The master bedroom was still and silent. The silver moonlight had faded, replaced by the deep blue of the pre-dawn hours.

Damon lay on the floorboards next to the bed. He had been staring at the stone wall for hours. His back ached from the lack of a mattress, and the single pillow now felt like rock under his head. Every time he closed his eyes, he heard Camilla’s mocking thoughts about his "broken sword." Every time he tried to sleep, he remembered the heat of her body pressed against his chest when they fell.

Finally, his exhaustion won. His eyes drifted shut. The sounds of the house—the occasional creak of wood, the distant hoot of an owl—faded away.

Damon woke up.

He felt a sudden change in the atmosphere. The room was still dark, but it was no longer quiet. He heard the soft rustle of silk. He felt a warmth that didn’t come from the cold floor.

He tried to sit up. He wanted to reach for the sword that usually leaned against the wall, but he found out he couldn’t move.

Damon’s heart hammered against his ribs. He was a general; being trapped was his greatest fear. He pulled his arms, but they were held fast. He looked up, his eyes straining in the dim light.

He was not on the cold floor anymore. He was lying in the center of his large, comfortable bed. The soft wool blankets were beneath him. His chest was bare and his hands were pulled high above his head. They were tied together with thick silk ribbons, lashed securely to the headboard of the bed.

"What..." Damon whispered, his voice raspy and thin.

Then, he saw her.

Camilla was at the foot of the bed. The moonlight caught her silhouette. She was moving slowly, crawling toward him on her hands and knees. She moved like a predator, silent and graceful. As she got closer, Damon’s breath hitched in his throat.

She was completely unclad. Her skin glowed like ivory in the darkness. Her red curly hair fell forward, covering her shoulders like a curtain of fire. Her eyes were fixed on his, burning with a hunger he had never seen before.

Damon was mesmerized by what he saw. His mind went completely blank. He had never seen a woman look so beautiful and so dangerous at the same time. For a heartbeat, he forgot he was tied up. He forgot he was angry. He just stared.

Then, his discipline returned. His face flushed a dark, burning red. He quickly averted his eyes, looking at the ceiling, trying to ignore the sight of her approaching body.

"Camilla," he grounded out, his voice shaking.

She didn’t stop. She crawled up until she was straddling his waist. He felt the soft, direct heat of her skin against his thighs. She leaned forward, her hair brushing against his chest. She reached out and gently caressed his cheeks with her cool, soft fingers.

"Look at me, Damon," Camilla whispered. Her voice was like a dark purr, smooth and sweet. "Do you like what you see? Or am I still just a ’nuisance’ to you?"

Damon didn’t answer. He kept his eyes locked on the wooden beams of the ceiling. He could feel his own heart beating so hard it shook his entire frame. The silk ribbons bit into his wrists as he pulled, but they were tied with expert knots.

"Look at me," she commanded again, her voice a bit firmer.

Damon finally found his voice. He forced it to be stern, though it cracked in the middle.

"What is the meaning of this, Camilla? Untie me this instant!"

Camilla didn’t obey. Instead, she let out a soft, wicked chuckle. She began to move her hand. She traced her fingers slowly from the hollow of his neck, down the center of his chest, all the way to his abdomen. Her touch left a trail of fire on his skin.

"Camilla, stop this nonsense at—"

He didn’t finish his sentence. Camilla leaned down and silenced him with a kiss.

It was not a soft kiss. It was a kiss filled with fervor and a desperate, wild energy. She tasted like sweet wine and heat. Damon’s eyes widened, and then, against his will, they drifted shut. He stopped pulling at the ribbons.

She pulled away just an inch, her breath hot against his lips. Then she moved lower. She kissed his jaw, then the sensitive skin of his neck. She moved to his chest, her tongue tracing the small scars on his pectoral muscles. She found his nipples and gave each of them the same attention.

Damon let out a low, deep groan. His head fell back against the pillows. "Camilla..."

She didn’t stop there. No. She went lower. She kissed his stomach, her hair tickling his skin. Damon’s breath became short and shallow. He was gasping for air as if he had just run a hundred miles. Every touch felt like an electric shock.

She reached his pelvic area. She moved with a confidence that terrified and excited him. She took him into her mouth, her movements slow and deliberate.

Damon’s back arched off the bed. His hands pulled at the silk ties, the headboard creaking under the pressure. The world outside the room ceased to exist. There was only the darkness, the heat of her mouth, and the overwhelming sensation.

"Cam... Camilla... Camilla," Damon gasped, his eyes squeezed shut. He was losing himself. He was melting under her touch. "Wait... wait..."

But Camilla didn’t stop. She ignored his weak protests. She kept going, her rhythm steady and relentless.

Damon felt a wave of white heat building behind his eyes. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. He let out a choked cry as his body finally gave in. He emptied himself into her mouth, his muscles twitching with exhaustion.

The room returned to a heavy, ringing silence.

Camilla slowly sat up. She pushed a stray red strand of hair that had plastered to her sweaty face. She looked down at him, her eyes dark and satisfied. She slowly licked her lips, her gaze never leaving his.

"Were you satisfied, Damon?" she asked softly.

Damon lay there, his chest heaving. His arms were still tied, his body feeling like lead. He looked at her, his mind a whirlwind of shame and desire.

Camilla began to shift her weight. She began to position herself to sit on him, her knees sliding up his sides. She leaned down, her lips inches from his ear.

"Or..." she whispered, her voice full of dark promise. "Do you want more?"

Damon’s eyes snapped open. The reality of the situation, the violation of his rules, and the sheer intensity of the moment crashed down on him.

"No!" He shouted. His voice was loud and raw. "No! Guards!!!! Help me! Guards!!!!"

He lunged forward, his hands reaching for her.

Damon woke up with a violent gasp.