Chapter 361: Chapter 361: Five more seconds, then let me stand
"Kian, please let me go," Isabella said, low and urgent, fingers already prying at the iron band of his arm. When that didn’t work, she went petty—pinch. Right at the sensitive spot above his wrist.
Nothing.
He didn’t even flinch. He just stared down at her with that blank, carved-from-stone face, the one that made enemy chiefs rethink their life choices. Not even a twitch. Which somehow made her more frustrated. Unbelievable. To outsiders, he really was the cold lion king with no emotions, the man who could sit through a screaming storm and call it "weather." But once he got comfortable? Oh, he could be annoying without even trying. The audacity of being cozy and stubborn at the same time.
Footsteps were getting closer in the hall—two sets, not in a rush but absolutely approaching. She could feel the scene about to become public disaster. Kian finally spoke, voice calm like a lake that had swallowed a village. "Why do you want to get up when people are only here?" he asked. "Why did you not try getting up thirty minutes ago?"
Luca gasped so loudly the door frame jumped. He leaned toward Ophelia and stage-whispered, "They’ve been like this for over thirty minutes?"
"Shhh," Ophelia hissed, finger to her lips, eyes wide, already trying to smother him with pure will.
Isabella shot Luca a glare so sharp he flinched back like she’d thrown it. Message received: shut up your stupid mouth. Luca shrugged helplessly and stared at the ceiling like maybe the gods would adopt him mid-sentence.
Isabella snapped her head back to Kian. "That does not matter. And stop saying things like that. It is embarrassing," she bit out, cheeks igniting. She couldn’t believe this man—no filter, no shame, just truth bombs everywhere like the floor needed more holes.
Kian blinked at her, genuinely confused, which only made it worse. He really, truly did not understand why she only wanted to get up now that people were near. Where he was from—and honestly, even here—people didn’t make affection a secret crime. A man kept his woman close; a woman let him. The palace didn’t gasp at hugs. The walls were used to it. He looked at Isabella and said, slow and honest, "If you really wanted to be my woman, why would you be embarrassed—"
"No. No, don’t say that," Isabella cut him off, panic sparking as her eyes flicked to Luca and Ophelia. She could feel the red in her face traveling to her ears. Vanish me, ground. Right now. "I never said I wanted to be your woman."
"So you don’t want to be my woman," Kian returned, just as steady.
"I never said I wanted to be your woman today," Isabella snapped, grasping for logic that did not help, because—
Luca gasped again, hands flying to his mouth. "So she has been saying she wanted to be his woman," he concluded like a man solving ancient puzzles.
"Luca." Ophelia’s hand smacked his bicep. "Please."
Ophelia, in her most painfully innocent way—bless her—added softly, "I mean, it is kind of obvious. She always gives him... seductive gazes."
Isabella and Glimora gasped at the exact same time. In stereo. Betrayal, betrayal, betrayal. Isabella’s eyes swung to Ophelia, full of et tu, cinnamon bun? Glimora planted both legs on Isabella’s thigh and leaned forward to squint suspiciously at Ophelia like, name one seductive gaze, go on.
But there was no time to throw loyalty trials because the whistling started. A light tune in the corridor, then a hum, smug and happy. Zyran. Of course.
"Perfect," Isabella muttered, deflating. She glanced at the door, then at Kian’s arm—which was still not moving—and accepted defeat like a queen. She let out a long sigh and settled, cheeks puffed out, lips pinched, back melting into his chest with aggressive compliance. It wasn’t like she wasn’t enjoying it. She just wasn’t ready to be seen enjoying it. Blame the leftover modern blood in her; blame the part of her that hoarded soft things in private where no one could stain them.
And—fine—another quiet piece of her didn’t love the idea of Cyrus walking in and finding her glued to Kian like this. She didn’t know why that specific thought jabbed her ribs, but it did. She pushed it aside, crossed her arms like a shield, and rested harder against Kian’s warmth in petty protest. Glimora mirrored her exactly—small arms folded, chin up, tail writing offended letters in the air.
"Stop copying me," Isabella whispered.
Glimora refused.
Kian looked down at the double pout and, traitor that he was, looked entirely content. His hand flattened over Isabella’s waist, thumb idly tracing the curve there as if staking claims came built-in with breathing. The window’s light stretched long across the floor, cutting the space in two: on one side, the doorway where chaos was approaching; on the other, the warm nest of lion, woman, and beast, crowded together like a secret daring the world to knock.
"Five more seconds, then let me stand," Isabella bargained under her breath.
"No," Kian said, utterly polite.
She pinched him again. It was like pinching a stone statue—handsome, warm, uncooperative.
Ophelia hovered three steps inside the room, clutching empty air now that the bracelet had moved safely to Isabella’s wrist. She looked like she wanted to clap at the adorable tableau and also vanish into smoke because this was a lot. Luca, taller than the door by a hand, shifted from foot to foot, hovering near the threshold like a guard who’d stumbled into a play. His eyes kept skittering from Kian’s arm to Isabella’s pink ears and then to the hall like his brain had opened three tabs and all of them were buffering.
The whistling drew closer—then stopped abruptly, like someone had put a finger to Zyran’s lips. A quiet beat. Then the soft hiss of cloth against stone, the tiniest scrape of a boot toe on the threshold. The air changed temperature; even the dust motes decided to hang in suspense like theater confetti that never fell.
The footsteps reached the threshold. Shadows stacked. The tune Zyran had been humming dissolved into a pleased hum that meant I am about to be annoying on purpose. The other presence—Cyrus—stayed quiet, steady, a cool ribbon through the room’s heat.
Isabella inhaled. The world funneled to that doorway.
Kian only stared at her and smiled contentedly and that was when the two figures appeared at the doorway.