the wall.

Evelyn's pulse pounded in her ears as she finally got his jacket open, revealing the crimson blossom spreading across his white dress shirt.

The sight stole her breath.

There was so much blood. Too much.

Her fingers flew to her phone even as she pressed her free hand against the wound, applying pressure. "Stay with me," she ordered, voice cracking. "That's an order, Alexander Whitmore."

His weak chuckle turned into a cough that speckled his lips with red. "Yes, ma'am."

As she shouted their address into the phone, Evelyn realized with terrifying clarity that the man who'd built an empire through sheer willpower was now fighting for his life in her arms.

And she'd be damned if she let him lose this battle.

The sensation of someone genuinely caring for him was foreign, yet it melted the icy walls around his heart.

Alexander shut his eyes, surrendering to the kiss, craving to become one with Evelyn in that moment.

But she jerked her head away, golden eyes blazing with frustration. "Alexander Whitmore, have you lost your mind?"

She couldn't fathom how he could even think of kissing her right now.

Her palms pressed firmly against his chest as she shoved him back. "You're bleeding everywhere!"

"I'm aware," he murmured, his lips quirking. "But my mouth works just fine."

Evelyn gaped at him. How could he be so infuriatingly calm while drenched in his own blood?

"It's not life-threatening. You're worrying too much," Alexander said, his voice low and teasing.

Before she could protest, he yanked her against him, burying his face in the curve of her neck. The familiar scent of her shampoo grounded him.

His weight sagged against her, his breathing uneven. Whether from exhaustion or injury, she couldn’t tell.

"Mrs. Whitmore," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin, "back at the academy..."

The crimson stain spread across Alexander's shirt like spilled wine.

Evelyn's hands trembled as they hovered over the wound.

"Stop saying it's nothing!" Her voice cracked. "You're bleeding everywhere!"

Alexander chuckled, wincing as he caught her wrist. "Sweetheart, in my line of work? Papercuts hurt worse."

She couldn't believe his nonchalance. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, making her stomach churn.

His thumb brushed her cheek where tears had carved paths. "Your tears hurt me more than this scratch ever could."

Then he kissed her—slow, deliberate presses against her damp skin. Each one whispered promises against her jawline.

"See? Best medicine." His grin was wolfish despite the pallor of his face.

Evelyn recoiled. "Are you insane? We need an ambulance!"

Alexander caught her waist before she could stand. "Mrs. Whitmore," he murmured against her lips, "I've survived worse with just whiskey and stitches."

Her fingers dug into his shoulders. "What kind of life did you live before me?"

The question hung between them like shattered glass.

Alexander's smile faded. He pressed his forehead to hers. "One where pain was background noise."

Evelyn's breath hitched. She grabbed the first aid kit with newfound determination.

"No more kisses until you're stitched up," she declared, tearing open antiseptic wipes. "And if you bleed out? I'll kill you myself."

Alexander's laughter echoed through the room—rich, warm, and utterly infuriating.

"Promise?" he teased, watching her shaky hands work.

Evelyn swatted his uninjured arm. "Try me."

Outside, sirens wailed in the distance. Neither of them moved to call for help.

Some battles were meant to be fought alone.

But this? This wound she'd dress herself.

Because Alexander Whitmore might be used to suffering in silence—but Evelyn Carter refused to let him.

Not anymore.