Chapter 346: Chapter 346: I hope I will not be the death of you
Isabella froze, lips still pressed against Kian’s. Her eyes flew open, wide, breathless, but she couldn’t peel herself away fast enough. Glimora, cheeks scarlet, spun on her heel and bolted out of the room. The door slammed shut with a bang that echoed through the walls.
For a moment, silence hung thick and heavy.
Isabella pulled back at last, gasping for air, her lips tingling, her entire body trembling from the force of what had just happened. She sat there on top of him, hair falling loose around her face, her pulse racing out of control.
"Kian..." she whispered, her voice wrecked, unsure whether to laugh or collapse.
Her breathing was uneven, lips still tingling from his kiss, but what caught her more than anything was the way he was staring at her.
Kian wasn’t Kian anymore—not the stone-faced Beastman who glared at the world like it had wronged him. No. His mask had slipped completely, and what shone through was raw, desperate, undone. His blue eyes glowed with a molten brilliance, a fire and ocean entwined, searing into her as though nothing else—no palace, no sky, no world—existed outside of her.
Her throat tightened. He looked lost—not in the world, but in her, drowning in a current he no longer fought. And for the first time, she saw it in his gaze: surrender, quiet and absolute, the kind that strips a man bare and leaves nothing but truth behind.
"Isabella," he whispered, so softly it barely carried, his voice trembling with a depth she had never heard from him before. It was almost reverent, almost broken. Like a man on the edge of surrender. "You will be the death of me."
Her chest heaved, her breath catching as the words sank in. His expression was so devastatingly serious, so unguarded, that she couldn’t even breathe for a moment. Her heart pounded as if trying to break free from her chest.
She tilted forward slowly, almost hesitantly, as though one sudden movement might shatter the fragile air between them.
Her lips brushed against his forehead, featherlight, then lingered there in a kiss that carried more than words ever could.
His skin was warm beneath her mouth, his breath catching just enough for her to feel it against her chest.
She closed her eyes, inhaling the faint, earthy scent of him, and let the moment steady her racing heart. "I hope I will not be the death of you," she whispered, her voice trembling as though the reassurance was more for herself than for him—as though she could kiss shut the cracks she had just uncovered in the man everyone believed unbreakable.
For once, he said nothing. He only stared, his hand sliding up her back, curling into the strands of her hair as if anchoring himself. His gaze drank her in, heavy, desperate, unrelenting.
Then, as though something inside him finally caved, he bent forward and pressed his face against her collarbone. His arms tightened around her waist, holding her as if the very act of letting go would undo him. His breath spilled warm against her skin, uneven, almost trembling, and she felt the faint drag of his nose as he buried himself deeper against her. For a heartbeat, he didn’t move—just stayed there, inhaling her, filling his lungs with the faint, rosy sweetness that clung to her hair and skin.
Isabella’s hand hovered, startled by the rawness of it, before she slowly threaded her fingers through his hair. The soft strands slipped between her fingers as she held him there, cradling his head against her, and her own chest ached at how fragile he felt in that single, unguarded moment. His body was solid, unyielding, but here, pressed into her, he seemed to tremble with restraint.
He lingered, longer than she thought he would, breathing her in like she was something holy, something he’d been denied for too long. When he finally lifted his head, it wasn’t in a rush. It was slow, reverent, reluctant, as though parting from her was a kind of pain. His eyes, darker now, searched hers with a hunger and despair so open she almost couldn’t bear to hold it.
Then he bent forward and kissed her again—only not her lips this time.
The first kiss landed on her cheek, featherlight. Then another on the tip of her nose, and then another just at the corner of her mouth. Each one so soft, so deliberate, as though he was memorizing her piece by piece.
"Kian..." she whispered, her voice breaking with nervous laughter. Her lips curved in a helpless smile as his mouth trailed over her skin.
Her giggles spilled out when his lips grazed her jaw. "Stop—" she half-laughed, half-sighed, tilting her head despite herself.
But he didn’t stop. His kisses rained down slowly, reverently, a rhythm she didn’t want to escape. Down her throat, tracing along her neck. She tilted her head back, eyes fluttering shut, her giggles blending with the soft gasp escaping her lips.
"Kian, that tickles," she teased, laughter trembling through her voice, but she was clinging to him, her fingers curled into his shoulders like she never wanted to let go.
He hummed against her skin, low and deep, vibrating against the delicate curve of her neck. "Then laugh," he murmured between kisses, the heat of his breath sending goosebumps down her arms. "I like it when you laugh."
Her heart lurched. She didn’t expect that—him saying something so unguarded, so plain. She pressed her forehead against his, still smiling, still flushed, and whispered, "You’re different today."
His response was another kiss, this one under her ear, making her shiver. "No," he breathed, his lips brushing against her skin as he spoke, "this is me when I stop fighting."
Her cheeks burned. She could barely think, barely breathe. He was kissing her everywhere now—her collarbone, the slope of her shoulder, and lower still, his mouth finding the curve just above her breast. Each kiss made her laugh and gasp all at once, her fingers tugging at his hair, her body leaning into his touch like she had no control left.
"Kian," she whispered, her voice breathless, broken up by soft giggles. "You’re—oh—going to drive me insane."
He lifted his head, blue eyes locking with hers, lips swollen from where he had kissed her. "Then you’ll finally understand what you do to me," he said, his tone quiet but devastating.
Her giggle cracked into a laugh, high-pitched, nervous, happy. She was glowing—there was no other word for it. For the first time in forever, she felt so light, so alive, like nothing in the world could touch her.
So, so happy.
Her hands slid down to his chest, resting over the steady, powerful thrum of his heartbeat. His hands were still gripping her waist, thumbs brushing the sides of her stomach in circles he probably didn’t even realize he was making. He was gone—completely gone, lost in her.
And then—
She felt it.
Something shifting beneath her.
At first, she ignored it, too caught in his stare, too dizzy from the trail of his lips across her skin. But then it pressed against her more firmly, undeniable.
Her eyes widened.
Her mouth opened slightly, breath caught in her throat as realization dawned—