The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 513: Every time you open your mouth, I lose two years of life
Isabella lifted her hand toward the Firemoss, fingers still wet with the makeshift "snowmelt," ready to test Osiris’s absolutely idiotic suggestion—
When Osiris suddenly stepped forward, eyes widening.
He hadn’t expected her to actually move.
He hadn’t expected her to actually trust his stupid idea.
And the moment he saw her reaching out with real intention, real determination—his stomach dropped like a stone off a cliff.
For one glorious, terrifying second, he actually felt his soul leave his body.
Like: Goodbye world, it was nice existing.
"Wait—Isabella—!"
He grabbed for her wrist.
Too late.
Not too late for the moss—
but too late for himself.
Because Isabella spun around like lightning, eyes burning with fury, and SMACKED his chest so hard her palm echoed off the stone walls.
Osiris froze.
His mouth hung open. His brain blue-screened. His soul was tapping the "log out" button.
He blinked once.
Then twice.
Then very slowly looked down at his own chest like, ...did this tiny menace just ATTACK me?
Even Glimora, who had been quietly vibing in the corner like a decorative plant, jolted upright, her leaves rustling like, Violence? Already?
Meanwhile, Isabella was staring at him with the expression of someone who had just discovered her husband had eaten the last piece of cake she specifically told him not to touch.
The rage was personal.
Biblical.
Generational.
Osiris didn’t even breathe.
He just stood there, chest stinging, dignity gone, wondering how this became his life.
Actually froze.
He stared at her, wide‑eyed, as if someone had just slapped a phoenix prince—
which, yes, she had.
Hard.
"...why," he whispered, "are you hitting me?"
Isabella’s chest rose sharply.
Her eyebrow twitched.
Her lip curled.
Then—
She exploded.
"ARE YOU INSANE?!" she shouted, voice bouncing off the molten walls. "WHAT KIND OF IDIOT—WHAT KIND OF ABSOLUTE, FEATHER‑BRRAINED, FLAME‑FOR‑BRAINS MORON—TELLS SOMEONE TO PUT THEIR HANDS NEAR A FIRE MOSS USING—USING—USING HOT WATER?!"
Osiris blinked, taken aback. "It wasn’t hot—"
"It was STEAMING, YOU LAVA-SOAKED WALNUT!"
Glimora quietly stepped backward, paw to her mouth, like uh-oh mama snapped again.
Isabella didn’t stop.
Oh no.
She was just beginning.
And Osiris could only stand there, blinking rapidly, wondering how he became the designated punching bag of her righteous fury.
"I WAS ABOUT TO DO IT! I WAS REALLY ABOUT TO DO IT!" she pointed at her own hand accusingly, as if betrayed by her fingers. "Do you know how STUPID that would’ve been?! DO YOU?!"
Osiris opened his mouth.
This was a mistake.
"Actually—"
"DON’T. TALK."
He closed his mouth.
"This is YOUR FAULT!" she went on. "YOU said it might work. YOU said it was ’cool enough.’ YOU said—OH, LOOK, LAVA WATER, HOW SAFE!"
Osiris’s face twisted. "I didn’t say it like that."
"YOU THOUGHT IT LIKE THAT!"
"I—"
"How many brain cells do you have? ONE? HALF? LESS?"
"I was trying to help—"
"WELL YOU FAILED!"
Glimora nodded vigorously. "Pip-pip."
Osiris looked between the two of them, completely lost. "How is this—why are you—Isabella, you slapped me for—"
"I SHOULD SLAP YOU AGAIN!"
He lifted a hand protectively to his chest. "Hey—this is sensitive—"
"GOOD!"
Isabella stepped forward, stabbing a finger into his sternum repeatedly.
"You. Almost. Made. Me. Touch. FIRE. With. HOT. WATER!"
"That wasn’t my—"
"SILENCE!"
"I—"
"SILENCE!"
He snapped his mouth shut again.
She glared at him so intensely he actually leaned back a little.
"You want me dead?" she hissed. "Is that it? You want to roast me? Bake me? TURN ME INTO A SNACK FOR THIS MOUNTAIN?!"
Glimora gasped dramatically. "Pip!"
Osiris blinked. "Why would I want you dead?"
"BECAUSE YOU’RE ANNOYING!"
"That doesn’t mean I want you dead!"
"Well YOU ALMOST KILLED ME!"
"I DID NOT—"
"YOU DID."
Glimora tugged Isabella’s dress like a concerned toddler. "Pip?"
Isabella placed a comforting hand on her head, still glaring at Osiris like he personally invented volcanoes.
"I swear," she muttered, "every time you open your mouth, I lose two years of life."
Osiris spread his hands helplessly. "If you would just LISTEN—"
"Oh? LISTEN?" She threw her hands up. "To WHAT? Your expert opinion on sticking my HAND into a MOLTEN PLANT?! Amazingly, Osiris, I don’t WANT to DIE today!"
"It wouldn’t have killed you—"
"It would have COOKED ME!"
"I—"
"COOKED. ME."
His jaw clenched.
Her eyes narrowed.
Glimora watched them like she was watching her parents’ marriage fall apart.
Osiris took a breath.
"Are you done?" he asked quietly.
Isabella blinked in disbelief.
"DONE? DONE? OH, I AM NOT DONE—"
But before she could unleash another verbal explosion, Osiris moved.
Fast.
Very fast.
He grabbed her wrist.
Not harshly.
Not painfully.
But firmly.
And then—
He pulled her.
Hard.
Right into him.
Her breath caught.
Her chest brushed his.
Her free hand slapped into his bare torso again—this time without force—and his other hand rose, catching her elbow, steadying her.
The closeness hit her like a punch.
Heat.
His body was heat.
Solid, unyielding, bright heat, wrapping around her like the fire she was trying to avoid.
Isabella froze.
Completely froze.
Her heart leapt into her throat.
Her eyes widened, staring up at him—
And he stared down at her.
Hungrily.
Not romantically. Not sweetly.
No.
Osiris looked at her like a beast finally recognizing something important.
Something instinctual.
Something that made his breath deepen, made his pupils shrink, made his grip tighten just enough to remind her exactly how small she was compared to him.
Her lips parted, barely.
He leaned closer.
Closer.
Until his breath brushed her cheek.
Until their noses nearly touched.
Until her pulse hammered so loudly she thought he might hear it.
Glimora slowly covered her eyes.
Osiris bent his head lower. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂
His lips hovered over hers—
Not touching.
Just close enough to taste the air she exhaled.
Close enough for her eyelashes to tremble.
He whispered, low and rough:
"...you don’t have to do it."
Her breath caught.
He leaned in even closer.
Their lips hovered—
Barely a hair apart.
"I will do it."
