The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 139: I found a male!!!

Her eyes darted up to him, an awkward smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Well, this is... definitely not something I ever thought I’d be doing."

Cyrus didn’t even glance at her. His eyes were focused ahead, and his tail gave a small, fluid swish as if pleased with itself.

"Comfortable?" he asked, his tone casual.

Isabella shrugged slightly. "Surprisingly so. Though, I’m not sure I’m fully convinced that I’m not just one step away from being swallowed whole."

"Don’t worry." His voice held the smallest note of amusement. "You’re safe for now."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but couldn’t hold back the small chuckle that escaped her lips.

There was no denying it—this was bizarre, and definitely not how she imagined her day would go.

But here she was, sitting on a giant snake tail, being carried like some sort of princess by a man who was, frankly, way too calm about all of it.

Isabella huffed again, trying to suppress a smile. "Just don’t get any ideas. I still have my pride, you know."

Cyrus said nothing, his tail giving a gentle flick, but the tension between them felt lighter now.

Maybe, just maybe, there was something to this strange partnership after all.

...

"Oh, Isabella!"

The excited voice rang through the open courtyard, bouncing between stone walls and sun-dappled vines. Isabella turned just in time to see Ophelia racing toward her with both hands flailing and a wide grin stretching across her flushed face.

Before Isabella could so much as blink, a familiar weight launched itself into her chest.

"Glimora—!"

With a squeak of betrayal, the fluffy creature lunged and hooked her slender, hoof-like feet around Isabella’s neck, clutching her like a lover demanding answers.

Isabella stumbled back a step, barely managing to catch her balance as she secured Glimora in her arms.

"Oh," she exhaled, momentarily stunned.

Glimora’s white fur bristled as she climbed up Isabella’s shoulder with her nose high in the air—refusing to look at her. Her tail swished, clearly insulted.

Isabella’s brows drew together.

Why did she get the sudden, sharp feeling that her baby was... genuinely mad at her?

Her chest tightened. "Oh no," she muttered under her breath, lifting Glimora in both palms and studying her face. "She really is mad at me."

The little creature huffed, turning her head dramatically away again—but curled even deeper into Isabella’s hands, refusing to leave.

"I’m sorry, cutie," Isabella whispered with a guilty smile, nuzzling her cheek to Glimora’s head. "I didn’t mean to scare you, okay?"

Glimora, ever the princess, allowed herself to stay grumpy... while conveniently melting into Isabella’s touch.

A small laugh escaped Isabella as she gently scratched the soft fur under Glimora’s chin. "Drama queen."

"You were saying?" she asked, finally glancing up at Ophelia.

But Ophelia was frozen.

Mouth open.

Eyes wide.

Almost unblinking.

Isabella blinked back. "Opehlia?" she called slowly, waving a hand. "What’s up with your face?"

Ophelia didn’t answer. Her gaze was locked—wide as dinner plates—on something behind Isabella. No, beneath her.

Isabella’s spine stiffened. Then she remembered.

Oh.

Right.

She was still perched on Cyrus’ tail.

With a small huff, Isabella slid off gracefully, smoothing down her skirt as she landed with a soft thud on the grass.

The moment her feet touched the ground, the massive tail she’d been riding on shimmered with a faint red sheen before retracting—scales vanishing into lean muscle.

In a blink, Cyrus’ lower half morphed back to human form, a hide skirt wrapping around his waist like it had always been there.

Behind him, faint glimmers of red and gold dissipated into the air like sparks from a dying flame.

"Are you amazed or scared? I can’t tell," Isabella teased with a crooked grin, brushing imaginary dust from her lap.

Ophelia’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. "C-Can I say both?"

Her voice came out like a squeak.

Isabella let out a breathy laugh. "Figures."

Cyrus said nothing, standing tall and composed beside her, as if he hadn’t just been a fifteen-foot serpent a second ago.

"So." Isabella turned back to Ophelia. "You wanted to tell me something before I was rudely tackled by my emotional furball?"

"Yes! Yes!" Ophelia suddenly bounced on the balls of her feet, cheeks flushed with excitement. "I found a male!"

Her voice practically glittered with giddiness.

Isabella raised a brow. "You found a male?"

"He’s perfect!" Ophelia gushed, twirling in place like a child with a secret. "Kind! Gentle! Handsome! And he smiled at me like—like I was the prettiest girl in the world!"

Oh boy.

Isabella’s smile twitched, but her thoughts darkened slightly.

She still remembered the creep Ophelia had cried over weeks ago. A male Isabella had practically dragged her away from.

Her sweet friend’s kindness was a double-edged sword—one that made her too trusting, too easy to sway with compliments.

Still, the way Ophelia glowed made Isabella bite back her concern. For now.

"I can’t wait to meet him," she said with a gentle smile.

Ophelia beamed, cheeks puffed. "He’s like a dream! He talks so politely, and his eyes are sooo deep, and—"

Isabella zoned out halfway through the fifth compliment.

Her brain snagged on something else.

This mystery male—he had to be one of the Palace’s recent visitors.

Which meant—

"Wait," she cut in smoothly. "So you saw the guests who came today?"

At once, Ophelia’s dreamy expression deflated.

"Oh. No. The guards didn’t let anyone in." Her pout returned. "Kian said not to."

Isabella’s smile faded.

They weren’t letting anyone in?

Her mind ticked. Something wasn’t right. If even Ophelia couldn’t sneak a peek, those guests had to be important. Dangerous, maybe. Or hiding something.

Still, she didn’t speak her thoughts aloud. No need to worry Ophelia. Not yet.

She just nodded with a soft hum, letting her gaze drift over the stone palace as the shadows grew longer.

Across from her, Cyrus tilted his head, quietly observing.

There she goes again, he thought. That flicker in her eyes. Calculating. Sharp. Like a blade behind a curtain. He’d seen her loud, angry, even dramatic—but this silence? This was something else.

What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?

His voice broke the silence. "Would you like me to take a look for you?"