The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 523: Why is she angry?
The fruit slipped from Isabella’s fingers and hit the stone with a soft thud, rolling to Glimora’s feet.
Glimora gasped dramatically like someone had died and quickly scooped it up, chewing loudly again, completely unbothered by the sudden tension that had gripped the entire corner of the cave.
Isabella sat there frozen.
Osiris watched her. Not blinking. Not breathing loudly. Just watching like he had dropped a weapon on the ground and was waiting to see if it exploded.
Her pulse thudded in her ears. Her throat tightened. The heat of the cave felt heavier. Denser. Suffocating.
She inhaled slowly and picked up another fruit, pretending to be calm when her heart was beating like a panicking rabbit. "That is none of your business."
Osiris tilted his head. "It is a simple question."
"It is none of your business."
"I am asking politely."
"You are not polite."
"I can be polite."
"Since when."
He thought for a moment. "Since now."
Isabella scoffed. "Too late."
She shoved another dried fruit into her mouth, chewing dramatically so he could hear how uninterested she was. Osiris stared at her like she was an unsolved mystery.
"What tribe is he from," Osiris asked again, softer this time. "Your mate. Was he from the northern plains."
She refused to look at him. "Eat your fruit."
"That means no."
"It means mind your business."
Osiris nodded thoughtfully as if she had just given him an answer. "If not the northern plains, then maybe the sand tribes."
She glared at him. "Did you not hear me."
"I heard you. You said nothing useful."
"Osiris."
"Yes."
"Shut your mouth."
He ignored that like ignoring her was his birthright.
"Sand tribes are fierce. Strong. Territorial. Perhaps he was one of them."
She clenched her jaw and looked away.
Glimora peeked between them, confused, cheeks full of food like a child caught in the middle of a divorce.
Osiris leaned forward. "Or perhaps he was a mountain warrior. They have strength. They have discipline. They are boring, but very strong."
Isabella inhaled sharply. "Stop talking."
"Was he boring," Osiris asked. "Most mountain warriors are boring."
"Osiris."
"Yes."
"Eat your fruit."
"I have eaten half."
"Eat the other half."
"No. I must know."
She threw a fruit at his face.
It bounced off his forehead.
Glimora gasped again.
Osiris blinked.
Isabella hissed, "Mind. Your. Business."
He picked the fruit up and dusted it off calmly. "It is my business."
"It is not."
"It is."
"Explain how."
He paused. "I am curious."
"No."
"That is a valid reason."
"No it is not."
"It is to me."
She growled under her breath. "Why does he annoy me like this."
Osiris popped another fruit in his mouth. "Was he a bad male."
"No."
"So he was good."
"I did not say that."
"You said no."
"I said no to your stupid question."
"So he was good."
"Osiris."
"Yes."
"Shut up."
He did not shut up.
He leaned even closer.
"Was he weak."
"No."
"So he was strong."
"Why are you like this."
Osiris nodded like a sage. "Strong but not too strong. Perhaps average. Average males have ego problems."
"You are describing yourself."
"I am not average."
"You are very average."
"I am extraordinary."
"You are annoying."
"You are small."
"You are ugly."
He flinched with visible pain. "Why do you keep saying it."
"You admitted it."
"It was temporary."
"It was the truth."
Glimora bit her fruit nervously as the argument heated again.
Osiris rubbed his jaw. "If he was strong then he must have had stripes. How many."
She froze for a microsecond before hiding it behind a glare. "I am not telling you anything."
"How many stripes," he pressed.
"No."
"Two."
"No."
"Three."
"No."
"Four."
"No."
"Five."
"No."
He paused. "Six."
"Osiris."
"Seven."
She inhaled sharply. "Osiris."
He nodded as if he had just solved a puzzle. "Eight."
"Stop counting."
"Nine."
"I hate you."
"Ten."
"Osiris."
"Yes."
"If you say one more number I will shove your head into the cave wall."
He thought about that.
He decided the risk was worth it.
"Eleven."
She almost lunged at him.
Glimora squeaked and dove behind a rock.
Osiris leaned back slightly, just enough to avoid her claws. "So he had many stripes. Interesting. Very interesting."
Isabella gripped her knees tightly. Her entire body vibrated from frustration. "Osiris. Stop asking me. Stop guessing. I am not telling you anything."
He rested his elbow on his knee and studied her face. "Why not."
"Because it is none of your business."
"It is."
"It is not."
"I saved your life."
"I saved your life too."
"I asked first."
"This is not school."
"I want to know."
"Too bad."
Osiris narrowed his eyes. "He must have been a bad male. A weak male. A foolish male."
She glared at him. "He was not weak."
"So he was strong."
"Osiris. Stop."
"It is a compliment. You are too stubborn to choose a weak male."
She blinked rapidly, caught off guard for half a second. "What."
"You would not choose someone weak," he repeated calmly. "You would choose someone who could handle you."
She looked away. "Mind your business."
Osiris smiled a little, pleased that he had struck a nerve. "So he was strong."
"Osiris."
"Yes."
"I am ignoring you."
"That is impossible."
She took a deep breath. "I am not talking about this."
"I am."
"You can talk to yourself."
"I am talking to you."
"I am not answering."
"You will."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
Her voice cracked. "Osiris, I swear on my unborn child. If you do not shut up, I will feed you to the creatures outside."
He tilted his head thoughtfully. "So he was a male who made you angry."
She pressed her hands to her face. "You make me angry."
"That means nothing. I make everyone angry."
"Exactly."
"So he was also stubborn."
She screamed internally. "Osiris."
"Yes."
"I. Am. Not. Telling. You. Anything."
He tapped his chin. "Was he tall."
"I am not answering."
"Short."
"No."
"Average."
"No."
"Taller than me."
She froze again but recovered fast. "Eat your fruit."
He smirked. He found another crack.
"So he was tall."
"I am not talking to you anymore."
"Good. That means you are hiding something."
She grabbed her bag aggressively. "You know what. You are insane."
"I am thorough."
"You are nosy."
"I am curious."
"You are crazy."
"I am logical."
"You are not logical. You are a rabid bird."
He gasped. "That is offensive."
"Good."
She reached into her space inventory and rummaged through it violently.
Osiris watched her, confused. "What are you doing."
"Removing myself from this conversation."
"How."
"Like this."
She slapped down a folded object.
Osiris blinked. "You never told me what you call your small home"
"A tent."
"A what."
"A tent."
He stared blankly. "A phoenix does not use a tent."
"I am not a phoenix."
He nodded softly. "That is true. You are small and human and annoying."
She kicked him lightly in the shin.
"Ow."
"You deserved it."
She expanded the tent. It grew bigger and bigger until it almost filled the entire corner of the cave.
Osiris scooted back. "It is huge."
"Yes."
"Why."
"So I can be far away from you."
He frowned. "That is ridiculous."
"No. What is ridiculous is you asking me fifty questions about my mate."
"They were important questions."
"No they were not."
"They were."
"They were not."
"They were."
She zipped the tent flap open. "Good night."
"It is not night."
"It is night to me."
"It is not."
"It is."
"It is not."
"Osiris," she snapped, her voice cracking with exhaustion and fury, "I am not telling you anything about my mate. Mind your business. Leave me alone. You are crazy. I am tired. I am pregnant. I want sleep."
He opened his mouth to argue.
She disappeared inside the tent.
Then she zipped it shut with finality.
Silence.
Glimora stared at Osiris like he was a criminal.
Osiris sat there.
Stunned.
Confused.
Upset.
Talking to himself quietly.
"Why is she angry," he muttered.
Glimora squeaked once.
Osiris nodded like the tiny creature had given him profound wisdom.
"Correct. It is her fault."
He stared at the tent again.
Then he sat there.
Still confused.
