Chapter 29 #2
She shivered despite the warmth of his hand as he pushed her hair behind her ear, pressed his lips to her temple.
“No,” he whispered back, and moved to the other side of the bed, lying on his stomach.
Theora sat stunned. Now, instead of her husband’s body, humiliation heated her face. She looked over her shoulder to see him adjusting his pillow. “I lay my ego and dignity at your feet, and you have the nerve to say no?”
“Yeah, actually.”
“What more do you want?”
He yawned, as if he were already bored of being married.
This was the Argos she was used to, and she had no idea why she still let him rile her up this way—he was as sexy as he was infuriating. She stood to glare at him, her fists trembling, fighting to keep back frustrated tears. “I did everything I was supposed to. You can’t push me away.”
He didn’t respond, his eyes closed like he’d already settled into taking a nap.
“Y-you’re being extremely dishonorable right now.
” Theora honestly couldn’t tell if she was turned on or angry.
Maybe both. Maybe it had always been both.
And, if that was the case, she would dig a hole and bury herself six feet under before allowing this massive brat to get the better of her, even if he was just doing it for sport.
“You accepted my trophy, which means we share the bed.” She crawled across the bed, then pulled on the covers he was lying on in an attempt to move him, too. He didn’t budge. “And this is my side.”
Argos finally opened his eyes to give her a questioning stare.
“I like sleeping on this side,” she clarified.
“Why?”
“It’s close to the bathroom.” She made another attempt to push him to the other side, but her efforts were gaining impossibly small results. “It’s my side. Don’t question me.”
He gave an amused raise of his brow, then sat up. “Let’s compromise.”
She sighed. Finally. “What do you have in mind?”
“It’s an easy solution. Look.” Argos ran his hand from one end of the bed to the other. “This is for me.”
“Okay.” Theora faltered, her brows lowered slightly. “That’s the entire bed—”
She shrieked as her husband scooped her up in his arms and dropped her onto the carpet.
“That is for you.”
“What the—hey!” Theora gaped, leaning up on her elbows, her body throbbing slightly from the sudden drop. Already she was getting wet, and he’d barely touched her. She got to her feet, smoothing down her dress, heat rising up her neck. “You accepted my trophy. The rule is we share the bed.”
Argos made a long, thoughtful noise, as if he were considering her argument but didn’t find the reasoning behind it to be sound.
She stormed back to the bed, but she had only one knee on the covers before Argos scooped her over his shoulder and dropped her where he’d left her before. She growled in frustration, and tried again, only to be dropped again.
And again.
And again.
Each time, Argos removed a piece of his clothing and dropped it onto the floor, as if he were tallying up his victories. It was almost a dozen times of throbbing hips and elbows before Argos lounged on the bed completely naked and Theora finally paused to assess the situation.
She wondered if this annoying Warrior thing of challenging each other was going to become tiresome, or if she was just too impatient to see it through.
She pushed herself to her feet, her fists trembling with too many emotions.
Anger, disappointment, humiliation. Adoration, love, desire.
Every single one of them forcing her to keep back tears.
And to think, she’d put on a designer dress for this man.
“You petty asshole!” she snapped. His only response was another yawn. “I know you don’t really expect me to sleep on the floor—”
“I’m tired, wife. Cease.”
Theora gasped and stormed toward the bed. “If you think I’m going to let you dominate me all night, you—”
Argos was on his knees in a second, two inches from Theora’s face, growling. She wished he would kiss her already, her knees nearly buckling beneath her as he pulled her to him by her waist.
Theora’s heart beat all over her body, everywhere she wanted him to touch. She had endured his punishment. Now she wanted her reward.
“I’m going to wake up to so many bruises,” she said with the slightest grin.
“You should’ve never brought me that trophy, then,” Argos said, pressing his forehead to hers as he slid his fingers beneath the band of her underwear.
“Why does that sound like a threa—?” A small sound of shock and pleasure pushed every word out of memory as Argos grabbed her naked ass beneath the fabric.
And she knew she only had to say one word. Just one word was all that was required to make him stop.
But fuck, she wanted this. She wanted her husband.
So she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as the cool silk of her panties skimmed her legs, falling around her ankles.
And then Argos’s fingers were between her thighs, stroking her.
Long, painfully slow strokes, dragging a long whimper out of her to match.
She grabbed her husband’s wrist, her knees threatening to buckle, her voice laced with pleasure and pleading as she said his name.
“Don’t make me stop,” he said, dragging her into his lap. His hand balanced between holding her throat and caressing it, his thumb firmly tracing up her neck where her blood ran hot. “Not now that you’re mine.”
He kissed her cheek, her jaw, her throat, seeming to relish her hungry moans. He pushed her sleeves off her shoulders, exposing her breasts and back to the chilly room. She squirmed a bit, trying to free her arms.
“Cease,” Argos whispered.
She trembled with anticipation, uncertainty, excitement, nerves. She had a sudden urge to take control, as she always did…but she didn’t move, affection and need in her gaze that her words could never truly express.
“Don’t torment me, Argos,” she whimpered.
He grasped her chin, holding her still as he teased the side of her neck with his teeth. “I thought you liked to be punished.”
She uttered a stifled moan, gripping him close as he sank his fangs into her neck where he’d prepped it.
They penetrated for only a second, then retracted, the barest amount of venom burning its way through her blood.
Theora wobbled slightly, and Argos held her still on his lap.
She whimpered, her trembling fingers running down the small wounds like her own body couldn’t believe what had just happened, let alone her mind.
She gasped harshly, closing her eyes against the heat racing through her veins. Her hand pressed on his chest, as if imploring him to make it stop, even though all she wanted was more.
And then the venom cooled, just at the edge of burning and bearable, throbbing through her entire body. Like the dull pain of pressing on a bruise.
Like the aftershock of an orgasm.
Theora moaned, such overwhelming pleasure mingled with the pain that for a moment all she could do was sit there and bask in the sensation. Not process it—she couldn’t think, couldn’t speak.
Just feel it.
Absorb it.
And then, all too soon, it was over, the throb lessening until it drifted away, the side effect of the meager amount of venom defeated by her blood.
Theora opened her eyes and found herself looking at the ceiling. She lowered her chin, taking deep breaths, desperately trying to regain the air she couldn’t catch as she looked at her husband in disbelief.