The door of the master bedroom closed with a solid, final click.
The instant the brass latch locked into place, the perfect illusion completely shattered.
Camilla and Damon stood in the middle of the large bedroom, glaring at each other. The quiet air in the room was suddenly thick with highly irritated tension.
They continued their bickering immediately.
Camilla aggressively rubbed her right hand. Her knuckles were slightly red.
"You have an absolutely terrible grip," Camilla complained out loud, her voice full of sharp sarcasm. She glared at his large hands. "You squeezed my fingers so hard under the table I thought my bones were going to turn into fine powder. Are you trying to hold a sword or a human hand, General?"
Damon did not back down. He crossed his strong arms tightly over his broad chest. He shifted his weight, wincing just a tiny bit as he moved his left foot.
