Daxton Lancaster sat sideways in front of the bed, squeezing some ointment from the metal tube onto his fingertip, and then gently applied it to Violet Zimmerman's injury.
The early spring sun streamed in through the glass window, casting light on the floor and the bench at the foot of the bed. The man sitting with his back to the sunlight had gentle and soft facial features, looking like a different person from the demon of last night.
His slender fingers lightly touched the injured area of Violet Zimmerman, massaging gently while asking with concern, "Does it hurt? If it does, just tell me, I'll be gentler."
Violet lay on the bed, her face turned in the opposite direction of Daxton Lancaster, with her pajamas completely lifted up, and below it was the same, leaving only a small pair of pants.
The scars on her back were not obvious, as they were blocked by a coat that shielded her from the belt that had hit her.
