My Second Chance Mate is a Barbarian (Sera and Fenris) novel Chapter 344

Lyra

So I kept my eyes on the horse, on the way its coat glistened in the winter light, and I tried to keep my voice light and casual. "Guess you've had your fair share of scaredy-cats, huh?"

Odile's smile was wry, her fingers still wrapped around the rope. "You could say that," she said. "But hey, at least I have an excuse to be out here with a beautiful woman."

I rolled my eyes, even though I could feel the flush rising in my cheeks. "Beautiful?" I snorted. "I'm covered in mud and I've got straw in my hair. I doubt I'm beautiful right now."

Odile stepped closer then until her body was almost flush against mine, and I could feel the warmth of her skin. She reached out and picked a piece of straw from my hair, her fingertips brushing my temple, and her eyes met mine. "Oh, you'd be surprised what you look like right now," she said quietly.

And then, just like that, my breath caught, and the easy intimacy felt too much. The way she looked at me, the way she touched me, it felt...intimate. Familiar.

I stepped back, pulling the rope taut, and Odile's smile faltered. "Sorry," she said, and for once, her voice didn't come easily. "I didn't mean -"

But I waved it off, trying for a smile of my own. "Don't worry about it. I'm just...not really...good with people."

Odile nodded slowly, her eyes still searching my face. "It's okay," she said. "You're doing fine with me."

And before I could respond, before I could think of something witty and deflective to say, the horse suddenly tossed its head, whinnying loudly, and we were both distracted.

I stared at her for a moment, the rope loose in my hands. My pulse was still too high, the adrenaline still buzzing under my skin. Odile was easy and glowing in the winter light, her face flushed, her eyes bright even with the black kohl eyeliner.

She was smiling at me, and it made my chest tight. It made me feel warm, like she could see me, like she knew me. It made me want to step closer, to feel that warmth again. To feel something besides the cold emptiness that always lingered inside me, the ache of betrayal and the burn of loneliness.

"My father would have loved this," Odile said, and her voice was warm and rich and easy. "He likes the mean ones. Says the mean ones are just honest."

I frowned. "He likes horses?"

"Yeah," Odile said, and she reached out to stroke the horse's nose, her smile still playing on her lips. "The mean ones. He says they're just honest."

And I couldn't help but feel a pang of bitterness, a sour taste in the back of my throat. "Mine's not honest," I said, and my voice came out flat, cold. "He's not anything to me."

Odile frowned then, tilting her head to the side. "But yours isn't...good to you?"

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