Camilla's POV
When our lips finally parted, I was breathless, my skin flushed the color of beetroot. He brushed my hair back and pressed a kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering there—soft, heavy with emotion. A tremor rushed through me in feverish waves, bringing a sting to my eyes.
“It’s nothing,” I whispered when I finally found my voice. “All my life, I’ve seen myself as nothing but a weapon of destruction. But today…” My voice broke slightly. “It felt really good to help. It made me see things differently.”
“How different?” he asked, pulling back just enough to see my face.
“That maybe this could be a gift,” I murmured. “Like you said.”
He drew me closer again, squeezing me tightly but not enough to hurt me. Soaked in his warmth, my core pulsed, craving more of his touch. But I
