Chapter 10 #2
“What makes you think this is for you?” Again, an even tone, but a slightly raised eyebrow betrayed his teasing.
“Well, you certainly can’t wear it. That color will completely wash you out.”
Argos let out a low laugh. He could feel Theora’s blush from where she stood. He wasn’t sure if she was pleased with herself for making him laugh or simply enjoying herself, but it was a nice change.
But she suddenly cleared her throat, turning away to go through one of her many suitcases. “Speaking of items of clothing, I need you to try these on.” She set down a rectangular case on the coffee table, opening it to reveal about a dozen pairs of glasses.
Argos put down his weaving. “I already don’t like the look of this.”
“Half the pairs are mine. But I wasn’t sure which style would look best on you, so I selected a few options for you, as well.”
“Why?” Argos asked, his tone part confusion, part distaste.
“To make you look more approachable.”
“Yeah. No.”
“Stop being stubborn.” She surveyed his face with a frown, then pulled out a pair of wire-framed glasses. “Try these on. I need to see if they fit, or if they need to be adjusted.”
“I’m here to protect you, not obey your every whim.” His chest began to rumble. “I draw the line at wearing sheets of glass on my face for no good reason.”
“They’re just for show.”
“Why?”
“Sovereign,” she grumbled. “It’s like talking to a toddler sometimes.”
“I could say the same about your temper tantrums.”
“I do not have temper tantrums,” she snapped.
Argos smirked, on the edge of laughter. “No, of course not.”
She tried to hand him the pair, but he wouldn’t budge. “Don’t test my patience, not when we’re literally five hours from having to fool everyone. Now put them on.” She thrust the pair of glasses at him, and he snatched them from her and put them on his face. “Was that so difficult, Warrior?”
He didn’t know why, but that single comment annoyed him. “Warrior.” Like she was his handler. Like they weren’t a team. Like he was just some tool to her, a weapon in annoyingly fancy clothes.
Well, if she was going to challenge him, he would challenge her right back. So, instead of responding, he broke the frames in half and tossed them casually across the room.
Theora gaped. “Argos!”
He growled.
“Cease!”
He growled louder as he stood. She’d reverted to her old ways of bossing him around for no reason. Of disrespecting him. Thus, he would hand the same back until she understood. “Don’t use the command words we hold sacred as an excuse to act like a brat.”
He could feel her hot, angry blush as she rose from the couch. “You’re going to wear these whether you like it or not.” She held up a pair of tortoiseshell glasses. “And don’t you dare break them, or—”
Argos glared as he crushed the frames in his hand and tossed the remains to join his first victim on the floor.
And before Theora could yell at him, he placed his hand on her chest and pushed her to sit on the couch again.
He took the violet-framed glasses from her face, dropped them onto the coffee table, and replaced them with a green pair.
Theora took a trembling breath. “Argos—”
“Cease,” he said.
He’d meant to do this as a means of challenging her authority, in the safest way possible. But Theora’s breath seemed to catch, and now her sweat, her blush, smelled different. Frustrated…aroused. Argos caught the subtle movement as she squeezed her thighs together beneath her skirt.
So. The queen enjoyed being commanded. Or was it being handled that had excited her? Either way, Argos had to catch himself, divert his thoughts before the blood rushed to the one body extension that could never touch her.
He looked away from her, pressing back a grin.
Fuck. You’re in trouble, Argos.
By then she’d recovered enough to stand, wobbling a bit as she stepped up onto the soft couch cushion, making herself taller so she could glare down at him. And, to his surprise, she whipped off the glasses he’d put on her and tossed them to join his.
“Retrieve my violet frames,” she ordered, and he didn’t hesitate, picking them up and popping one of the lenses back into place before bringing them back to her. She refused them and looked away from him.
Behaving like a true Warrior wife, he thought with a grin.
“I want the gold ones,” she said.
A growl rumbled in his chest, but he couldn’t tell what emotion was guiding it as he dropped the frames onto the coffee table and handed her the ones she wanted.
She put them on, blinking a few times to adjust to her clearer sight, and pointed to the lineup of Argos-sized frames.
“You’re wearing the black ones. Put them on. ”
Argos put them on without question, and he saw the moment her eyes brightened, if only briefly.
“Eyes here,” she ordered, and this time he didn’t hesitate to obey. “If you ever again give me that much trouble over something so trivial, I will make you regret waking up this morning. Do you understand?”
This woman is mad, he thought. Why do I like it?
“Good,” Theora said, as if translating his silence and unwavering eye contact as a yes. She cleared her throat. “Now, I need some air, so if you’ll excuse me—”
Argos took hold of her hips to assist her down, pausing the action when he heard her suck in a breath.
Her heart pounded, and he looked at her to be sure he wasn’t frightening her…
and saw the edge of something wild before she diverted her gaze.
She set her hands firmly on his shoulders, and he picked her up and set her feet on the ground.
He forced himself not to grip the supple flesh of her hips, instead releasing her quickly. She rushed off toward the door.
“Good boy,” she said, a condescending simmer to that gorgeous voice that at once made him angry and horny.
He immediately resented his body for reacting like she was truly his, like she was anything more than a spoiled royal who was used to getting her way. Once again, she was disrespecting him. She’d learned nothing.
She would have to be punished.
“Ten minutes,” he said.
She’d only opened the door and stepped into a small outer hall, but his deep voice halted her from going any farther. She swiveled back around, glaring at him with raised brows. “Excuse me?”
“You brought me along to protect you, right?” Argos filled the doorway, bowing his head slightly to clear it so he could face her. “I want you back in this room in ten minutes.”
“I appreciate your commitment, but there’s no need to concern yourself with my safety until we arrive—”
“It’s not a suggestion. Ten minutes should be more than enough time for you to ‘get some air.’ ”
Theora’s jaw dropped, but she seemed to recover from her shock quickly. “Who do you think you are, commanding me—?”
Argos growled and leaned down to make their faces level. He didn’t touch her. It was a warning, that was all.
“How dare you?” she demanded.
“Ten. Minutes.”
“Or what?”
“I’ll punish you.”
He saw her shiver, her confidence slipping ever so slightly. “You can’t punish me. I claimed you. You’re mine.”
He scoffed. “Is that how you think this works?” He clasped the back of Theora’s neck, and her jaw snapped shut out of pure shock, cutting off any further protests. “Know how to time ten minutes?”
She gaped, clearly recognizing that he was using her own words against her.
He’d have to continue wondering if she’d been bluffing about punishing him the other night—either way, he was certain she’d learned her lesson now.
He knew a good many ways to make people regret ever defying his commands, if he cared to implement them.
But of course, none of that was necessary.
He hated to admit it, but she did make it so very fun to put her in her place.
And Theora seemed to realize his thought as she rolled her shoulders back, glaring up at him with fresh confidence.
He tightened his grip on her neck, and she gasped and stepped forward as if to escape, only succeeding in bringing her face closer to his.
Her pulse raced in his grasp. In that snap of a moment, he felt an overwhelming desire to taste those perfect, pouting lips, but that irrational thought was quickly drowned out by her anger. “You are an insolent—”
“Your time starts now,” he said, releasing her, a laugh in his voice that never quite made it to his cold expression—all she had to do was speak and her words, if not her voice, deterred him from any fonder thoughts of her.
“You’re dismissed, wife,” and, without offering her their trust salute, he went back into the suite.