Damon slowly looked down at the divorce papers. He opened the pages to be sure she had actually signed it. He flipped to the very last page.
There, right on the blank line, he saw her name at the end of the page. The ink was still slightly wet and shiny. The letters were bold and clear.
He looked back up at her. His mind was racing with questions.
"Why did she sign so easily?" Damon asked himself in his mind. He did not say it out loud. "The head maid told me she was going crazy. The head maid told me she was screaming and refusing to accept the divorce. But she just signed it in less than two minutes without a single fight. Why is she so willing to leave? What is she planning?"
Camilla stood a few distance away from his wheelchair. She raised the back of her hand and gently wiped the corners of her eyes, as if she was cleaning away real tears.
While she wiped her fake tears, she allowed her eyes to wander. She looked closely at Damon. She did not look at him like a sad wife. She looked at him like a hungry customer looking at a delicious meal through a glass window.
"My goodness," Camilla continued her thoughts inside her head. Her internal voice was completely relaxed and full of lust.
"Just look at those broad shoulders," she thought, her eyes tracing the shape of his dark red tunic. "They are so wide. And those huge pecs. They look as hard as rocks. The open drawstring is really doing him a favor. He has the tough, scarred face of a war hero and the perfectly sculpted body of a god."
Damon's breath hitched in his throat. He felt a sudden heat rise in his cheeks. He, the great and terrifying Tyrant General, who had killed hundreds of men on the battlefield, was suddenly blushing. He could hear her judging his body parts one by one.
"Too bad," Camilla thought, sighing deeply in her mind. Her internal voice sounded genuinely disappointed. "After the divorce is finalized, I will take my leave. I will have absolutely nothing to do with this man ever again. What a waste of a perfectly good-looking male specimen."
Damon's jaw dropped open slightly. 'Male specimen?' he thought. Did she just call him a specimen?
He quickly looked to his right. He looked at Kade. He needed to be absolutely sure he was not losing his mind. Kade was standing perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the wall ahead, completely unaware of the highly inappropriate thoughts flying around the room. Kade did not hear a single thing.
Damon swallowed hard. He looked back at Camilla.
Camilla slowly lowered her hand from her eyes. She was done pretending to cry. She looked at Damon's shocked, flushed face. She thought his red cheeks were quite cute.
She licked her lips slowly. Her pink tongue quickly darted out to wet her bottom lip.
"But," Camilla thought, a mischievous and dangerous idea forming in her mind.
She took a slow step forward. Her light blue dress swished softly against the stone floor.
The guards in the room instantly tensed up. When a person steps too close to the General, it is usually a threat. Kade quickly moved his hand down to rest heavily on the metal handle of his sword. He watched Camilla with sharp, careful eyes. He was ready to pull his weapon if she tried to hurt the General.
But Camilla did not pull out a knife. She did not raise her hand to strike.
She walked slowly, placing one foot carefully in front of the other. She walked right past Kade. She stopped directly in front of Damon's wooden wheelchair. She was standing so close to him that the fabric of her dress brushed against his injured leg wrapped in white bandages.
Damon tilted his head up to look at her. His eyes were wide and guarded. He did not know what she was going to do.
Camilla slowly bent at the waist. She leaned her upper body forward, bringing her face down closer to his.
She reached out both of her hands. She placed her left hand on the left wooden armrest of his wheelchair. She placed her right hand on the right wooden armrest.
She locked her elbows. She had completely trapped him. He could not move forward, and he could not stand up because of his broken leg. He was trapped between her arms.
The room grew so quiet that Damon could hear his own heart pounding heavily in his chest. He could smell her scent. She smelled like sweet soap and a faint hint of roasted chicken from her lunch.
Camilla looked directly into his eyes. Her face was only a few inches away from his face. She could see the tiny gold flecks hidden in his dark brown eyes. She could see a small, pale scar near his jawline.
"But can't I taste him before I leave?" Camilla thought. Her internal voice was dark, smooth, and heavily playful.
Damon's eyes widened to the size of small saucers. His entire body went stiff. He stopped breathing entirely.
"I mean," Camilla continued thinking, her eyes slowly dropping down to look at his lips, and then moving lower to look at his exposed chest again. "He does not look like he will be bad in bed, right? Look at those strong hands. I bet he knows exactly how to use them. It would be a crime to leave this house without at least trying him out once. Just a small taste for the road."
Damon was completely paralyzed. His hands, still holding the divorce papers, began to shake visibly. A dark red flush crept all the way up his neck and covered his entire face. His ears felt like they were on fire.
He was a man who commanded thousands of soldiers. He yelled orders over the deafening sounds of cannons and swords. He was feared across the entire continent. People trembled when they heard the name of the Tyrant General.
But right now, trapped in his wheelchair by a small woman in a simple blue dress, he was utterly helpless.
"This is..." Damon stammered in his mind, his thoughts completely chaotic. "This is Camilla's thoughts. These are the thoughts of my wife! How could she think of something this scandalous in broad daylight? Is this really what she thinks of me? She wants to... she wants to taste me?!"