My Second Chance Mate is a Barbarian (Sera and Fenris) novel Chapter 193

Elara

I stepped out of the restroom, the steam from the scalding water still clinging to my skin like a thin, damp shroud.

Delegate Vance was still slumped in the center of the massive wooden bed, facedown in the dark furs. He looked almost deadlike, his limbs splayed out at awkward, useless angles. His back was a map of fresh red scratches from where I’d anchored myself, and his skin was covered in a sheen of cold sweat that caught the flickering orange light from the hearth.

I scoffed. He was a high-ranking delegate of the Mistwood Pack, and yet he’d folded like a cheap southern fan the second I really put my waist into it. He had a massive dick, sure, but he had the stamina of a yearling pup and zero idea how to move his weight. For a creature that was supposed to be physically superior to a human in every way, he was pathetic. None of them could outmuscle my sex. None of them could handle the way I took what I wanted.

I was done with him. I was done with this room. But I needed to fix one thing before I walked out that door.

I dressed up. Making sure I was just as neat as I walked in here.

I reached for the piece of heavy linen cloth I’d laid out on the table. Inside was the gold.

One hundred and twenty thousand dollars. That was the math I’d done in my head while he was panting against my neck. It was dense—roughly three and a half pounds of solid southern gold. I wrapped the cloth tight, tying it into a bulky, lumpy bundle. It was heavy, a solid weight that felt like freedom.

I tucked the bundle into the waistband of my trousers, smoothing the wool of my tunic over it. I just had to get it back to my quarters without being cornered by Jace or Kane himself.

I walked to the edge of the bed. Vance let out a low, wet snore.

I drew my hand back and delivered a brutal, open-palmed slap directly across his cheek.

Crack.

The sound was sharp as a snapped branch. Vance yelped, his body jerking convulsively as he scrambled to sit up. He was disoriented, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused, his face already turning a splotchy, angry red where I’d hit him. He looked like he was ready to roar, his jaw tightening and his chest expanding as he prepared to shout for the guards.

I didn't give him the chance. I placed my index finger firmly over my lips.

"Shhh," I hissed.

Vance froze, his mouth hanging open. The anger in his eyes was still there, a hot, predatory flare, but it hit a brick wall when I raised my other hand.

The energy in the room went cold.

Vance’s eyes went wide. His pupils dilated until the grey of his irises was nothing but a thin, terrified ring.

"Where... where did you get that?" he choked out. His voice was thin and shaky, all the "Delegate" arrogance drained out of him.

I smiled.

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