Page 53 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

“Cease, Argos.”

Her words were harsh, but Argos could tell he’d been a bit too truthful with her. Her fear from the meeting had died down a bit during the tram ride, and he’d only succeeded in raising it again. From now on, he’d keep the suspicion of danger to himself if he could.

Beyond the quaint square, the hall narrowed, with the door to each suite on either side. Argos opened the door that listed their names, allowing Theora in before him.

There was a living room with a large couch in the middle, a small bar with wine and glasses behind it, a large painting on the back wall. What he thought was an armoire was nothing but a stocked wine fridge. What looked like a closet actually revealed a closet-sized safe.

Dociles certainly had strange priorities.

He could smell that there had been multiple people here recently, and when he opened the door to find an adjoining bedroom, the scent trail increased. Porters had brought their luggage into the room, which seemed normal enough for the circumstances…but Argos wasn’t used to people other than Boada handling his things. And who knew if they had tampered with their luggage or anything in the room.

Worse yet, he smelled a hidden tunnel in the room. He followed the scent until he reached a closet in the bedroom, where what looked like an attic door was clearly the path to elsewhere. He’d have to investigate it while Theora was asleep.

Hearing Apollo’s voice, cheerfully laughing, Argos rolled his eyes.

One problem at a time.

Argos glanced at Venita, who was sitting on their couch, and went up to his wife, who stood in the doorway talking to Apollo. They were talking…fine. But Apollo was standing entirely too close, and Theora wasn’t doing a thing about it.

Argos wrapped an arm around Theora’s shoulders from behind and pulled her close to him, creating more space between her and the nuisance. Perhaps he should have announced himself, as her pulse elevated to an alarming rate. She grabbed his arm, and for a moment he thought she might pry him off—this wasn’t a form of physical contact they’d discussed. She didn’t…but he was certain he was going to get an earful about it as soon as they were alone.

“Your Grace.” Apollo bowed. Ending the interaction, as Argos had planned. “If you should need anything, please don’t hesitate to call and I’ll send someone immediately.”

Argos didn’t like what he’d smelled in that other room, and he needed time to look it over more closely. Theora was tired. And, anyway, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could be in Apollo’s presence without tearing out his throat, no matter how nice he was.

“My wife requires oranges,” said Argos, before Theora could reply.

Apollo raised a brow. “Oranges?”

“You said you’ll send someone with whatever she needs.”

“I…did say that.”

Argos forced himself not to smirk. Perhaps his royal highness didn’t expect to actually have to work. “Oranges. And lollipops.”

Theora quickly looked up at him, her eyes begging him to behave. “You don’t have to do that, Apollo.”

“No, it’s all right,” said Apollo, smiling. “I haven’t been on a candy errand since we were children.”

Argos rested his chin on the top of Theora’s head and hugged her even closer, feeling the warmth of her blush all the way up to her scalp. “Make sure they taste like my wife.”

Apollo’s look was a satisfying combination of alarmed, mortified, and confused.

“Argos,” Theora chastised quickly, giving Apollo an apologetic look. “He’s joking. He means butterscotch.”

“I meant what I said,” said Argos, shifting Theora farther inside and grabbing the door. “You may go,” he said, and he shut Apollo out, locking the door behind him.

Theora shoved away from him instantly, scowling up at him. “Well. You’ve sufficiently offended my best friend on your first day. Bravo.”

“Oh, no,” Argos said without enthusiasm. “I was leaning toward tearing out his throat, maybe I’ll do that instead next time and spare him the humiliation.”

She grabbed his chin, pulling his face down to hers. “Don’t even joke like that,” she said.

He met her with a quiet growl, his hand on her lower back gripping to match that intensity…Sovereign. He heard and felt her breath go shallow, watched her close her eyes briefly to gather her wits.

Those instinctive actions matched with the scent he loved so much, when she was fighting so hard not to be aroused and her body couldn’t lie anymore…It gave him a throbbing desire to kiss her soft lips. Taste her mouth with his tongue. Make her forget that silly gardener ever existed.

There was a sound like someone clearing their throat, and when they turned they found Venita sitting on the couch, her face sour and displeased.