Page 102 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

Theora swallowed. Why was confessing her true feelings so…difficult? “It was never for Apollo.”

Argos looked at her, and Theora felt captured in his gaze. Breathless. There was a deep, vulnerable look in his eyes, like part of him couldn’t risk believing her and yet still hoped. It made her want to cry.

It made her want to kiss him.

Silently, he patted the bed beside him, and Theora got to her feet quickly, her heart pounding. They were married. Not in the legalized Docile way, but just as real. In a way, this was more romantic, more personal, because it didn’t require a signature on documents to make it official.

It had taken swallowing every ounce of her pride to get here, and she’d never felt so simultaneously foolish and happy in her entire life.

“You can’t take this back,” Argos murmured.

Theora’s heart raced. “Good,” she breathed. “I don’t want to.”

A shiver went up her spine at her husband’s touch. The backs of his fingers trailed up her arm. Slowly…barely a feather’s touch. She waited for what might happen next, silently begging him to grip her…possess her. His hand drifted up, tracing her shoulder, her neck, her jaw, every nerve lighting up beneath his fingers. This touch didn’t feel sexual or possessive, but it balanced on the edge of something Theora had never felt before. It was unbearable.

Unbearably foreign. Unbearably unreal. Unbearably…lovely.

This didn’t feel like a ritual at all.

“Argos,” she whispered, his name the most beautiful word she’d ever felt on her tongue, “forgive me for everything I put you through these past weeks.”

She shivered despite the warmth of his hand as he pushed her hair behind her ear, pressed his lips to her temple.

“No,” he whispered back, and moved to the other side of the bed, lying on his stomach.

Theora sat stunned. Now, instead of her husband’s body, humiliation heated her face. She looked over her shoulder to see him adjusting his pillow. “I lay my ego and dignity at your feet, and you have the nerve to say no?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“What more do you want?”

He yawned, as if he were already bored of being married.

This was the Argos she was used to, and she had no idea why she still let him rile her up this way—he was as sexy as he was infuriating. She stood to glare at him, her fists trembling, fighting to keep back frustrated tears. “I did everything I was supposed to. You can’t push me away.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes closed like he’d already settled into taking a nap.

“Y-you’re being extremely dishonorable right now.” Theora honestly couldn’t tell if she was turned on or angry. Maybe both. Maybe it had always been both. And, if that was the case, she would dig a hole and bury herself six feet under before allowing this massive brat to get the better of her, even if he was just doing it for sport.

“You accepted my trophy, which means we share the bed.” She crawled across the bed, then pulled on the covers he was lying on in an attempt to move him, too. He didn’t budge. “And this is my side.”

Argos finally opened his eyes to give her a questioning stare.

“I like sleeping on this side,” she clarified.

“Why?”

“It’s close to the bathroom.” She made another attempt to push him to the other side, but her efforts were gaining impossibly small results. “It’s my side. Don’t question me.”

He gave an amused raise of his brow, then sat up. “Let’s compromise.”

She sighed. Finally. “What do you have in mind?”

“It’s an easy solution. Look.” Argos ran his hand from one end of the bed to the other. “This is for me.”

“Okay.” Theora faltered, her brows lowered slightly. “That’s the entire bed—”

She shrieked as her husband scooped her up in his arms and dropped her onto the carpet.