The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 138: You can’t be serious. You want me to sit on your tail?

Isabella paused, her back still to him. She could feel his gaze on her, the weight of his unspoken words pressing against the air between them. She exhaled slowly, fighting back the urge to just leave and pretend nothing had happened. She wasn’t some fragile thing he needed to worry about. She wasn’t about to let him see her in a weakened state, not when she had worked so hard to get here.

"Normal women would be dead by now," Cyrus had said.

The words lingered, pulling her thoughts in all kinds of directions. The truth was, she knew she’d been reckless. But she didn’t need him—anyone, really—telling her that. She’d made it out of there fine, hadn’t she?

Isabella tilted her head back, just enough for him to see the sharp edge in her eyes as she spoke, her voice steady but carrying a slight edge of defensiveness.

"I didn’t need protection," she said slowly, purposefully. "I’m not some damsel in distress you need to babysit. The mountain’s dangerous, but I can handle it."

She could practically hear his quiet assessment of her words. His silence made her bristle, but she held firm, never once looking back to meet his gaze.

"I don’t need anyone’s help," she added, the words thick with stubbornness. "I just... needed to get something done."

A moment passed before she heard him speak again, his voice calm, his presence looming even from behind. "I’m not trying to help you because I think you need it." His words were so unexpectedly gentle it almost threw her off. "I’m just concerned about you."

Isabella scoffed, shaking her head, but she didn’t let the bite leave her tone. "Concerned? Is that what this is?"

Cyrus said nothing, and for a brief moment, Isabella felt her resolve waver. Maybe she had overestimated her abilities. But there was no way in hell she was going to admit it. Not to him.

She turned to face him fully, her back straight, her eyes locking with his.

"I’m not weak," she said firmly, the words hitting harder than she intended. "You don’t have to worry about me."

For a moment, the two of them stood there, staring each other down in a silent, tense standoff. Cyrus didn’t blink, didn’t budge, and his expression remained neutral, but she could see the small flicker of concern in the slight crinkle between his brows.

Isabella shook her head again, this time with more resignation. "I’ll be fine. Really. But thanks, I guess."

And then, before she could turn away again, she felt his gaze become more intense. It was almost predatory, but without the usual malice she had grown to in this world.

He was sizing her up, watching her every movement. The tension thickened as he finally spoke.

"You’re too weak to walk for long, Isabella. You shouldn’t push yourself. Get on my back." He said it so simply, so matter-of-factly, that she didn’t know how to respond for a moment.

Isabella froze, her face falling into something between disbelief and mild irritation. "What? No. I’m perfectly fine."

She straightened her posture, attempting to walk away, but Cyrus’s words stopped her once more.

"I know you’re stubborn," he said, his voice no longer soft, but firm and unyielding. "But you’ll tire yourself out before long. Don’t be foolish."

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, a mixture of disbelief and exasperation flickering across her features. "I’m not getting on your back. You’re ridiculous." (Blushing)

His lips twitched in the faintest of smiles, as if amused by her resistance. Then, with no warning, his lower body began to shift. His muscles rippled beneath his skin, a serpentine form appearing from the waist down.

Isabella blinked in surprise as his tail emerged—long, thick, and covered in scales that shimmered in the light.

The red was vibrant, deep and striking, like a molten sunset—swirling with darker undertones and edges that seemed almost alive.

The tail curled around the ground, flexing like a coiled spring, and there was no denying its sheer beauty. It was powerful, graceful, and undeniably alien in a way that was mesmerizing.

She stared at it for a moment, her mind trying to process what she was seeing.

"No," Isabella said with a hint of a scoff, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes. "You’re not planning to eat me, are you?"

Cyrus merely smiled softly, the curve of his lips so subtle it almost didn’t count as a smile at all. "Not today, Isabella. Not unless you’ve changed your mind."

Isabella let out a scoff of her own, a chuckle slipping from her lips, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "Yeah, right. I’m sure that’s exactly what you’re waiting for, right?"

His expression didn’t change, and he simply said, "Sit on my tail."

Isabella looked at him, her brow furrowing as she processed the words. "You can’t be serious. You want me to sit on your tail?"

Cyrus didn’t seem at all fazed by her obvious reluctance. In fact, he almost seemed a little... patient, like he was waiting for her to come around.

"You’ll be more comfortable," he said, the way he said it leaving little room for argument.

Isabella sighed, rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms, her foot tapping impatiently. "You are insufferable."

And yet, as much as she wanted to argue more, she could already feel her legs growing heavier with each passing moment, the exhaustion starting to creep in.

She had pushed herself too hard, and as much as she hated to admit it, her body was reminding her of her limits.

She looked down at the massive tail again, its reddish scales gleaming under the sun. She exhaled sharply and, with a reluctant grimace, walked toward it.

Cyrus’s tail was surprisingly soft, like a cushion made of scales and muscle, the surface warmer than she expected.

But the sensation was strange—almost too soft and smooth for something so massive. Isabella shifted slightly, trying to find her balance as she sat on it. It felt weird.

Oddly comfortable, but... it was still a snake tail, and that was something she wasn’t quite used to.