Transmigration: The Tyrant General Can Hear My Thoughts

Chapter 309: Chapter Three Hundred And Eight

He turned around, holding the silver tray carefully. He decided to take the food back to the kitchens to keep it warm. They did not need to be interrupted right now.

"I will have to send a letter to the old duke," Murry thought to himself as he quietly walked away down the dark hallway. "He will be the most pleased with the recent developments."

Murry disappeared into the shadows, leaving the couple alone.

Inside the bedroom, the heavy silence continued.

Damon gently moved his hands. He reached down to his waist. Slowly but very carefully, he removed her intertwined fingers from his stomach. He did not want to push her away. He just needed to see her face.

He turned his body around to face her.

As soon as he was facing her, he reached out his hands. He took her small wrists and gently guided her arms, putting her fingers softly behind his waist, bringing her right back into the embrace.

Camilla did not resist. She stepped closer. She put her head onto his chest. She tightened her arms around his waist again, hugging him securely. She listened to the fast thumping of his heartbeat.

Camilla spoke. Her voice was soft and gentle.

"Thank you," she said into his chest.

She squeezed her arms a little tighter.

"I don’t know what else to say except for thank you," She continued, her voice shaking just a tiny bit with raw, honest feeling.

She slowly raised her head from his chest. She looked up. Her bright hazel eyes met his dark brown eyes. Her gaze was open, vulnerable, and sincere.

"Thank you, Damon," Camilla whispered softly. "You don’t know how much this means to me."

Damon’s brain short-circuited.

He stared down into her hazel eyes. The sound of his own name echoed loudly and violently inside his head.

Damon.

Hearing his name for the very first time coming from her lips hit him with the force of a mountain. She had only ever called him "General" or "My Lord." Even in her internal, sarcastic thoughts, she used formal titles or mocking nicknames. But just now, looking into his eyes with sincerity, she had called him by his actual, given name.

Damon moved his trembling hands. He reached up and gently framed her face with his large palms. His thumbs rested softly against her cheeks.

He looked at her, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"You..." Damon stammered. His voice cracked in half. It was rough and breathless. "You cal...called me by my name?"

Camilla looked at his shocked face. Her own eyes widened slightly in sudden panic.

Her mind instantly jumped to the wrong conclusion. She remembered the strict rules of historical romance novel. She was a woman of a lower noble standing compared to the great General.

Addressing a military commander by his first name without formal permission was considered highly disrespectful and improper in high society.

"Oh no," Camilla thought to herself, her heart giving a nervous jump. "He is offended. He thinks I am disrespecting his title and his authority."

She quickly opened her mouth, rushing to apologize and fix her mistake before he got angry.

"I’m sorry," Camilla babbled rapidly, her voice breathless. She looked down at his chest, trying to pull away slightly. "I didn’t know... I didn’t mean to disrespect you, My Lord..."

But Damon did not let her finish her apology. He stopped her midway.

He moved his hands slightly, tilting her face gently back up so she was forced to look into his eyes again.

"Say it again," Damon commanded.

His voice was not angry. It was not cold. It was a deep, low, intense whisper. It was filled with a desperate, burning hunger that he could no longer hide.

"Louder this time," Damon added, his eyes locked onto her lips.

Camilla blinked rapidly. She was confused by his strange behavior. He wasn’t angry at all; he looked like a man starving for water in a hot desert.

"Damon?" Camilla whispered softly, testing the word on her tongue again. It sounded like a tiny, questioning squeak in the quiet room.

Damon shook his head slowly from side to side. He did not want a question. He wanted her to claim him.

He moved his right hand and gently pulled back a lock of curly hair that was blocking her beautiful hazel eyes. He tucked the hair carefully behind her ear. His fingers lingered warmly against her skin, sending a shiver straight down her spine.

"Louder, Camilla," Damon said. His voice was soft, but it was filled with urgency. He needed to hear it. He needed to know it was real.

Camilla stared into his eyes. She only saw a man who desperately wanted to be loved.

She moved her hands. She slowly slid her small hands up from his waist. She moved her palms up the broad expanse of his back, feeling the hard, tense muscles shift under the fabric of his shirt. She caressed his back gently, offering him comfort.

She looked into his eyes, refusing to look away.

"Damon," Camilla said.

Her voice was no longer a quiet, questioning whisper. It was loud, clear, and confident.

The moment the clear sound of his name left her lips, Damon lost every single ounce of his self control.

The intense, burning desire that he had kept locked away in a dark box for so long exploded inside his chest. He could not wait another single second.

Damon moved with sudden speed.

He slid his large hands down from her face, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. With an effortless, smooth motion, Damon picked her off the floorboard.

Camilla gasped softly in surprise as her bare feet left the ground.

But she did not struggle. Her body reacted by

natural instinct.

As he lifted her into the air, Camilla immediately wrapped her legs securely around his narrow waist. Her white silk nightgown rode up her thighs, exposing her skin. She moved her arms from his back, throwing them around his neck, holding on tightly as he supported her entire weight with perfect ease.

Damon held her securely. His left hand on her back while his right hand on her buttocks, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. He did not say another word. He just carried her with fast strides across the floorboards. He led them toward the bed.

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