The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 225 - 226: You made a god want

"So you won’t take me with you?" Zyran asked, lower lip poked out in a perfect pout, eyes wide like some innocent child begging not to be left behind. His tone, of course, was dipped in mockery, and he even went so far as to press his palms together in front of his chest. "You’d leave me all alone, little temptress?"

Isabella stared at him like he’d just declared himself a lost puppy. Her eye twitched. Then twitched again. If she stayed any longer, she was going to scream.

"You’re not a stray dog!" she snapped.

"But I could be," Zyran said, dragging his voice into a melodramatic whine. "A very lonely, very dangerous, very sexy stray..."

"Gods, I need a drink," she muttered, rubbing her temple like she was fighting the world’s worst migraine.

Cyrus stood silently beside her, visibly trying not to smile. His eyes, gentle and soft as always, glanced at Zyran and then returned to Isabella’s flushed, frustrated face. "Do you want to head back?" he asked her, voice low, calm—like a gentle river smoothing her chaos.

"Yes. Yes, I do. Before I start throwing rocks," she replied and without warning, grabbed Cyrus’ hand like a lifeline.

Zyran raised a brow at that. "Oh? Holding his hand now? Should I be jealous?"

"No," Isabella said sweetly, already turning away, "because I don’t care what you feel."

"Ouch." Zyran clutched his chest dramatically like she’d shot him with an arrow of rejection. "You wound me, temptress."

"I meant to," she said through clenched teeth, tugging on Cyrus’ hand harder. "Come on. Let’s go. I can literally feel brain cells dying."

Zyran gave an exaggerated gasp. "So dramatic! You’re breaking my heart. Are you sure you don’t want to kiss me goodbye, just once?"

"I’m sure I want to punch you in the throat."

"Some people are into that."

"I’m not," she snapped, dragging Cyrus like an exhausted mom dragging her kid out of a toy store. "Cyrus, we’re going."

The poor man blinked at her, letting her pull him along even though his cheeks turned a soft pink. "O-okay."

Zyran called out once more, hands cupped around his mouth like a town crier. "At least miss me a little!"

"No!" Isabella shouted over her shoulder without turning around, hair flying as she stomped ahead. "I never want to see you again!"

And with that, she disappeared into the trees with Cyrus, their hands still linked tightly.

Zyran’s smirk lingered only for a breath after she vanished into the trees. Then, like a mask slipping, it collapsed. The corners of his mouth twitched once, then stilled. His crimson eyes, once glinting with mischief, dulled as they tracked the space she had just stormed through—hand in hand with another man.

He scoffed.

The sound was low, bitter, almost like a laugh—if laughing tasted like ash.

"She thinks she can leave like that?" he muttered, dragging his hand slowly across his face, fingers catching in his hair, then falling limp at his side.

The tree bark behind him creaked under the pressure of his weight as he leaned back against it, head tipping toward the moonlight with an expression hollow of humor. His dark hair spilled across his shoulders, catching the pale glow. But his mind wasn’t on the moon. It was drowning in her.

"You want to get rid of me," he said aloud, more to the shadows than anyone else. "After tormenting me for nights in my sleep?"

A laugh left his lips—flat, joyless, cracked at the edges.

He tilted his head, voice lowering into a whisper. "Torment. That’s what you do to me, isn’t it, Isabella?"

He stared blankly ahead, eyes locked on nothing, yet seeing her. Always her. In his head. In the dark. In the places no one else had ever reached.

"You creep into my thoughts like smoke. You linger. You burn."

His voice dropped lower, a husky rasp of restrained madness—hungry, desperate.

"I see you when I close my eyes. I feel your breath when I dream. I can still taste the heat of your skin. Every time I try to move on, your voice finds me. That little snort when you try not to laugh. That wicked mouth—gods, that mouth—always talking back like you know I’d never dare silence it."

He paused, chest rising, jaw tightening, his hand curling slowly into a fist.

"I didn’t ask for this," he growled. "Didn’t ask to need you like this."

His hand shot out and slammed into the tree beside him, splinters crackling under the force.

"You made me weak, Isabella," he whispered through gritted teeth. "You made a god want."

He stood in silence for a long beat, the echo of the impact fading into the trees. The forest seemed to hold its breath, as if it too was wary of what he might do next.

"I thought I could play with you," he muttered, voice detached now—talking to himself like a man trying to peel apart the madness from logic. "Flirt. Tease. Get you out of my system. But you—" his eyes sharpened suddenly, his lips curling with something darker than desire—"you were not a game."

He turned his head slowly toward the direction she had gone, where the sounds of her stomping and ranting had long disappeared into the distance. But in his mind, her voice still echoed. "I never want to see you again."

He repeated it aloud, softly, lips barely moving. "You never want to see me again?"

Then, very slowly, a smile returned to his face.

But this one didn’t reach his eyes.

This smile was tight. Dangerous. The kind of smile that bloomed on the edge of obsession.

He ran a thumb across his bottom lip, eyes narrowing.

"No, Isabella. That’s not possible."

His tone was final. Low and certain.

"I want you now. A bit too much."

He stepped away from the tree, each movement controlled, like a predator calculating distance and timing. The wind tugged at his hair. Something about him shifted—he no longer looked like the charming, smirking rogue. He looked like something older. More ancient. More... hungry.

"I must have you."

His voice dipped to a whisper again, but it wasn’t empty this time. It was full of promise. Not sweet. Not kind. A promise born of fixation, and the terrifying patience of someone who had already decided the end of the story.

"You opened a door, Isabella," he whispered. "Now you don’t get to close it."

His eyes burned beneath the moonlight.

"You will see me again."

And this time, he smiled for real—slow and creeping, like a secret the dark had been waiting to reveal.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freewe(b)nov𝒆l