The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts

Isabella’s fingers lingered on Kian’s hand for a moment longer than necessary, but then she quickly dropped it, her smile widening like she hadn’t just caused a small storm in his chest. With a quick, dramatic twirl, she turned toward him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Kian, darling, I’m going to need another hut for my dear brother Cyrus," she said with an exaggerated flourish. "You can’t possibly expect him to stay in that one," she said with a tilt of her head, her eyes batting in an exaggerated way that would have made anyone else think she was just being playful. But there was something in the way she said it that left no room for disagreement.

Kian, the ever-cold and detached figure, was quick to recover. He had always been skilled at shutting down his emotions. He met her gaze with that same unreadable expression, his icy demeanor undisturbed by the warmth of her touch just moments before.

"I will arrange that," he said simply, his voice as flat and impersonal as ever, though something in his eyes betrayed a hint of... something else. It was fleeting, like a shadow passing over the surface of a still pond.

Isabella didn’t catch it, of course. She was far too busy focusing on the next thing, her mind already buzzing with new ideas. "Oh, good," she said, her voice light and sweet, her smile dazzling. "And make sure it’s close—like the hut next to mine. You know, the one that’s empty. Is it?"

She glanced over her shoulder toward the small, rustic huts carved from stone and wood, their crude structures a testament to the simplicity of the early Stone Age. The cold air swept through the village, carrying the earthy scent of the ground beneath them. The huts were far from luxurious, but they were functional. Primitive, yet sturdy enough to withstand the elements. The one next to Isabella’s had been abandoned for a while, its hide door hanging slightly ajar, empty inside except for the sparse furnishings typical of their village.

Kian, ever the efficient one, only gave a sharp nod. "Yes. I’ll have it prepared," he answered, his gaze flicking briefly to the empty hut. He had already noticed it earlier but hadn’t bothered to comment.

Isabella, still grinning like she’d just pulled off some grand maneuver, clasped her hands together in front of her chest. "Oh, you’re too kind," she said, her voice dripping with sweetness, but her eyes held something far more calculating—something that told Kian this little exchange was far from over. "Now, about the arrangement inside the hut..." she began, as she walked past him, her fingers brushing against his arm ever so slightly, "I’m sure we can work out something very... cozy for my brother."

Kian’s lips barely twitched, but his eyes narrowed slightly as he watched her flit away, her steps light, almost too light, as if she were dancing through the air.

It was the way she moved. Too effortless. Too perfect. Her every gesture screamed confidence, yet there was something else beneath it—a hint of strategy, a glint of ambition. He was starting to realize that beneath that exterior of sweetness, there was a sharp mind at work. Something about her never quite added up, and he hated how it tugged at his mind.