Page 101 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

“I know,” she said. “And it’s not.”

When he didn’t answer, she took a breath. “I’ve never done this before. I’ve never…been in a real relationship. The war had made me hesitant to find something real, and then I met you and—” She took another moment. Argos didn’t interrupt. “I don’t want us to part ways, Argos. I don’t want to be without you.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I heard you sent Apollo away.”

“He wanted to go. When we were still in Lasius, he asked me for the position.”

“I thought he was the ideal consort.”

“I don’t want the ideal consort. I want you.”

Argos hesitated, as if he’d never expected her words. “This isn’t just about sex?” he asked, and the vulnerability in the question made tears burn at the backs of her eyes.

“Of course not,” she blurted. “I have too much respect for you to do you that disservice, Argos.”

His gaze shifted to the trophy, his brows lowered in dark thought. It was a sad sort of thoughtfulness that made Theora want to kiss him and kill it, a quiet that lasted so long, fear started to creep around her stomach. She suddenly realized that this might not end the way she wanted it to. He was going to reject her trophy. He was going to reject her.

“Okay,” he said. But his look was still skeptical when he added, “Yield.”

Theora shivered at the command, relief making her want to cry while her prime instinct to remain dominant rose up to challenge him. Slowly, she lowered herself to one knee, holding up the box to him. She waited for a loving respect salute, for him to say everything was fine between them.

Instead, he stood. “Stay.” And he walked away and shut himself in the bathroom.

At the back of Theora’s mind there was shame and humiliation, but mostly anxiety. Maybe this was too little too late.

She heard the shower come on and, after a few seconds, lowered herself to sit on the floor. On first meeting him, she would probably have gotten angry at this, but by now she knew he was challenging her by making her wait. Well, then she would wait. She couldn’t afford not to.

When the water shut off, she resumed her yield position. But it was hard to keep steady when he emerged. Naked, as usual. But this time it made her stomach swim with the best kind of nerves. Sovereign. Get ahold of yourself, Theora.

She watched him get dressed. Layer after layer. Theora couldn’t blame him, and giving her a taste of her own medicine was his way. But it still hurt.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Stay,” he said again, and left the room, shutting the bedroom door behind him.

“What?” Theora huffed, her resolve to fix the situation dissolving into frustration as she sat down again. Her instinct told her to go after him, but he had commanded her to stay.

She lay back on the carpet, wiping away her tears quickly before they drifted down the sides of her face. It was unbearable, him being distant with her like this. She wanted his trust more than anything. And more than trust, she wanted him to accept her. To…love her.

It felt like an irrational hour before the door finally opened again. Theora felt pathetic—and angry at feeling pathetic—but pushed herself up and resumed her yield position. Her hands trembled as she held the box up, but when Argos sat on the bed in front of her she managed to keep her head up, to keep eye contact. She wasn’t ready to lose all her dignity yet.

Although her bladder was threatening to betray her. “Um, I have to go to the bathroom.”

Argos grinned briefly and nodded, and it made Theora’s stomach hurt with nerves and embarrassment. Sovereign, that smile…Why does he have to be such a pain in the ass?

“Dismissed,” he said. Still an order. He meant for her to come back when her mission was complete.

She could’ve stolen the dominant position right then. She could’ve challenged him. And she thought about it. Battled with it. She was used to satisfying her ego rather than her heart.

So instead, she did her business, then came back and stood before him when she was done.

“Yield,” he said, but she had started before he’d even finished the word.

This time, he offered her their salute. Theora released a trembling breath before returning it. Only then did he accept the box from her.

He opened the box and paused. Theora’s heart tripped over its own pumping blood at the sight of her husband’s smile. A genuine smile that warmed his expression like a single flame in a cold room, such a change from the everyday that she was almost afraid it would never happen again. He took the watch out of the box, a simple amber leather band to match his eyes, with a midnight face.

“This was supposed to be for Apollo,” he said with a raise of his brow. Despite his words, he indulged in swiping his thumb across the watch face, his body heat revealing the hands of the watch, which disappeared again after a few seconds as the face cooled.