Free Web NovelChapter 217: Chapter Two Hundred And Sixteen
Camilla stood in front of him. The bedroom was very quiet. The only sound was the soft crackle of the dying fire in the corner.
She raised her hands and reached toward his chest. Damon sat still on the chair, keeping his back straight. He watched her every single move.
She carefully placed her fingers on the messy, bloody white bandage that he had clumsily tried to untie. She began to untie the tight, messy knot. Her fingers brushed lightly against his warm, bare skin.
Damon felt a sudden rush of heat in his chest from her touch. His dark brown eyes were fixed on her face. He looked at her tired, pale skin and the dark shadows under her eyes.
"You are home late," Damon said.
His deep voice was very soft. He did not sound angry or demanding. He spoke in a very gentle, worried tone. He wanted to know where she had been all day, and he wanted to show her that he cared.
Camilla did not stop her work. Her fingers continued to loosen the white cotton strips. She nodded her head slowly.
"I had a business in the lower city," Camilla replied simply, keeping her voice calm and practical. "And we finalized everything late."
Damon processed her words.
"She’s sincerely explaining herself to me," Damon thought to himself.
His internal voice was filled with a very warm, deep sense of satisfaction. In the past, she would have just ignored him or given him a sarcastic reply. But today, she was actually telling him where she was and what she was doing. She was communicating like a real wife.
It felt like a huge victory in his mind.
Camilla finally managed to untie the tight knot. She gently pulled the white cotton strips away from his shoulder.
As the bandage came off, the fresh, raw injury was exposed to the cool air of the bedroom.
The cut was not very deep, but it was long and ugly. Because Damon had roughly pulled his coat and linen shirt off earlier, the thin scab had torn open. Bright red blood was slowly leaking from the scratch, smearing across his slightly tanned muscular skin.
Camilla stopped moving. She stared down at the bleeding cut on his shoulder.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. Her mind began to analyze the wound instantly.
"How did he let himself get injured?" Camilla thought to herself. Her internal voice was filled with genuine confusion.
Damon sat still, he listened to her mind working.
"He is a very powerful military general," Camilla’s thoughts continued, analyzing the angle of the injury. "He has fought wars. He is incredibly fast and strong. So how did he get a fresh sword cut on his shoulder? Where did this happen?"
She stared at the blood. She debated what to do next.
"Should I ask him?" Camilla thought, hesitating slightly. "He might just look at me and tell me to mind my own business. He might be in a foul mood. I don’t want to get involved."
Damon heard her hesitation. His heart began to beat very fast against his ribs. He gripped the wooden armrests of his chair tightly.
"Please, Camilla," Damon spoke desperately inside his own mind, hoping she would do it. "Please, ask me. Ask me what happened. Show me that you care about my body. Please."
Camilla did not ask immediately.
She picked up the messy, bloodied white bandage from his shoulder. She turned her body away from him. She walked over to the small wooden table where the maids had dropped the medical supplies. She dropped the dirty bandage onto the table.
She poured some warm water from a silver pitcher into a small ceramic bowl. She dipped her hands into the warm water to wash them clean. Then, she picked up the soft white towel. She dipped the towel into the water and wrung it out, twisting the fabric until the extra water dripped back into the bowl.
Damon watched her back. He watched her wring out the towel.
He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com
"She didn’t ask me," Damon thought, feeling a deep wave of disappointment. "She just turned away. She doesn’t want to get involved."
He decided he could not wait any longer. He wanted her to know. He opened his mouth, fully intending to speak out loud and tell her exactly what happened, even if she did not ask.
But before Damon could form the very first word, Camilla turned back around.
She walked back to him, holding the damp, warm towel in her hands. She stopped right in front of his bare chest.
She looked into his dark brown eyes.
"What happened?" Camilla asked. Her voice was very low, quiet, and completely serious. "How did you get hurt?"
Damon froze in his wooden chair.
His face instantly lit up. A bright, invisible light seemed to turn on inside his dark eyes. The heavy disappointment in his chest vanished, replaced instantly by a soaring wave of pure joy.
His mind was literally throwing a big party.
"She asked," Damon thought to himself, his internal voice practically shouting with happiness. "She actually asked me!"
He was incredibly delighted to answer her. He did not want to sound too eager, so he tried to keep his deep voice sounding calm and tough.
"I got hurt doing training," Damon said smoothly, looking up at her face. He did not tell her he was distracted by his jealousy over Winston. He kept it simple.
Camilla nodded her head slowly. She accepted his answer.
She raised the warm, damp towel. She began cleaning the injury. She gently wiped the bright red blood away from his skin, moving her hand carefully around the edges of the cut. The warm water washed away the dried blood, leaving the raw scratch visible.
She turned back to the small table and picked up the glass bottle of strong, clear medical alcohol. She also picked up a small, clean piece of white cotton.
She walked back to him. She tipped the glass bottle, pouring a little bit of the strong alcohol directly onto the cotton. The sharp smell of the clear liquid quickly filled the air between them.
Camilla leaned forward. She pressed the wet cotton firmly against the open cut on his shoulder.
The sudden, sharp, fiery sting hit Damon’s skin instantly.
"Sss," Damon hissed out loud, his jaw clenching tightly. He pulled his shoulder back just a tiny fraction of an inch to escape the burning pain.
Camilla stopped immediately.
She pulled her hand back, lifting the wet cotton away from his skin. She looked down into his dark brown eyes. Her face softened.
"Does it hurt?" Camilla asked softly.
Damon looked at her. He remembered Syrus’s specific advice from the tavern. Show your vulnerability. Tell her it hurts. Let her take care of you.
Normally, Damon would never admit to feeling pain. He would sit through a stitch session with only a gag in his mouth to muffle his groans. But tonight, he wanted to follow the rules of the heart.
Damon nodded his head slowly. frёewebηovel.cѳm
"Yes," Damon admitted silently.
Camilla looked at his serious face. She let out a very soft, quiet sigh.
"I will be more gentle," Camilla replied smoothly. She brought the cotton back to his skin. "But be more careful next time. You are a General. You shouldn’t get cut in basic training."
She proceeded to disinfect the entire injury. She moved her hand much slower this time, dabbing the alcohol very lightly so it would not burn him as badly.
When the cut was completely clean, she dropped the used cotton onto the table. She picked up the small jar of healing ointment.
She dipped her fingers into the thick, sticky green balm. She returned to him and began applying the medicine directly over the red scratch.
As she applied the ointment, she stood very close to him. She had to lean her upper body forward to reach his shoulder.
Damon stared up at her.
He was mesmerized. He looked at her beautiful red curls framing her face. He looked at her hazel eyes, completely focused and concentrated on her medical task.
Then, his eyes dropped lower. He looked at her soft, pink lips. Because she was concentrating so hard on spreading the sticky balm, her lips were slightly parted. She was breathing softly through her mouth.
The dim, yellow light of the oil lamp made her skin glow. She looked incredibly beautiful, soft, and entirely perfect. Damon felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He could not look away.
