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.
