Page 7 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

Regain control, Theora. You’re almost there.

Still, it wasn’t so much his aggression as his proximity that threw her off—she wasn’t used to standing close to strangers like this. And he was so close. Unbothered by the intimacy of it. He was…touching her. He wasn’t supposed to touch her, was he? His strong hand heated her on one side, his fingers pressing against the tender skin of her throat, the massive presence of his body making her so aware of her uneven breaths that if she hadn’t been anticipating imminent death, she might have mistaken the gesture for foreplay.

“I don’t care what Boada says,” he said, his voice deep and threatening. “I don’t belong to you.”

Theora swallowed, maintaining her quiet until she was sure her voice wouldn’t tremble when she said, “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of being claimed by a Docile for two measly weeks?”

They stared at each other for a long moment. The Warrior’s face remained blank, and the growl continued, but if his eyes could’ve dictated his face’s expression, Theora had a feeling he’d be gaping with shock. Theora’s question was the checkmate to end the game. By challenging her in return, he’d be admitting to fear. By yielding to her, he’d be admitting defeat. The only thing for him to decide now was which of the two options was least shameful.

Theora forced the tension from her body as the Warrior’s eyes burned like molten gold. Tension meant fear. A wavering gaze meant discomfort. Both of which Warriors could sense.

But he could also smell the sweat dripping down her neck. Hear her heart pounding heavily and the breath leaving her nose in quick huffs. Those she couldn’t hide.

Even so, when she told him to cease, he stopped growling. When she told him to yield, he did so. And he kept her gaze long enough for her to rest the rope around his neck, and even after.

She tightened the rope loop, turning it into a thick leash that kept the Warrior from bowing or turning his neck, kept his eyes on her. He was hers to command now.

Theora took a deep breath and touched her fingertips against her bottom lip. “Theora,” she said, and then touched his bottom lip the same way, forcing herself not to cringe as her fingers slid a little from the slick blood.

He stared at her, that same distrustful look he’d had since the beginning mixed up with the bit of awe he’d just recently adopted, both accentuated by that ever-rolling growl. Then he touched his own lip briefly, and Theora felt a small tremor up her spine as his bloodied fingers gently brushed her lip in return. “Argos,” his deep voice rumbled, almost reluctantly. But when she held his rope and led him toward the door, there was no reluctance in his movements.

Whether he liked it or not, he was hers.

Chapter 2

Argos

This damned woman.

If she had been a Warrior, if this had been a genuine attempt to claim him, if Boada hadn’t ordered him to be gentle, their encounter would have ended with this little arrogant queen writhing in pain on the floor.

Okay, well, he wouldn’t have truly hurt her—he was a Warrior, not a monster. Dislocated a shoulder, maybe. Something that could be easily mended while also causing incurable humiliation.

As it stood, this Docile had never stood so close to a Warrior, and it showed.

No one was going to believe he’d actually been claimed. No Warrior would ever be stupid enough to claim someone they couldn’t confidently dominate, and it was clear that this queen’s bark was worse than her bite. It was going to be far too obvious this was all a ruse, which was nothing if not insulting. Marriage was a sacred bond, not some political gimmick.

Her words had pissed him off a bit, but there was nothing she could say or do to truly intimidate him into siding with her or give her the upper hand. He’d only yielded because Boada had told him to, because it honored the Sovereign to obey his handler.

Still, what a show he’d just put on—viewing party of one. He’d meant to show his distaste for her plan, to make her regret ever including him, and she’d managed to maintain her courage better than he’d anticipated. For a moment when he touched her, he thought he might’ve even smelled a tinge of excitement in her sweat…though, if he had, it was short-lived. That was his fault for being petty—he knew Dociles weren’t used to being touched, even if he’d forced himself to be as gentle as possible.

Theora looked a bit disheveled and smelled of the sharp sweat that only stress could produce, but she still managed to look annoyingly haughty. As if she had just conquered him by her own strength of will. As if he hadn’t just allowed her to win.

It would’ve been adorable if Argos had been in the mood to admit it.

“Well, that’s done,” Theora said as she looked him over. Her gaze wasn’t particularly friendly or interested—putting on a show, same as him. She paused, then gestured vaguely to his person. “I don’t want all of this messing up my bathroom, so let’s hose you off first, shall we?”

He felt himself growling and didn’t bother to check himself, his new wife’s worried pulse the only entertaining detail of this situation. He’d given his word to Boada that he would be patient, but this woman was already testing him. She deserved to be given a hard time, even if it wouldn’t help the situation.

Perhaps her visits to the barracks over the past year had been nothing but a fun diversion to her, because she’d clearly learned nothing of Warrior rituals. She spoke several languages, for Sovereign’s sake—all her public speeches, no matter how short, were kept on record, and there were quite a few he’d listened to in which she addressed an entirely different colony in their own tongue with a perfect accent. Warriors were just as much Aranean citizens as Dociles were—at the bare minimum she should’ve understood the entirety of the claiming ritual, not just her part in it.

Also…“hose”? Must be a Docile thing. Thankfully, he’d never have to find out. “There’s a cleansing ritual after being claimed,” he said, not trying to sound agreeable in the slightest. “No ‘hose’ required.”

She cleared her throat. “Yes. Right.” As if she’d known all along.

He took hold of the drawstring of his pants, pausing as Theora’s pulse elevated further. For having just survived claiming a Warrior, this woman certainly was high-strung when it came to the mundane.

“Oh, you’re doing it here,” she said quickly. Perhaps she thought she appeared calm, but her blushing cheeks and subtle fumble for the doorknob told him she wasn’t half as confident in the situation as she pretended to be. “I’ll wait in the hall.”