My Second Chance Mate is a Barbarian (Sera and Fenris) novel Chapter 239

Sera

“The brine needs refreshing,” she said, her voice returning to that clinical, detached rasp. “Go. Join your husband. The elders are waiting.”

I didn't answer. I didn't offer a smile. I turned and walked out of the room, the iron door heavy against my palm.

The corridor was dim. The grease lamps flickered, throwing long, distorted shadows against the stone. I started walking, my heart hammering a rhythm that pounded against my ribs. Every step made the heavy wool of the trousers rub against my thighs. I could perceive the wetness there—not from arousal this time, but from the cold, oily sweat of a different kind of fear.

I rounded the corner to the Alpha’s level.

Fenris was standing at the end of the hall. He was leaning against the stone archway near the balcony, staring out at the grey morning sky. He still had the black ash on his jaw. He appeared massive, a silhouette of iron and fur that owned the very air he breathed.

He heard my boots. He didn't turn around, but I saw his shoulders shift.

“You were down there a long time,” he rumbled. His voice carried that low, possessive vibration that usually made the bond in my chest hum.

I stopped ten feet away. I didn't move any closer. I couldn't. If I got within his scent range, I feared he’d pick up the "sour" smell Madra had described. The pheromones rolling off him hit me from across the distance, a thick, musky wave of spices and raw demand. It clouded my brain, making my thoughts heavy and sluggish. He was horny. The information was written in the air, undeniable and aggressive.

Fenris finally turned. He didn't stay by the archway. He started walking toward me, his heavy boots thudding with a slow, purposeful cadence.

I wanted to back away, to keep the safety of the distance between us, but the wall was already there, cold masonry biting into my spine.

He stopped inches from me. He didn't touch my face first. He leaned in, his nose grazing the skin of my neck. He inhaled, a long, noisy pull of air that made my pulse spike. He was hard. I could see the thick, solid bulge straining against the leather of his trousers, a physical threat that made my pussy throb in a mindless, traitorous response.

“Sera,” he groaned.

He reached down, his massive hands clamping around my waist. He hoisted me up as if I weighed nothing, his fingers digging into my flesh. He placed me on a raised stone platform—a decorative ledge built into the hallway. The stone was freezing against the back of my thighs, a sharp contrast to the furnace-heat radiating off his shirtless chest.

He didn't wait. He reached for the laces of my wool tunic. His fingers moved with a frantic, uncoordinated speed I hadn't seen from him before. He pulled the fabric apart, the laces snapping under the pressure of his hands. He pushed the wool off my shoulders, letting it hang around my elbows.

My breasts were out. The cold air hit my skin, making my nipples harden into tight, sensitive peaks. Fenris stared at them, his breath coming in jagged, wet gasps. He leaned forward, taking my left nipple into his mouth, his tongue broad and rough as it swiped across the tip.

I let out a sharp, broken sound. I was gone. The alcohol from the feast might have been long gone, but the high of his touch was more intoxicating. I was soaking. I could feel the slickness running down my thighs, a hot trail of evidence. I arched my back, pushing my chest into his face, my hands tangling in his dark, messy hair.

He moved his hands down to the waistband of my trousers. He shoved his thumbs inside the leather, starting to tug them and my underwear down past my hips.

Common sense returned in a cold, violent flash. The scent. Madra's warning about the "sour" smell of a rival Alpha's heir echoed in my skull. If he got his face between my legs, if he tasted me now, the secret would be out.

I grabbed his wrists, my fingers small and weak against his thick bone.

“Stop,” I wheezed, my breathing heavy.

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