CHAPTER 222: CHAPTER 223: ARE YOU MATING WITH HIM?

Zyran’s body moved with a still grace as he turned his head, the moonlight catching in his crimson eyes like twin flames. His gaze zeroed in on the figure emerging from the trees—Cyrus.

The air changed instantly.

Gone was the heat and haze of his touch on Isabella’s skin. In its place, a new tension unfurled. Sharp. Electric. Primal.

Zyran didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. But something in him shifted. His posture relaxed, a smirk still playing on his lips, but his stare? Lethal. His red eyes locked with the pale pink ones of the intruder like two ancient forces facing off.

Isabella blinked, the trance Zyran had put her in finally cracking. She turned slowly, her heart thudding against her ribs. She didn’t have to see his face to know who it was. That voice, calm yet commanding, had called her name like a tether, grounding her instantly.

Her lips parted—she meant to say something, anything—but she barely got out a startled, "Oh—" before everything spun.

Without warning, a strong, sinuous tail coiled around her waist and yanked her away from Zyran.

Wind rushed past her ears.

And then she landed—hard but not painfully—against Cyrus’ chest. Her body sagged into him like a puppet with snipped strings.

Everything was spinning.

Was she still dizzy from Zyran’s touch, or from being flung through the air like a stolen treasure?

Either way, the solid warmth of Cyrus’ tail curled around her legs, holding her upright like a blanket and a leash all at once.

She blinked rapidly, her blue eyes slowly adjusting as she tilted her face upward.

Cyrus.

Red hair wild in the breeze, those impossibly long lashes casting shadows under his pink eyes, now wide with concern.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

His voice was soft. Too soft. It made her heart twist unexpectedly.

The worry on his face unsettled her, especially because she didn’t deserve it. Not after the way her body had just betrayed her.

His hand came to the back of her head, guiding her closer into the hollow of his chest. She could feel his heartbeat. Fast. Hard.

Her fingers, small and trembling, rested against his chest. She gave him a weak smile, lips barely curved. It was all she could manage.

A part of her—traitorous and shameful—missed the warmth of Zyran’s hands. Missed the teasing tilt of his smile, the heat of his breath ghosting over her skin like firelight, the raw, unfiltered want in his gaze that made her feel stripped bare and worshipped all at once. It was maddening. Wrong. Dangerous. But the way he looked at her—like she was the answer to a hunger he’d starved through lifetimes—had carved a place inside her that throbbed in his absence.

No. No, she wasn’t going to admit that.

Not now. Not ever.

Her brows pulled together in frustration, and she turned slightly, casting a sly side-eye back at the bastard still lounging against the tree.

And there he was. Zyran. As shameless as ever, grinning like he hadn’t just had his hand on her body. When their eyes met, he winked.

Winked.

Her head whipped around so fast she smacked right into Cyrus’ bare chest with an audible thud. Her nose brushed warm skin—smooth, firm, and faintly scented with something wild and clean, like rain on dry earth.

She groaned under her breath, the heat of him seeping into her skin through every inch of contact. "Why are hot men everywhere?" she muttered, her lips accidentally brushing his chest as she spoke.

And of course, because the universe hated her, the moment was far too intimate.

Cyrus’ breath hitched just slightly, the muscles in his chest twitching beneath her mouth. His tail didn’t loosen—it wrapped tighter, almost protectively. Almost possessively.

Mortified, Isabella squeezed her eyes shut.

Could the ground just swallow her whole already?

She tried to push him away, tried to compose herself, but her knees buckled. Her body was still trembling from the aftermath of... whatever that was.

Cyrus held her easily, tail adjusting, curling tighter, his expression darkening.

And not just with concern.

No, now something else glinted in his eyes—something sharper. Possessive.

He didn’t miss the way she shivered. The way her body was too warm. He inhaled, his beast senses catching what her lips wouldn’t admit.

She was aroused.

Still deep in heat.

And it wasn’t his scent she was soaked in.

His eyes lifted, his face hardening as he stared past Isabella. Right at Zyran.

The night wind stirred between them, brushing his long red hair around his face. But his gaze didn’t waver.

He already suspected.

Cyrus didn’t speak for a moment. His jaw clenched.

Then his voice came low, almost too calm.

"Isabella. Did he hurt you?"

She jerked her head up immediately, panic fluttering in her chest. Her eyes widened, and she shook her head far too quickly.

"No. No," she said, waving her hands slightly even though they were still pressed to his chest. Her voice came out small—so much smaller than she intended.

Gods, she was defending him now? Ugh. She wanted to dig a hole and bury herself in it.

But the last thing she needed was bloodshed. Or worse, two stupidly hot men fighting over her like she was some kind of exotic fruit.

"I— I know him," she added, her voice steadier this time. Barely.

Cyrus blinked, surprise flickering behind his serious expression. His grip on her waist relaxed just slightly.

He nodded once, the gesture brief. Tense.

From behind them, Zyran chuckled, arms crossed over his chest like he owned the world.

"That’s right, wifey," he said, grinning now, voice ringing loud and proud through the moonlight. "Tell him who your man is."

Isabella froze.

She didn’t dare turn around. She could feel his grin through the back of her head.

Gods, he was so full of himself.

She could already imagine that ridiculous look on his face. The one that screamed: Yeah, she wants me.

She wanted to scream.

Or maybe cry.

Or maybe kiss that stupid perfect mouth of his just to shut him up—

No! What the hell was wrong with her?

She clenched her jaw, cursing herself in seven different languages. She was a strong woman. Smart. Controlled.

So why was her body betraying her like this?

And then she missed something—something important.

A flicker. A twitch in Cyrus’ expression. So fast it barely registered before his voice brought her crashing back into the moment.

"Are you..." he hesitated. "Are you mating with him?"

His voice was quiet.

Too quiet.

It didn’t match the wild storm brewing in his gaze as it pierced through her.

Isabella’s lungs stalled.

Everything went still.

Even the wind paused.

Her eyes snapped up to meet his—and her lips parted to answer, but—