The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts

The moment the deep voice rang out, every single head snapped toward the entrance—including Ophelia, Shelia, Zara, the man who had escorted Isabella to her room, and Isabella herself.

Then, they saw him.

Kian walked in, confident, unbothered, like the world itself had no choice but to part before him. And you know, if Isabella was the type to drool, she would’ve been a puddle on the floor ages ago just from hearing his voice alone.

And now, seeing him? Oh. Oh.

Since it was the stone age, of course, he was only wearing an animal hide skirt, his muscular chest fully bare, his skin looking like it had been sculpted by the gods themselves. Isabella’s fingers twitched. She secretly wanted to have a feel.

And she promised herself—sooner rather than later, she was going to do just that.

Kian walked straight ahead, face cold as ice, his piercing gaze locked on something—or rather, someone. Isabella, being the quick thinker she was, immediately moved aside for him to pass.

And ding! The system rewarded her with [+1 Agility].

Isabella smirked at the notification. Good to know her survival instincts were paying off.

But then—ugh. Zara.

The stupid girl was still in his way, trying to act pitiful. "Kian—" she started, but before she could even reach for him, it became painfully clear that he wasn’t stopping. At all.