The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 511: Maybe it doesn’t like short people

Chapter 511: Chapter 511: Maybe it doesn’t like short people

It wasn’t until the ground warmed beneath his bare feet that Osiris finally, finally understood what Isabella meant by "we’re going home."

They stood at the edge of a narrow slope, mist parting like a veil, revealing a monstrous cleft in the mountainside — jagged and deep, glowing from within with an eerie, red-orange pulse. Thick, blackened rocks rimmed the entrance like the cracked lips of a beast about to breathe.

And it was breathing.

Slow, steady exhalations of molten heat poured from within, making the air shimmer.

Osiris narrowed his eyes.

This... was a magma vein.

A living, breathing furnace of ancient energy.

Home?

His gaze shifted.

Slowly.

To the small, smug, impossibly annoying woman standing beside him.

"You’re joking," he said flatly.

Isabella tilted her head, arching a brow with the most unbothered face he had ever seen. "Why would I be?"

Osiris gave her a look.

The kind of look that said, Have you finally lost your mind, short-stack?

Isabella, of course, remained undeterred. "What?" she said, blinking innocently. "You’re made of fire, are you not?"

"...What."

She gave a careless shrug, turning toward the glowing entrance like this was just another Tuesday. "Bird. Fire. Lava. It makes sense."

"That is not how homes work."

"Says the homeless phoenix."

Osiris inhaled sharply.

This woman. This woman. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

Before he could bite back with something scathing, she was already stepping forward, the hem of her dress lifting slightly as the rising heat caught it.

She wasn’t even hesitating.

His eyes dropped, involuntarily, to her bare calves as she moved toward the edge.

And then—

His instincts flared.

Danger.

Fast. Hot. NOW.

He moved before he could think.

One step.

Two.

He grabbed her.

She gasped as he yanked her back, hard, into his chest.

Her hands instinctively flew up and hit something solid — his skin. His very warm, very bare, very broad chest.

The next second—

FIRE.

A roaring tongue of flame burst from the split rock, so sudden and violent that it scorched the air where Isabella had been standing just a breath ago. The sheer heat was enough to singe the edges of her dress, the wind tossing embers around them.

Osiris held her tightly, one hand gripping her waist, the other splayed across her lower back. His claws threatened to dig into her fabric. Not from aggression.

From instinct.

From pure, raw panic.

Isabella’s face was pressed against his chest, lips parting in shock as the heat from the eruption washed over them.

She hadn’t seen it coming.

She would’ve been...

She swallowed hard.

She didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

Because when she finally looked up—

Osiris was already staring at her.

And he wasn’t blinking.

Not once.

His golden eyes glowed faintly, the leftover embers of his beast blood burning beneath the surface. His pupils had slitted, sharper, thinner. Focused entirely on her.

He looked like a man on the edge of something dangerous.

And he was holding her like she was something he’d die to protect.

Neither of them moved.

His grip didn’t loosen.

Her hands didn’t fall.

Their bodies pressed too closely to ignore — heat meeting heat, tension building with every second of silence.

Isabella’s breath hitched.

Osiris’s gaze dropped, slowly, to her lips.

He stared.

Longer than necessary.

His jaw clenched slightly.

His hold tightened.

Her pulse leapt.

Something about the way his thumb shifted on her waist made her spine curve slightly — a stupid reaction, stupid body, stupid proximity—

She hated him.

She really, really hated him.

But gods, he was warm.

And big.

And so annoyingly pretty when he wasn’t talking.

And now he was staring at her like...

Like she was his.

No.

No, no, no.

Absolutely not.

Her fingers twitched against his skin.

She could feel his heartbeat beneath her palm. Strong. Heavy. Just like hers.

And then—

"Pip."

Both of them jerked.

Glimora.

The tiny beast stood a few steps away, her head tilted, watching them with huge, knowing eyes and a smirk that did not belong on a baby beast.

Osiris cleared his throat and immediately took a step back, dropping his hands.

Isabella jerked away like she’d been burned — which was ironic, considering how close she’d come to literal fire.

She turned sharply, fixing her dress. Her cheeks were hotter than lava. "I— I didn’t ask you to grab me."

"You’re welcome," Osiris said smugly.

"You did not have to—!"

"You’d be roasted meat right now if I hadn’t."

"I was fine—"

"Sure," he drawled. "You were definitely about to dance with a fire geyser."

"Stop talking."

"Gladly. You were making this awkward."

Isabella looked like she was about to commit murder.

Glimora coughed softly into her paw. "Pip."

She turned to the little beast, face still flushed. "Thanks," she mumbled.

Osiris tilted his head, amused.

She turned away quickly before she smacked that smirk off his stupid, perfect face.

Her heart was beating too fast.

Why was her heart beating too fast?

She took a steadying breath and faced the crack again.

The magma split had settled. The fire had withdrawn. But it was still glowing, still dangerous.

Still necessary.

She needed what was inside.

She needed the Firemoss.

And this was the only way to get it.

Osiris stepped behind her again, close but not too close. Still watching.

Isabella adjusted her grip on the fan at her waist.

Her system popped up with a silent reminder.

[WARNING: Extreme heat conditions. Proceed with caution.]

"No kidding," she muttered.

The wind spirit poked its tiny head from the fan. "Was that romantic tension I sensed?"

Isabella slammed the fan shut.

"I’m going in," she said, voice sharp.

No one argued.

And yet—

Osiris’s voice followed softly behind her.

"...Be careful."

She didn’t respond.

But her steps slowed slightly.

Just slightly.

And then she stepped toward the entrance.

Her heart still pounding.

Isabella took one cautious step forward. Fire whooshed out from the entrance again, hissing violently like the cave itself was alive and pissed off. She didn’t scream this time. She simply hissed and jumped back, her braid nearly catching the edge of the flame.

She narrowed her eyes, arms folded across her chest, glaring at the cave like it just told her she wasn’t pretty.

"Okay," she muttered through clenched teeth. "That thing definitely hates me."

Behind her, Osiris leaned against a jagged wall of obsidian, arms folded casually as if he hadn’t almost become roast bird fifteen minutes ago. "Maybe it doesn’t like short people."