There are a few rags around, but I don't want to use them until I can properly wash them with some lye. That leaves me with only one option.

Shrugging my hoodie off, I carefully place it to the side while I take off my undershirt. A shiver of cold goes down my body, and I quickly put my hoodie back on.

I rip my undershirt into smaller pieces of material and fold them neatly on top of the bag. With that ready, I shuffle closer to Ze, reaching for his shirt. I undo it with shaky fingers. I'm aware he might not approve of this when he wakes up, but now it's imperative I clean all that blue blood off him.

Since his clothes are wholly black, I didn't realize just how much blood had soaked through, staining his skin.

I undo his shirt from the string that holds it together at his midriff, parting it to reveal his stained chest. There are large blots of blue mixed with red blood.

My lips flatten as I shake my head.

Releasing a deep breath, I slowly try to remove the shirt from his body. He's completely unmoving, and his size makes it a little hard to maneuver him around. Raising his arm, I pull one sleeve, then the other, and lay the shirt aside so I can wash it later.

Instinctively, I avert my gaze, my cheeks turning red. It would take a blind person not to notice how well-defined his chest and muscles are. Hell, the man probably has a twelve-pack, if that's even a thing. I don't think I've seen someone as ripped as him before—not even bodybuilders on TV. Curiosity gets the best of me as I allow myself a small glance—for purely aesthetic reasons, of course.

Despite the splotches of red and blue covering his chest, his bronzed complexion peeks through. His shoulders are broad, his arms even bigger than I imagined.

No wonder he can carry me in one hand alone.

His waist tapers down to narrow hips, his muscles even more defined as I spot a trail of black hair starting from his navel and leading into his black trousers.

I startle back, shaking my head at my foolishness. He's not some specimen to be ogled, and he would no doubt take offense to this as well. After all, it's not as if it's entirely surprising that he has such a beautiful physique. He said it himself—he's a warrior. He probably spends his entire time training to kill demons.

It's also not as though this is my first time seeing a half-naked muscular man. Why, my Nikki was quite muscular himself, with all those hours he spent in the gym. Maybe not demon-hunter level, but he was perfect for me.

As usual, when my thoughts revert to Nikki, I find the chasm in my heart widening, my loneliness creeping out once more.