Chapter 30
Theora
Theora rolled over in bed, her body protesting the effort with a groan. She felt heavy, achy, raw. Was sex supposed to make you feel like you’d just tumbled down a mountain, hitting every rock along the way?
She willed herself to sit up, touching her head to make sure her silk scarf was still in place. It was a wonder she’d remembered to put it on after…
Theora covered her blushing cheeks with her hands.
Consummation was one thing. An all-night passion fest was something else entirely.
She’d counted at least five orgasms before begging for her first break—after that her brain could no longer keep up, didn’t want to.
She just wanted to enjoy every moment with her husband before she had to share him with the world.
The beautiful part was, it wasn’t just sex—between sessions they would chat and laugh and cuddle. Theora didn’t know why cuddling was one of her favorite parts…perhaps because she’d never really done it before. Not since she was a child.
Still, when Argos wasn’t restricted by Honor and the original rules she’d put in place, even with his injury, he was a lot to take.
She should’ve expected it, since he seemed to have an unlimited supply of stamina when it came to fighting and hunting…
Maybe she just hadn’t expected that sort of behavior from herself.
Argos walked in from the adjoining room with a tray of assorted items. He placed the tray on the side table, while Theora put on her glasses to see what was on it.
“Good morning,” she said, trying to keep her voice as neutral as possible, which was silly—this was no longer just a marriage of convenience. She cleared her throat and tried again, nerves making her voice squeak slightly. “Good morning.”
Argos leaned his hands on either side of her on the bed and kissed her. Theora knew it was coming, and yet she had no idea what to do with her hands, so she just placed them on top of his, her touch turning to a grip as he sucked her bottom lip.
“Wow,” she gasped.
Argos smirked. “Good morning,” he replied as he stood to organize his tray, then handed her a plate of oranges—sliced the way she liked them. “Finish all of them.”
“Is that a command?”
“Instruction,” he said with a raise of his brow. “I figured you skipped over learning these particular rituals.”
“I certainly did. Avoided all thought of them like the plague, in fact.”
“And look at you now. Underprepared. Tragically dependent.”
Theora raised a brow. “Please don’t annoy me this early in the morning, Argos.”
“It’s not that early.” He glanced at his watch. “Ten, actually.”
“Oh, Sovereign.” Theora groaned. “I’m so late.”
“For what?” He offered their salute, then held her chin in his hand. “All of them,” he repeated gently.
Theora could’ve melted at his touch, his tone. “Okay,” she said.
He took the tray with the rest of the items into the bathroom.
She put a fluffy pillow in her lap to rest the plate on and set to eating her orange slices.
She wasn’t even hungry, but if Argos said to eat them, she would do it.
She’d never wanted to please someone so thoroughly in all her life.
She had never thought she’d be that kind of wife.
Honestly, she’d never expected any sort of difference in her life—she was a queen, and she would remain a queen doing queenly things, only with the addition of a consort to provide her with company and maybe accompany her to public events.
She’d never expected to care for a man so deeply that she would do whatever he asked of her. Not only that she would do it, but that she would want to. That she would enjoy making him happy.
Argos came back over and helped her out of bed.
She winced, holding on to him so her knees wouldn’t buckle, and he responded by picking her up and carrying her to the bathroom, where there was a steaming bowl of water mixed with oils and florals, and a towel laid out on the ground.
He put her on her feet on top of the towel, positioning her with his hands on her shoulders.
“I have to wash you now,” he said. “In reverence of your initiating a sacred bond.”
Argos pushed the straps of Theora’s silk nightgown off her shoulders.
She reached to cover her naked breasts as he slid it down her body, but then quickly abandoned the idea to grip her fists at her sides.
She ignored the dull pain of his hands rubbing over her sore muscles and focused on the part that she couldn’t quite make sense of.
Sex was one thing—pleasure took over, blinding one to reality.
But, in reality, she had never been touched this way.
To be touched on a clothed shoulder or hand was intimate enough.
But this…she wasn’t prepared for this. She wanted it…
she liked it. She just wasn’t prepared for how it would feel.
How it would make her feel.
And now, as Argos washed her body with the fragrant water, speaking a prayer over her as he went, Theora found herself having to force back the urge to cry. It shouldn’t have mattered, since he had seen her in a much more vulnerable state than this…but crying over a ritual felt silly.
A ritual was an act. Something performed, not felt. It wasn’t personal.
And yet, as he rubbed the oil into her skin, she felt tears glide down her cheeks. His hands were strong, his touch firm but gentle. Comforting. Loving.
She let out a trembling gasp as her husband’s lips pressed against the scar above her hip, abandoning her stubborn closed fists to grip his hair, running her fingers along his scalp.
“The herbs are strong,” she lied, wiping her eyes quickly when Argos finally stood to look at her.
He held her face and kissed the top of her head with one last prayer, and Theora finally broke, sobs shaking her. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face into his warmth, her tears mingling with the oil.
For a moment, all she could do was cry as he held her.
“Warrior rituals remind me of you,” she said when she could finally bring herself to speak. “Passionate. Heartfelt. Sometimes dangerous…” She looked up at him, her glasses smudged, but still clear enough to see his grin. “Beautiful.”
“Now you’re getting it…” Argos leaned down and kissed her, and Theora could’ve cried all over again. It was such an incredible feeling to be truly loved.
She wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck, so that when he carried her to the bed and laid her down, he had no choice but to lie beside her.
Theora chuckled. “You know, it’s actually hard to believe that I was afraid of you the day we met.”
“I know you were,” Argos said with a bit of a cringe. “I’m sorry.”
She ran her fingers over his scalp. “I’m not scared anymore. But I thought you were going to kill me that day.”
“Sorry,” he murmured again, saluting her.
“I don’t blame you.” She returned the salute. “Although, it wouldn’t have been so bad if you’d cleaned up a little after your hunt. There was blood everywhere.”
Argos raised an eyebrow. “Blood?”
“It was two weeks ago and you don’t remember? You looked like you had just torn someone’s heart out with your mouth.”
A silly grin slipped to his lips, and then he laughed. It was a beautiful, soothing sound—despite all the pain he’d been through over his life, he knew how to laugh better than Theora did.
Even so, she found herself scowling, an embarrassed blush burning her cheeks. “What’s so funny?”
“It wasn’t blood,” he said, trying to recover from his laughter. “It was battle paint.”
“Battle paint?” She blinked at him. “Are you kidding? It looked just like blood.”
“I wanted to scare you, and it worked.”
She pulled away from his touch and snatched a pillow from the bed, slamming down her wrath on his head. “You absolute ass!”
She slapped him on the head until she was laughing, too, and then threw the pillow away and hugged his head to her body, rocking back and forth. “I adore you, you know that?” she murmured to the top of his head. And then she tilted his face up and kissed him. “No more secrets?”
He nodded.
“Good. Let’s not keep anything from each other ever again.”
Argos shifted, wrapping his arm around Theora from behind and pulling her into his chest. “I love that marriage smell,” he murmured.
Theora grinned. “The oils?”
“The oils, the oranges…” He slid his hand between her thighs, guiding her legs open. “You.”
Theora twisted slightly so she could look at him. “You’re insatiable.”
“And?”
Theora giggled. “We have to get up and plan a wedding.”
His brows lowered with slight confusion. “Again?”
Theora kissed him between his furrowed brows. “Again.”