Damon realized this was different. These tears were real. She wasn't acting. They were born from a place of deep, unconscious pain. The fearless lady of the house, the woman who had slaughtered a giant mercenary without blinking, was currently weeping quietly against his chest like a lost, frightened child.
"Is she having a nightmare?" Damon thought to himself. His internal voice was filled with sudden, intense concern.
He forgot that he was not supposed to let her see him. He forgot about his embarrassment. His protective instincts took over entirely. He hated seeing her in true pain.
He wanted to comfort her. He slowly raised his hand. He wanted to gently clean her tears away with his thumb. He wanted to smooth her red hair and wake her up gently from the bad dream.
His hand hovered just a single inch above her wet cheek.
Just as his fingers were about to touch her soft skin, Camilla's lips parted slightly.
