The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 519: What was that for?

The two expensive items floated in the air a moment longer before dropping to the stone floor with a soft metallic clink, which should not have been possible because the cavern was practically vibrating with heat. Isabella just stared at them like they personally slapped her.

Over Four hundred points each.

Nine fifty points gone.

She wanted to cry.

And she absolutely blamed Osiris.

He sat there on one knee, shoulders rising and falling, breathing erratic. Black blood dripped down his chin again. The glowing lines across his chest pulsed like someone shoved fire beneath his skin. And yet he was looking at her with this quiet... calm. Like he didn’t want her to worry. Like he was pretending everything was fine so she wouldn’t freak out.

It didn’t work.

Her left eye twitched again.

She rubbed her face aggressively. "This is so stupid. You are so stupid. I swear I am going to scream."

Osiris blinked up at her, eyes tired, confused. "Why are you yelling. You were not the one inside."

"That is exactly why I’m yelling!" she shrieked.

Glimora hid behind a rock with both paws over her ears because the yelling bounced all around the cavern.

Isabella exhaled through her nose, sharp, impatient, panicked. She bent down, picked up the two expensive healing items, then called her system again.

"Bubu. I need bandages."

Cheap ones.

Preferably one-point ones.

She was broke now. Emotionally and literally.

The shop popped open.

She found a roll of enchanted bandage for two points.

She bought it.

She glared at the system anyway for being a traitor.

With the bandage still floating near her hand, she snapped at Osiris.

"Stretch out your hand."

He obeyed immediately. Not even looking at her. Just lifted it forward like she was asking him to pass the salt at dinner. His palm hovered in front of her face, burnt, cracked, charred, glowing with red fissures. The edges were dark and ashy, and when he moved, she saw the tremble he tried to hide.

Her heart squeezed.

She ignored it.

"What did you even fight in there," she muttered under her breath.

He didn’t answer.

Not because he refused.

Because he honestly didn’t have breath for long sentences right now.

She crushed the first healing item in her hand. It dissolved into shimmering particles that floated around his palm before sinking into the torn skin. The sound it made was soft, like sand settling.

Osiris hissed and flinched.

She smirked. "Oh. So now it hurts."

He shot her a weak glare. "It always hurt."

"No. Because when you were up there screaming like a boiling kettle, did you cry? No. You came down smiling and talking about pregnancy."

"It was a joke," he muttered.

"Well your face is a joke."

His lips curled slightly. "And you like my face."

"Not right now, I don’t."

He inhaled sharply when she applied the second crushed item. His shoulders jerked. His head fell forward slightly as the burn sizzled and the glowing lines dimmed then brightened again.

She tapped his forehead lightly. "Stop being dramatic."

"You are the one being dramatic," he grit out.

"I am not burned alive."

"You are loud."

"You are ugly."

He made a tired noise that might have been a laugh if he weren’t dying.

She sat beside him, legs tucked under, and leaned in closer to get a better look at his hand. She blew on the wounds without thinking. He looked up at her sharply.

"What was that for," he asked.

"I don’t know," she snapped. "Instinct. Should I spit on it next since you’re complaining."

He blinked. "Please do not spit on me."

"Then do not question my blowing!"

They both stopped arguing when the second healing powder finished sinking into his skin. The trembling in his hand lessened slightly. The dark cracks sealed at the edges but not fully. The burns still looked horrendous but no longer like they were actively melting.

She exhaled.

He did too.

She unrolled the bandage. It glowed faintly gold. She bit her lip and reached for his wrist gently this time.

He stiffened.

Not because of pain.

Because her fingers were soft and warm and steady.

His breath caught, barely noticeable, but she noticed anyway.

She pretended she didn’t.

"Do not move," she said quietly.

He nodded, watching her with that strange calm again. His hair was sweaty, wild, messy, sticking to his forehead. His jaw looked sharper with the black smears on it. His eyes were darker, heavier, deeper than she’d ever seen them.

He looked... different.

She tried not to stare.

She failed.

She wrapped the bandage around his palm slowly, weaving it between his fingers carefully to avoid touching the cracked skin. Every time she grazed an injured patch, his breath hitched. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just small, sharp breaths he tried to suppress.

It made her chest tighten.

She hated it.

She hated that she felt sympathy.

She hated that he looked so breakable.

She hated that she cared.

"This is disgusting," she muttered to distract herself. "Your hand looks like burnt bread."

He looked offended. "You compare my suffering to bread."

"One hundred percent."

"I fought a monster."

"And bread fought back."

His jaw dropped slightly. "Isabella. Please."

She snorted.

He winced again when she tightened the bandage.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh. So now you make noises. But five minutes ago you were acting like a warrior king."

He whispered, "I am a warrior king."

"You are a burnt croissant."

He blinked, confused. "What is a croissant."

She paused. "It’s bread."

He stared.

She smiled mockingly.

Then she shook her head. "Hehe. Lift your hand. Higher."

He obeyed, still looking at her with that tired but weirdly soft expression. His breathing steadied a little. The worst of the glowing red fissures faded beneath the bandage wrap.

She leaned in to make sure it was secure.

Her face ended up close to his chest.

Too close.

She felt the heat radiating from him. Not normal heat. Phoenix heat. A slow thrum beneath his skin like the heartbeat of fire.

Her stomach flickered.

She scooted back quickly. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

His eyes followed her movement silently.

"Stop staring," she snapped.

"You are interesting to look at."

"Well stop!"

"No."

She threw the leftover bandage wrapper at him. It landed on his shoulder like a sad leaf.

He sighed, the sound soft, almost amused again, then winced because even breathing hurt.

She reached out on instinct, grabbing his forearm. "Don’t move too much."

He stared at her hand on him.

She pulled back fast. "Not because I care. But because you’ll fall and then I’ll have to carry you and I’m pregnant and you’re huge and it will be humiliating for both of us."

He blinked, processing that slowly. "I am not that huge."

"You are. You’re built like a door."

"A what."

"Never mind!"

She finally tied the bandage securely. The enchantment shimmered once, activating its healing function.

Osiris flexed his fingers slightly. The pain dulled instantly but the strain remained. He let out a quiet groan of relief.

She caught it.

Her heart jumped.

She pretended it didn’t.

The cavern stayed hot and heavy around them, but for a moment, it felt like peace settled between them. A fragile, ridiculous peace built from insults, bandages, expensive healing powders, and Osiris trying not to die on the floor.

She wasn’t sure she liked the feeling.

It felt too warm.

Too close.

Too comfortable.

She stood up quickly.

He followed her movements with slow eyes.

Before she could say anything else, a loud sound ripped through the cavern.

A screech.

Ear splitting.

Sharp.

Massive.

Echoing from above them.

Glimora jolted.

Isabella whipped her head upward. "What the—"

She didn’t even finish.

Osiris grabbed her clothes and yanked her close protectively.