The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 79: Eat

Gasps filled the space. Zara visibly paled.

Kian—the Kian—stood rigid, his breath slow and controlled.

But something had shifted.

Something dangerous.

And then, just when everyone thought the worst had passed—

"If you won’t give him to me then I’ll leave."

Isabella’s voice rang out, firm and unwavering.

"Far away. If you plan on treating me like this, I’ll leave."

The tension snapped.

Zara, sensing her moment, immediately stepped forward.

She cooed Kian’s name, reaching for his arm, hoping to redirect his focus, to calm him, to remind him that she was here.

But the second her fingers brushed his fur—

"Do not touch me."

His voice was sharp. Brutal. Final.

Zara froze.

Her face drained of color. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

"I will not tell you again," Kian continued, ice coating his every word.

"Leave."

Zara’s throat bobbed.

"But—"

"Now."

"Isabella are you ok?" Kian called out to Isabella who had been staring Inti space for almost a minute, smiling stupidly.

"What do you think she’ll say now?" Ophelia asked quite interested, because you are never bored with Isabella and with Isabella you never know.

"I wish she would pounce on that stupid Zara" Shelia replied back scrowling, which made Opehlia flinch.

Isabella finally blinked, snapping back to reality. She had been so deep in her thoughts, playing out every possible scenario, that for a moment, she forgot where she was.

Kian’s deep voice lingered in the air, smooth yet heavy with authority. His blue eyes studied her, sharp and unreadable.

She cleared her throat. "A-ah, yes!"

Her voice came out a bit too high-pitched—damn it.

She immediately masked it with her usual confidence, straightening her back. No way was she letting any weird tension or bad energy ruin her day. Or night. Whichever it was.

Her grip tightened around the bowl of steaming pepper soup and yam, the heat seeping into her fingers.

Kian leaned slightly forward, his expression unmoving. "So why do you need him?"

His voice was calm but firm, the weight of his words unmistakable. "He is one of my best men. What can you say to convince me?"

A test.

A challenge.

Isabella’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile.

She met his gaze head-on. "Simple. I need him more than you do."

After some time if holding eye contact, Isabella let out a slow exhale, tapping her fingers against the clay bowl.

Her irritation simmered beneath the surface, but she masked it well. If this man thought she was about to grovel for Luca, he had another thing coming.

She lifted her chin. "You want change, don’t you?"

Kian said nothing, but the way his gaze flickered at her words told her he was listening.

She smirked. "Unless, of course, you expect me to do everything myself—craft, carry, build, invent—while you sit there looking pretty on your throne?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched.

Good. She wanted him annoyed. She was still mad at him.

She let her fingers skim the rim of the bowl, voice turning light, almost mocking. "This food is a testament to that change." She met his eyes, daring. "And since you’re the king, you should be the first to taste it."

Then, without missing a beat, she turned to Zara, who was still clinging to Kian’s side like some malnourished leech. Isabella tilted her head, her lips pulling into a slow, sweet smile.

"Oh? You’re standing awfully close." Her tone dripped with feigned innocence. "Are you scared he’ll choke? Or are you just waiting to steal his first bite too?"

Zara’s fingers tightened around Kian’s arm, her expression twisting just slightly before she smoothed it over with a frail smile. "Why would I do that?" she said, voice soft, calculated.

"I was only worried. What if the food doesn’t agree with him? He’s the king, after all. We can’t afford for him to fall ill over some... experiment."

Isabella arched a brow, her smirk deepening. "Oh? So now you’re an expert in cuisine? Didn’t you say you don’t season your food?" She tilted her head, voice turning saccharine.

"Or is it that you just don’t want him tasting something better than whatever it is you’ve been feeding him?"

Zara’s grip on Kian’s arm twitched, but she didn’t move away. Instead, she turned to him with wide, pleading eyes. "My king, I was only thinking of your well-being. You know I would never—"

"And yet, here you are, still standing too close," Isabella cut in, her smile unwavering. Then, as if suddenly struck by realization, she gasped lightly. "Wait... you’re not hoping to share a bite, are you? That’s a little desperate, don’t you think?"

The girls stifled their reactions, but their amused glances were undeniable.

Zara’s face stiffened, but still, she held her ground. "I was simply—"

"Simply what?" Isabella’s voice was still light, teasing, but there was an unmistakable sharpness underneath. "Hovering? Clinging? Hoping?" She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head.

"Sweetheart, if you’re that hungry, I can make you your own bowl. No need to act like a starving dog."

That did it. Zara’s face turned a shade paler, her fingers slipping off Kian’s arm as she took a step back—this time without hesitation.

She looked at Kian and saw he wasn’t even affected with her being humiliated, he never was. It pained her. It always did.

Kian stood, watching as Isabella whispered something to Glimora. The small creature perched on her shoulder tilted its head, clearly reluctant, but after a few more coaxing words, it finally fluttered off and disappeared into Isabella’s hut.

Strange. Kian’s eyes narrowed slightly as he felt the intense surge of spiritual energy radiating from the creature. It was subtle, almost hidden, but undeniable.

He made a mental note of it. That would be a question for later.

For now, his focus shifted back to Isabella.

She was walking toward him.

Zara stiffened as she watched bitterly. Ophelia and Shelia exchanged a glance, while Luca—who was still kneeling—held his breath.

Isabella finally stopped in front of him, head tilted back as she stared up at him.

Damn, he was tall.

For a second, she almost forgot her irritation. But then she remembered.

Without a word, she dipped the wooden spoon into the bowl, scooping up a generous amount of soup along with a chunk of meat. The rich aroma drifted up between them as she gently blew on it, cooling it.

Then, she lifted her gaze, eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

Her lips curved into a slow, sly smile.

"Eat."