Chapter 143: Chapter Hundred And Forty Two

Damon stopped in front of the door of his bedroom. He placed his hand on the brass handle. He turned it very slowly, making sure it did not click. He pushed the door open and stepped quietly inside.

He stood by the doorway, looking silently toward the floor near the large wardrobe.

Camilla was lying on the hard wooden floorboards. She had brought a thick blanket and a pillow for herself earlier. But a simple blanket could not hide the hardness of the solid wood.

Damon watched her carefully.

She was not sleeping peacefully anymore. The exhaustion of her secret, violent day was clearly taking a heavy toll on her body. She tossed and turned. She rolled from her left side to her right side. She let out a small, uncomfortable groan in her sleep. She pulled the thick wool blanket tighter around her shoulders, trying to find a soft spot on the hard floor, but she could not. She looked deeply uncomfortable.

Damon stood there, watching her struggle.

A sharp, painful pinch of guilt hit his heart. He was the one who had told her he didn’t want to sleep next to her. He was the one who had forced this stubborn standoff. And yet, she was the one who had just risked her own life to save his family’s territory. She had bled for him, fought for him, and now she was sleeping on the cold floor because of his foolish pride.

"This is wrong," Damon thought to himself. His internal voice was full of deep regret. "She is a champion. She deserves a soft bed. She deserves better than this."

Damon did not hesitate. He walked quietly across the room.

He stopped right next to her makeshift bed on the floor. He looked down at her sleeping face. Her red curly hair was spread messily over the white pillow.

Damon slowly bent his knees. He crouched down beside her.

He carefully reached out his large, strong arms. He slid his left arm gently under her upper back and shoulders. He slid his right arm gently under her knees. He made sure to support her weight perfectly.

With a smooth, powerful movement, Damon stood up. He carried her off the floor, lifting her easily into his chest.

She felt incredibly light in his arms. It amazed him that a woman this small and light had the physical power to completely destroy a giant mercenary.

But as Damon lifted her, the sudden movement disturbed her deep sleep.

Even though Camilla was completely unconscious, her highly trained body recognized the sudden shift in gravity. She felt hands wrapping around her. She felt herself being lifted into the air by an unknown force.

Her instincts flared to life instantly.

In her sleeping mind, she was not in a safe bedroom. She was in danger. She was being attacked.

Before Damon could even take a single step toward the bed, Camilla reacted with terrifying speed.

Her eyes remained tightly closed, but her hands shot upward like striking snakes.

She reached up and grabbed his neck.

Her small hands wrapped completely around Damon’s thick throat. Her fingers dug deeply into his skin. She squeezed. She squeezed tightly, using incredible, focused strength, actively trying to strangle the life out of her perceived attacker.

Damon completely froze.

His breath was instantly cut off. He felt the sharp, painful pressure of her thumbs pressing directly against his windpipe. Her grip was incredibly strong, much stronger than a normal woman’s grip should ever be. If he were a weaker man, he would have panicked and dropped her immediately.

He looked down at her face. Her eyes were still closed. Her brow was furrowed in a fierce, defensive scowl. She was clearly trapped in a defensive reflex.

Damon held her securely against his chest. He ignored the painful lack of air in his lungs. He needed to wake her up gently. He needed to let her know she was safe.

Damon spoke. Because she was choking him, his voice was very tight, rough, and slightly strained, but he forced his tone to be incredibly soft, gentle, and calming.

"Camilla," Damon whispered softly.

He leaned his head down slightly, bringing his face closer to hers so she could hear him clearly through her sleep.

"It’s Damon," he said quietly, keeping his voice steady and soothing. "Look at me."

Hearing her name, and hearing the deep, familiar rumble of his voice, Camilla’s fierce expression slowly began to change.

The defensive fog in her mind started to clear. Her body stopped fighting.

Slowly, her dark eyelashes fluttered. Her eyes fluttered open.

Her gaze was completely clouded in sleep. Her eyes were unfocused and blurry. She blinked slowly, trying to process where she was and who was holding her.

She looked up. Her blurry vision slowly focused on the handsome, sharp features of the face hovering just above hers. She saw his dark hair. She saw his dark brown eyes looking down at her with deep, gentle concern.

She realized she was not being attacked. She realized she was safe in her husband’s arms.

A very soft, sweet, completely genuine smile spread across Camilla’s face. It was the smile of a woman who was totally exhausted and happy to be held.

"It is you," Camilla whispered softly, her voice thick and raspy with sleep.

She instantly released her tight hold from his neck. She uncurled her fingers from his windpipe.

But she did not drop her hands.

Instead of pulling away, Camilla moved her arms higher. She wrapped them loosely and affectionately around his neck. She rested her head heavily against his broad, warm shoulder, snuggling into the curve of his neck like a tired child seeking comfort.

She let out a long sigh that tickled his collarbone.

"I am tired," Camilla murmured sleepily against his skin, her eyes falling shut again. "I want to sleep."

Damon took a deep breath, finally filling his lungs with fresh air. He felt the soft, warm weight of her body completely relaxed against his chest. He felt her arms wrapped securely around his neck.

His heart gave a massive, heavy thump against his ribs. The contrast between the deadly killer who had just tried to strangle him and the soft, sleepy woman currently snuggling into his shoulder was completely overwhelming.

Damon looked down at the top of her red hair. His own face softened entirely.

"Okay," Damon said. His voice was soft, warm, and full of deep care.

He held her securely and walked slowly across the room. He reached the large bed.

He carefully leaned forward. He laid her down gently onto the soft mattress, making sure her head rested perfectly on the pillows.

He expected her to let go of him. He expected her to roll over and go back to sleep.

He tried to pull his body back, intending to stand up and leave her to rest.

But Camilla refused to let go of his neck.

Even in her deep sleep, her arms remained locked tightly around him. As he tried to pull away, she simply tightened her grip.

"Camilla," Damon whispered softly, trying to gently pry her small hands away from his neck. "Let go. You are on the bed now."

Camilla groaned softly in protest. She did not want to lose the warm presence near her.

Instead of letting go, she pulled him.

She used her arms to pull his head back down toward hers.

Damon, not wanting to hurt her wrists, allowed himself to be pulled downward. He bent his waist, bringing his face very close to hers again, thinking she wanted to whisper something else to him.

But she did not speak.

Camilla turned her head slightly on the pillow. She leaned up.

She pressed her soft, warm lips directly against his cheek.