The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 516: Could you not stand and wait for me again
The moment the system froze her, her mind went into overdrive. Every horrible possibility came crashing in at once.
What if the moss flared.
What if the heat overwhelmed him.
What if he slipped.
What if something was hiding in the crack.
What if he—
Another scream ripped through the mountain.
Isabella choked on a sound she didn’t know she could make. Her entire body trembled. Every hair on her arms stood up. The scream wasn’t human. It wasn’t animal. It wasn’t anything she recognized.
But it was Osiris.
It was him.
It had to be him.
She could hear him in the rawness of it.
Agony.
Pain.
Suffering.
"OSIRIS!" she shrieked. "WHAT IS HAPPENING, ANSWER ME!"
Nothing.
The scream cut off as abruptly as it started. Like someone ripped the sound out of the air.
The silence after was worse than the scream itself.
Isabella’s breath came in short, ragged pieces. She tried to force her legs to move but the system held her in place. The pressure in her chest grew unbearable.
"Bubu," she whispered, trembling, "we have to go up there. Please. Please I’m begging you."
"There is movement," the system replied.
"What kind of movement," she demanded.
"Unidentified."
"Brilliant. Amazing. That helps so much."
A low, dragging sound echoed from the crack in the rocks. Something scraped. Something thudded. Something heavy shifted.
Isabella’s heart jumped into her throat.
"What is that," she whispered.
Glimora pressed against her ankle for comfort.
Then something fell.
Hard.
A severed head hit the ground with a wet slap, rolling to a stop at Isabella’s feet.
Isabella screamed and stumbled backward, landing hard on her palms. Her breath caught. Her eyes went wide. She stared in absolute horror at the thing dripping black blood onto the hot stone floor.
It had no face.
No eyes.
Just smooth skin where features should have been.
The mouth hung open.
Empty.
Dark.
"What," she breathed, voice shaking. "What is that. What is that. What is that."
Glimora squeaked and hid behind her legs. The system didn’t respond.
Isabella’s stomach twisted violently.
Then another sound.
Heavy steps.
Slow.
Controlled.
Someone was walking out of the crack.
Someone alive.
Someone breathing hard.
Osiris.
He emerged from the shadows with blood streaked across his chest and arms. Not red blood. Black blood. Thick and tar-like. His hair was wild, sticking to his forehead with sweat and soot. His shoulders rose and fell with each breath, muscles tense, posture coiled like he wasn’t fully done fighting.
And the marks.
The glowing marks.
Red lines of light etched across his skin like veins made of flame. They pulsed softly. Dimly. Unevenly. Not natural. Not normal. Not something she’d ever seen on him.
He looked almost... feral.
Osiris landed on the ground in one effortless hop, boots touching the stone with barely a sound. He straightened slowly, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand and smearing black blood higher across his jaw.
Isabella stared at him with her entire brain short-circuiting.
He looked like someone who crawled out of a volcano after killing whatever tried to kill him first.
He looked dangerous.
And exhausted.
And strange.
And nothing like the Osiris she knew five minutes ago.
Her breath caught and held itself captive.
What happened in there.
What did he fight.
What did those marks mean.
Why was his aura different. Almost heavier.
Almost darker.
Isabella swallowed hard. Her mouth felt dry. Her voice barely came out.
"Osiris," she whispered, staring at him like he was a stranger, "what... what happened in there..."
Isabella could not breathe.
Osiris stood there in front of her, covered in black blood and glowing red marks that looked like someone carved fire into his skin. His chest rose and fell in slow, uneven breaths. Not playful ones. Not teasing ones. Not the smug air he always carried like a crown.
These breaths were heavy. Ragged. Quiet. Dangerous.
His eyes locked on hers with a strange intensity she had never seen from him. Not even on his worst, most annoying, most idiotic days. The heat inside the cavern pulsed behind him, flickering against his features like the flames themselves were standing at attention.
Isabella felt her heart kick hard against her ribs.
That was not the Osiris she knew.
That was not the man who joked.
Or flirted.
Or called her flustered.
Or smirked like he owned the world.
This one looked like something else.
Something old.
Something powerful.
Something she might have underestimated entirely.
Her pulse spiked.
Without moving a finger, she activated her fan with her mind. It snapped into her hand with a soft shimmer of light. Silent. Deadly. The metal cooled her palm instantly. She opened it halfway, eyes never leaving him.
Any wrong move, she was killing him.
She did not care if he was a phoenix.
She did not care if he was some ancient fire god.
She did not care if the entire mountain collapsed in protest.
She was not dying here today.
Not in this stupid cave or crack or volcano death trap or whatever cursed pit she followed this idiot into. Nope. No way. She had a baby. She had a life. She had far too many things to do before letting some overgrown flaming peacock murder her accidentally or intentionally.
Osiris still hadn’t answered her question.
Still hadn’t explained what happened.
Still hadn’t even blinked.
She swallowed.
He finally moved.
Not fast.
Not threatening.
Not even aggressive.
He simply walked toward her.
Calmly. Slowly. Quietly. Like he was approaching a frightened animal he didn’t want to spook. His steps left faint smudges of black blood on the stone. His breath fogged the air with heat. His expression was unreadable in a way that made her fingers tighten around the fan.
He stopped in front of her.
Then he crouched.
Gently.
His hand lifted toward her face, and Isabella nearly snapped his fingers off. Her fan twitched in her grip. Her eyes widened, her breath hitched, her instincts screamed kill kill run kill.
But his touch was soft.
Stupidly soft.
He brushed a stray curl from her cheek, his fingertips warm, almost tender. His thumb grazed her jaw like he had just returned from a calm walk in a meadow instead of a death fight inside the pit of a flaming hellhole.
His voice was soft too. Shockingly soft.
"Why are you on the ground, silly little woman," he murmured, tapping her cheek lightly. "Could you not stand and wait for me again. Or are you already that heavily pregnant." 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎
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