The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 654: Weren’t you about to scold me? Why do you look so comfortable now?
It did not disappear completely, because that would have required a miracle and perhaps a small army, but it became so much easier to bear that Isabella actually let out a soft, shocked sound before she could stop herself.
A satisfied moan especially her lips.
"Ah, this feels so good"
It was embarrassingly satisfying.
For one brief moment, her mind went blank.
The pressure on her lower back eased. The pulling ache in her body lightened. Even the babies seemed to settle down, as if they too approved of being held properly for once.
Isabella’s lashes fluttered. She forgot all about scolding. She forgot all about pride. She forgot that two breaths ago she had been preparing a speech about shamelessness and boundaries and disrespect.
Instead, she melted back against him with a quiet sigh, resting her head against his chest as if this was the most natural thing in the world.
Behind her, Zyran’s red eyes softened with something so obvious it was almost shamelessly sweet.
He had only wanted to tease her a little at first.
That was truly the truth.
He saw her standing there by the window with the morning light touching her face, wrapped in thick winter furs with her long hair falling down her back, and she looked so beautiful that his hands itched. He wanted to hug her. He wanted to annoy her. He wanted to hear her call him shameless and then secretly enjoy it.
That was his original plan.
But the moment he held her belly up properly and felt her whole body relax against him, his teasing thoughts were scattered to the wind.
She looked so comfortable.
So trusting.
So soft.
For a second, Zyran even felt ridiculous pride in himself, as if he had accomplished something grand and noble, when in truth all he had done was hold up his pregnant woman properly.
Honestly speaking, the standards of beastmen in love were really very low.
Zyran lowered his head slightly and looked at her face. "Weren’t you about to scold me?" he asked, his voice lazy and amused. "Why do you look so comfortable now?"
Isabella, who was still enjoying the heavenly relief in her poor suffering back, opened one eye and glared at him.
The glare was weak.
Far too weak.
"Keep your hand there," she said at once. "I like it like this."
The corner of Zyran’s lips lifted. He looked downright pleased with himself now.
"So direct?" he murmured. "My little wife is becoming more honest."
Isabella did not even bother arguing about the "wife" part this time. That alone showed how comfortable she felt. Instead, she adjusted herself slightly in his arms, very naturally making him hold more of the weight.
Zyran’s heart nearly burst from joy.
He wanted to laugh.
He wanted to brag.
He wanted to call every other male over and ask whether any of them had ever seen such a beautiful scene in their lives.
Before he could do any of those shameless things, quiet footsteps came from the doorway.
Cyrus had entered carrying breakfast.
The warm smell arrived first. Freshly cooked meat, hot broth, and something faintly sweet rose into the air, cutting through the cold morning scent and making the room feel instantly warmer.
Cyrus stopped when he saw them.
His gaze first landed on Isabella, then on Zyran’s arm wrapped around her, then on the hand holding up her stomach.
A small stab of jealousy went through him before he could stop it.
It was not ugly jealousy. It did not make him angry at Isabella. It did not even make him angry at Zyran.
It simply made his chest feel a little sour. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦
Because Isabella looked comfortable.
Very comfortable.
More comfortable than she had looked in days.
And the person giving her that relief was not him.
Still, Cyrus only paused for a heartbeat. The jealousy stayed buried under the much stronger feeling of relief. She looked happy. She looked physically at ease. That mattered more.
So he stepped in quietly, face calm, as if seeing another male wrapped around Isabella this early in the morning was not something that made his heart twist a little.
Then Isabella saw the tray in his hands.
Everything changed immediately.
She straightened up like a person hearing holy music. Her eyes went straight to the food. Her body, which a moment ago had acted as if it would never leave Zyran’s embrace again, instantly abandoned him without shame.
She slipped out of his arms and hurried, as much as a heavily pregnant woman could hurry, toward the low table.
Cyrus watched her go, and the little sour feeling in his chest vanished at once, replaced by something softer.
Zyran, on the other hand, stared after her in disbelief.
This female.
Just a moment ago she had practically melted into him like warm honey.
Now, because she smelled food, she had left him behind as if he were an old fur blanket.
"How heartless," Zyran muttered.
Isabella was already sitting down carefully on the cushion, eyes fixed on the breakfast like a person welcoming a long-lost relative. "You can complain later," she said. "Bring the food closer first."
Cyrus knelt by the table and set everything down one by one. There was a bowl of hot broth, slices of roasted meat, and some warm flat cakes that smelled faintly of the grain Isabella had introduced to the village. The food was simple, but warm and fresh. In winter, that alone was enough to make anyone happy.
Isabella’s expression softened at once.
Cyrus always paid attention to what she liked. Even if he was troubled. Even if he trained too hard and made her angry. Even if he clearly did not sleep enough. This male still somehow remembered how long she liked the broth to boil and which cakes were easiest for her to eat in the morning.
Honestly speaking, how could she stay angry at him properly?
That was very annoying.
Just as she was about to take the first bite, a familiar shape slipped in through the doorway.
Glimora.
