Page 14 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

“I can bend the rules if I require,” she said, dripping authority despite her pounding pulse. “I am your queen.”

“You think a political title means anything to me?”

For a moment, Theora was at a loss for words. What have you gotten me into, Boada? Were there no obedient, cooperative Warriors she could trade him in for? She took a breath, regaining a bit of her nerve. “Then, as your wife, I’m asking you to leave.”

“My wife,” he said angrily, stepping toward her so quickly she stumbled into the wall behind her, “would’ve never claimed me in the first place if she had no intention of following through.”

Theora panted against the wall, glaring up at him. “You are the one not following through. I claimed you. You’re mine.”

“And?” He leaned closer, his forearm slamming into the wall above her head. “That doesn’t make me your mindless servant.”

He was far too close, far too volatile. Not a shred of a care for boundaries or decency. A massive presence, hot blood warming his skin, muscles twitching as if from an urge to use them. She felt deeply offended, and yet she found herself trembling not from fear or shame but from an emotion she could hardly bring herself to fess up to.

Has it been so long, Theora, since a man has swallowed you up with his very presence?

Theora found herself thinking of that more than of her angry Warrior’s statement.

Has a man ever tasted and swallowed you—?

“Fine, yes,” she said quickly, if only to move on from that thought. “You’re right.”

Ugh, he was right. And she hated it. More than that, she hated that remnant fantasies of her new husband tasting her kept interrupting her annoyance. Still, she was lucky he was only angry about sleeping arrangements. It could have been far worse—he could’ve asked to go hunting.

She might not have been clear on all the dozens of Warrior rituals, but Boada had made sure to hammer this particular one home—she was not, under any circumstances, to accept anything he brought back from a hunt. Accepting his trophy meant they had to consummate the union, turning this business arrangement into a permanent Warrior marriage. Seeing as Warriors mated for life and she planned on ending the marriage after the peace talks, that wasn’t a ritual she was interested in.

And yet, as his gaze shifted over her face, Theora had an irrational urge to suggest a hunt to cool his anger. To kiss the lips that still hovered so close to hers…to use his body for more than just protection.

Are you insane?

“I’ll sleep in the bathroom,” Argos said, “if a door between us would give you more peace of mind.”

His suggestion was reasonable…but dominance wasn’t won by agreeing to what was reasonable. Where he slept wasn’t the point—it was that he refused to sleep where he was told. She had to get him to obey her, and after all the difficulty he’d caused her this evening, she knew he wasn’t going to concede without a fight.

And besides…she wasn’t quite ready to confront these strange feelings he elicited in her. Not yet.

“We will reconvene with Boada tomorrow evening, after all my scheduled meetings,” she said evenly. “In the meantime, go get some sleep.”

Argos stepped back from her, his expression not quite blank. A growl rolled in his chest that Theora was positive wouldn’t end well if left to continue.

But he didn’t argue, didn’t fight. Instead, he went to the window and opened it, slipping out into the night before she could chastise him for not using the door.

Chapter 4

Argos

This. Damned. Woman.

He strode through the dark wood with one goal—to stalk and kill something before that something became his apparent wife.

She was in the wrong. She must’ve known that. But it was clear, after knowing her for less than an hour, that she had a strong sense of pride…and a lack of thinking though her plans realistically.

She’d expected a loyal servant rather than a partner.

Well, of course she had…she was the queen. Every queen before her had been no different. Perhaps it was his fault for expecting more.

Although, to be fair…Theora had done more for Warriors than any queen had done in generations. That wasn’t saying much—she’d made sure they were provided for, increasing the budget significantly so that Boada could provide them with more resources, better food. It was the bare minimum, honestly, but it was still something to be grateful for, compared to what he’d been raised on. A good start for a queen who had been at war from the moment she ascended the throne.

And yet her attitude toward him told a different story. A story that made him doubt everything Boada had told him when he first accepted the mission.