Page 27 of Temptation and Tyranny

“Oh my god, what happened?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt as I helped him to the couch. His body was feverish against mine, his familiar scent mingling with the metallic tang of blood. Growing up in my father’s household, I was able to recognize the smell by the time I was six, and saw my first gunshot wound by eight. My mind flashed back, and unbiddenly, the memories of our butler stitching up my father came rushing back. The parallel startled me, and for a second, I was so frightened that I almost kicked Cooper out of my apartment right then and there. It was a good reminder that this wasn’t a person I wanted to be involved with in any personal capacity.

He groaned as he sank into the cushions. “Got shot.” His snarky attitude was back at the surface, and it was obvious to me it was because he was trying to hide how injured he really was. I knew him well enough now to know that it was his defense mechanism.

I knelt beside him, my hands already moving to assess his injuries. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that. Where exactly are you shot?” I felt my temper rise, angry at him for putting me in this situation, and, even though I didn’t want to admit it, angry at him for getting hurt like this.

“Shoulder,” he muttered, his eyes fluttering closed. “But…my head. Super dizzy.”

Slipping into professional mode, I gently probed his shoulder. The fabric of his shirt was sticky with blood, clinging to his skin. “I need to take a look at this wound. Can you remove your shirt and jacket?”

Cooper’s eyes opened, a flicker of his usual mischief in their depths, despite the pain he was in. “Trying to get me undressed already?”

I felt heat rise to my cheeks but kept my voice clinical. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Moreau. This is purely medical.” As soon as there was blood involved, my formal demeanor returned.

He attempted to shrug off his jacket but winced, his face contorting in pain. Without thinking, I moved closer, my hands going to the collar of his jacket. “Here, let me help.”

As I eased the jacket off his shoulders, I became acutely aware of our proximity. Cooper’s breath touched my cheek, his expression aflame with a desire that made my heart thunder. The jacket fell away, and I turned my attention to his shirt buttons.

My fingers trembled slightly as I undid each button, revealing more of Cooper’s toned chest. I tried to maintain my distance, but it was impossible to ignore the warmth of his skin, the way his muscles tensed under my touch. My eye caught on his upper chest, and Ifinally got a full look at the tattoo I’d glimpsed before. A large outline of a cobra spanned his upper pectoral.

“Like I said, if you wanted to get me naked, Allegra, you could have just asked,” Cooper murmured, his voice low and husky.

I ignored the way my first name sounded on his tongue, and rolled my eyes, grateful for the moment of distraction. “I see your terrible arrogance is still intact, even when you’re bleeding all over my furniture.”

“I’ll buy you a new couch,” he groaned.

As I continued to peel back his shirt, the full extent of his injury became clear. A bullet wound marred his left shoulder, still oozing blood. “This—this is serious. You need a hospital.”

He shook his head firmly. “No hospitals. Too risky. You can handle this, right?”

I hesitated. Removing a bullet wasn’t exactly part of my physical therapy training, but I’d seen our butler do it for my father and his men more times than I could count. I had hoped that I would never see a gunshot wound again, let alone attend to one myself. But looking at Cooper’s warm eyes, slightly dull from the pain, I couldn’t turn him away. “I’ll do my best. But if things start to go bad, I’m calling an ambulance, no arguments.”

Cooper nodded, relief evident on his face. “Fair enough.”

I gathered my first aid kit and some towels, trying to steady my nerves. As I cleaned the area around the wound, Cooper jerked in pain, his hand instinctively grasping my arm. The touch sent a jolt through me, and we looked at each other. For a moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of us.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. Shaking off the feeling, I focused on the task at hand. “The bullet’s still in there. I...I need to remove it.”

Cooper’s grip on my arm tightened. “Do it.”

I took a deep breath, sterilizing a pair of tweezers with some rubbing alcohol. “This is going to hurt. A lot.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve had worse,” Cooper said, his eyes never leaving mine. “I trust you.”

His last three words affected me more than I cared to admit. Pushing aside the flutter in my stomach, I began the delicate process of extracting the bullet. Cooper’s body tensed, a low groan escaping his lips. I worked as quickly and carefully as I could, hyper-aware of every sound he made, every twitch of his muscles. As the pain tripled, his powerful neck tensed, the muscles pulling tight like ropes beneath his skin. His jaw clenched, making the sides of his neck stand out sharply.

Finally, with a sickening pop, the bullet came free. I dropped it onto a towel, my hands shaking slightly. “It’s out, luckily it was all in one piece. But you’re going to need stitches. I’m going to have to improvise a bit.” I rummaged around the drawer in the end table, pulling out some embroidery thread from a cross-stitch project I’d abandoned long ago.

Cooper’s eyes were squeezed shut, his breathing ragged. “You’re full of surprises, Miss Prescott. Where’d you learn to play doctor?”

I began cleaning the wound, trying to ignore how intimate this felt. “My uncle. He was a doctor in a small Italian village. Taught me a few things.” The lie slid easily off my tongue. I didn’t want Cooper to knowwhat kind of background I really came from.

I started stitching the wound, Cooper watching me intently. As I worked, I felt the weight of his attention—steady, burning, inescapable. Every time I glanced up, those dark eyes were fixed on my face, watching my every move with an almost predatory focus. His massive shoulder tensed under my fingers with each stitch, but he never flinched, never looked away. Just kept watching me with that unreadable expression, his jaw clenched tight, breathing measured and controlled. It was unnerving, the weight of his gaze—like being studied by something powerful and dangerous that was choosing, for the time being, to remain still. The silence between us was charged, filled with unspoken questions and a tension that had nothing to do with his injury.

Bianca finally came out of hiding and brushed up against Cooper’s legs. He absentmindedly patted her on the head, and she gave a chirpy meow.

“So,” I said, needing to break the silence, “are you going to tell me exactly what happened?”

Cooper sighed, wincing as I tied off a stitch. “It’s complicated. And probably better if you don’t know the details.”

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