Page 45 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

Her back collided with the wall, knocking the wind from her lungs, his grip threatening to crack her jaw.

It was jarring how different his magic made this touch feel compared to the last one.

Argos’s nose scrunched in what would’ve been a snarl, if it hadn’t been more of a tick—as if his nose were itching and he couldn’t scratch it. But he didn’t move further, didn’t attack, though his hand trembled against her with pent-up action. “You’re going to have to do better than this,” he said.

Behind the anger, his voice was almost matter-of-fact. Because he was right. Growing up, she’d always thought of Warriors as crazed animals who needed to be kept in check, but it was their magic that was the real wild beast. It affected his mind, drove him to violence, and somehow he was just so…rational about it.

If Theora were in his shoes, being forced to rely on someone to keep her mind and body from rebelling, she would’ve felt such humiliation. But here was this bloodthirsty Warrior, asking for her to command him. Devoid of shame.

She took a moment to breathe, but she couldn’t wait for her pulse to ease before acting. Still, she must have been lightheaded, because it almost felt as if the air around her rocked when she said, “Cease.”

This time her command carried enough authority and charm that the tremble from his muscles fighting against his will stopped, his growl backing down to the default rolling without question.

“Yield,” she said.

He went down on one knee. Theora panted for a moment, adjusting her glasses and neckline, then folded her hands behind her back to hide their trembling.

Part of her felt compelled to comfort him. To ask if he was all right. He didn’t speak either, and the growl kept slowly rolling, but he kept her gaze, which at least meant he wasn’t being fully defiant. And there was something about that gaze that made damp heat bloom between her thighs, just as it had done when he spanked her…

He’d just been standing there. Just standing there, showing no signs of physical aggression, and his magic had consumed him all the same. Theora’s stomach twisted at the thought of what he might have done if she hadn’t…

She shuddered. There was no peace in thinking of specifics—suffice it to say, that could have gone in a horrible direction. The one bright side was that the charm still held. Still, there’d been no sign, no warning, and he was much faster than she was if he really wanted to do some damage.

No…There had been a warning. That ripple. Or vibration. Something in the air just before he’d gone off. She hadn’t noticed it, mostly because he never announced when he was using his magic. But then it was very subtle.

Argos didn’t wait for her to dismiss him, instead standing and leaning his back against the opposite window, arms folded across his chest. He glared at the floor, his cheeks slightly pink, but Theora couldn’t tell if it was from anger or embarrassment.

“Why didn’t the command work at first?” she asked.

“You hesitated,” he growled. “Magic requires decisiveness.”

“You speak as if it’s a living, breathing thing.”

“Well, it’s part of you, isn’t it?”

No, Theora thought. It absolutely isn’t.

She should have made Argos yield again, just to be sure it wasn’t his magic that was making him angry, but it was probably better for the moment that he was as far from her as possible. Perhaps across the room he couldn’t hear her pulse struggling to relax.

Finally, he looked at her. “You have to get a grip, Theora. I’ve almost killed you twice now.”

Twice? Theora shuddered to think that there was a time she hadn’t been aware of.

“Yes,” she said with a grimace of a smile, if only to conceal that the fact of it made her insides quake. “You should work on that.”

Argos’s chest began to vibrate. “You can’t just hope I’ll be able to stop my magic every time you fail to handle yours.”

“Well, excuse me for having never used magic,” she snapped back.

Argos paused, his brows lowering slightly, as if the woman standing before him had just gone mad.

“Forget it,” Theora said quickly, before he could ask the question—the question she knew was at the tip of his tongue, the one everyone had asked while she was growing up and constantly failing her charm exams.

His expression asked it for him. What do you mean you’ve never used magic?

Because every woman in Aranea had magic…everyone but their queen.

She rubbed her forehead, closing her eyes briefly. “I’m going to get some rest before we arrive. I suggest you do the same.”