Transmigration: The Tyrant General Can Hear My Thoughts

Chapter 287: Chapter Two Hundred And Eighty Six

Damon did not let go of her. He did not step back.

He did exactly the opposite.

He held her even closer. He tightened his arms securely around her waist, pressing her flush against his beating heart. He rested his chin very gently on the very top of her wet, messy

hair. He wrapped her up so completely that the freezing wind could not touch a single inch of her skin.

He closed his eyes. He thought to himself, sending his own desperate, earnest, silent plea directly into the space between them, hoping his feelings would reach her panicked mind.

"Please stop pushing me away, Camilla," Damon thought silently.

His internal voice was raw and honest.

"Please just let me hold you," Damon pleaded in his thoughts, rubbing his hand slowly up and down her shivering back. "I know you are scared. But I will never hurt you. I will never betray your trust. I will protect you from the entire world. Just trust me this one time. Please let me in."

Camilla stood frozen in his warm arms.

She kept telling her limp hands to push his chest. She kept telling her freezing legs to step backward.

But her body was refusing to cooperate with her brain.

Her muscles felt weak and heavy. The freezing cold of the violent storm was overpowered by the warmth radiating from his broad chest. The feeling of his hand rubbing her back felt so comforting, and so undeniably right.

She realized, with a crushing sense of defeat, that she had lost the war.

She could not fight him anymore.

She could not fight him, because deep down in her soul, she did not actually want to fight him at all. She wanted to stay exactly where she was.

She knew, without a single, tiny shadow of a doubt, that there was no escaping this reality. She had unknowingly gone far deeper than she had ever planned or expected.

Camilla’s rigid, stiff posture collapsed.

She surrendered.

She stopped fighting her own feelings. She slowly lifted her hands from her sides.

She brought her hands up and reached around his waist. She grabbed the wet fabric of his white linen shirt. She gripped his shirt tightly in her small fingers, anchoring herself to his large body.

She relaxed all her weight. She stopped standing on her own. She leaned fully and heavily into his strong embrace, trusting him to hold her up.

And then, she broke down.

Camilla sobbed heavily into his soaked shirt.

The sound of her crying was no longer a quiet, hidden gasp. It was loud, broken, and raw. It echoed clearly over the sound of the crashing rain.

It was the tragic sound of a woman releasing a decades worth of suppressed fear, fake anger, and deep, crushing loneliness. She cried like a lost, terrified child who had finally been found in the dark.

She buried her face deep into his warm chest. She squeezed her eyes shut.

She muffled her voice against the wet fabric of his shirt. She spoke out loud, her words broken and shaking by her gasping sobs.

"I hate you, Damon," Camilla cried loudly into his chest.

Her voice was shaking violently with overwhelming emotion.

"I hate you so much," Camilla sobbed. Her small fingers gripped his wet shirt even tighter, refusing to let go of him.

She did not actually hate him. They both knew exactly what those broken words truly meant.

She hated how weak he made her feel. She hated that he had successfully destroyed her safe, cold isolation. She hated that she loved him so much that it terrified her.

"You turned me into this terrible mess," Camilla wept softly. Her hot tears soaked completely through his shirt, burning against his bare, warm skin. "I was perfectly fine being alone. And now look at me. I am a complete, crying mess because of you."

Damon stood firmly in the pouring rain, holding his crying wife tightly in his arms.

He listened to her tearful confession of "hate." He heard the deep, absolute, completely unguarded vulnerability in her broken, shaking voice. He felt her hot tears burning against his chest. He felt her small hands gripping his shirt desperately.

A wave of relief washed over him. It was followed instantly by a deep consuming love that flooded into his soul.

She had finally stopped fighting him. She had finally let him inside her thick walls. She had finally surrendered to his care.

Damon slowly lowered his head in the rain.

He pressed his face deeply into her wet, messy curls.

He kissed the very top of her head.

"I’m sorry," Damon whispered softly against her wet, cold hair.

His deep voice rumbled gently in his chest, meant only for her ears to hear.

He kept his warm lips pressed firmly against her head, rocking her slightly side to side to comfort her shaking body.

"Forgive me," Damon murmured quietly, holding her securely against the wind. "Forgive me for making you cry. I know you are scared. But I will take care of the mess. I promise you, Camilla. I will always take care of you."

He stood there in the dark courtyard. He let her cry against his chest for a few more minutes. He continued to rub her back slowly, letting her release all of her hidden fear and pain into his shirt.

Then, Damon looked at the dark sky. The storm was not stopping.

He decided she had been standing out in the freezing rain for far too long. She was still shivering slightly against his chest. Her bare feet were standing in a freezing puddle. She was recovering from a high fever caused by the sundew powder, and he refused to let her catch a terrible cold.

Damon did not ask for her permission to move. He did not give her a verbal warning to prepare herself.

Without saying a single word, Damon moved his arms.

He slid his left arm smoothly and firmly behind the back of her knees. He kept his right arm securely wrapped tightly around her back and her waist.

With an effortless motion, Damon lifted her off the wet ground.

He carried Camilla into his arms, picking her up in a firm bridal carry.

Camilla gasped softly in surprise, but she did not struggle. She naturally wrapped her arms around his neck. She rested her wet, tired head comfortably against his broad, warm shoulder. She surrendered to his strength.

"Let’s go inside," Damon spoke softly. His voice was calm, and caring.

He did not wait for her to agree. He turned his body away from the courtyard.

He began walking with fast, long strides toward the wide stone stairs of the mansion.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!