Page 107 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

Theora grinned. “The oils?”

“The oils, the oranges…” He slid his hand between her thighs, guiding her legs open. “You.”

Theora twisted slightly so she could look at him. “You’re insatiable.”

“And?”

Theora giggled. “We have to get up and plan a wedding.”

His brows lowered with slight confusion. “Again?”

Theora kissed him between his furrowed brows. “Again.”

Epilogue

Argos

Theora panted, sweaty and laughing, as she fell back against the soft grass. “I need to be able to walk down the aisle.”

“I can carry you,” said Argos, and he kissed her throat.

“That’s not how weddings work.”

Argos settled on top of his wife, ignoring her complaints of his weight as he rested his head on her stomach. She didn’t mean a word of it, anyway, running her fingers through his hair as soon as he stilled. Sex outside was his favorite kind of sex, especially in the golden light of an approaching sunset.

“Okay,” he said. “Walk me through it.”

“You stand at one end of the aisle,” she said, drawing circles on his scalp with her fingers, as if seducing him to sleep. “Boada will escort me to you, and then we’ll just repeat everything Apollo says.”

“Repeat what he says,” he murmured, closing his eyes. “Got it.”

“Well, not everything. Just the vows. And then sign your name on the marriage certificate.”

“And then we have more sex.”

The soothing massage halted as she laughed. “And then we have more sex. But first we have to get up and get married.”

Argos grinned. “Who else can say he got to marry the woman he loves twice?”

He could feel her blushing. “You’re heavy,” she said, trying to lift him to no avail.

“Fine. Getting up.”

Argos sat up, kneeling in the grass as he took in his surroundings. Theora had chosen to have their wedding at the center of Aranea, where the silk grove grew. Hanging leaves of sunset gold, teal, and pink brushed against him as they rocked in the breeze, their gentle glow casting color onto his face and white tunic. He reached up, running the leaves through his hand. This place was…breathtaking. Unreal.

Proof that the Sovereign was a brilliant architect.

Argos would’ve married Theora the day they arrived back in Aranea, but business had to be tended to. Venita was in custody, and had given up enough information to help locate more traitors. With Pyre’s help, leads were being investigated, and Argos prayed to the Sovereign he could be there to hunt down every last one of them when the time came.

But his first priority was, as always, his wife.

“Our family will be waiting for us,” Theora said, wrapping her arms around him from behind and rubbing his abdomen in a way that told him exactly what she wanted to do while they waited.

“Oh, good,” he said, enjoying his wife’s girlish giggle as he quickly threw her over his shoulder. “Plenty of time for another orgasm.”

“Later, my love,” she said, patting his back as a signal to put her down. “I think I’ve gotten more than enough grass stains on my white dress.”

“We could stand beneath a green silk tree,” he suggested. “No one will notice the stains under the glow.”