My Second Chance Mate is a Barbarian (Sera and Fenris) novel Chapter 221

Lyra

I had begged Sera on that call. I had begged her because Nadia had asked me to. I had begged Sera to stay away even when I knew Nadia was suffering for it. Father was ready to execute them all if they didn’t provide Sera.

Knowing that, I still told Sera not to return. Not to ruin the entire thing we had worked for. And that plan had ended up with Nadia’s life on the line. Still I chose to protect my sister over the woman I loved.

I had agreed because refusing would not have stopped her, and the only thing worse than letting it happen would have been refusing and watching it happen anyway with my refusal between us. I had agreed and then I had spent three months sick with it. I had eaten breakfast across from the woman who was telling me she had made her peace with dying for my sister, and I had not made my peace with anything.

The night Sera escaped I went into my cupboard and cried until I could not breathe. Not because Sera was gone.

My father had already arrested Nadia. Her parents. Her younger brother. All of them in the lower cells.

When Sera called from the cabin three days later, I begged her to stay away the way. Coming back was ruining everything Nadia was working for.

I didn’t want Nadia to hate me.

But underneath all the begging, I wanted Sera to come back so Nadia would not be executed three days later in the dungeon.

But I didn’t say any of that.

I lifted my hand and put it on the back of her head.

"I missed you," I said. At half volume. Into the curve of her shoulder where she could not quite see my face.

"I missed you too."

She dragged it down my throat.

She worked me slowly — the corner of my jaw, the soft place below my ear, the line of my neck — each press of her lips deliberate, unhurried, the patience of a woman who knew exactly where my attention lived and enjoyed taking it apart piece by piece. I could feel her breathing through my palms on her back. Controlled. Slower than it should have been.

Her hand went to my chest, down the centre over the silk, and stopped at the top of my breast. She held it there, the warmth of her palm through the fabric, and then lifted it and started again from the top.

The sound I made was embarrassing.

"There you are," she said, into my throat.

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