I nod and rush inside, then fetch the kit and come back. My feet falter when I find him unbuttoning his shirt, slowly revealing the hard ridges of his muscles before throwing it to the side. There’s no doubt that Kirill’s physique was sculpted by a god. He’s not too bulky, nor too lean, but he has a perfect eight-pack and wide shoulders that fit his height. Various tattoos swirl around his biceps and sides, giving him a darker edge. They’re different in shape and form, ranging from a skull to a gun, a knife, birds, and snakes. It’s like his body is a map for these haunting images. He places
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