CHAPTER 344: CHAPTER 344: WELL YES. YES, KIAN

Glimora sensed it first. Her tiny ears flicked as though the air itself shifted, carrying something too heavy, too sharp, to be ignored. The mythical white beast blinked up, squinting those bright blue eyes between Kian and Isabella. Her gaze lingered, narrowed, suspicious.

And then—slowly, deliberately—she slid off Isabella’s lap. It was a tiny motion, claws barely scratching against the stone floor as she padded away, but it carried the weight of instinct. Almost like her little mind whispered that whatever was about to happen, she did not want to be in the middle of it.

Isabella noticed, but her eyes... her eyes didn’t waver. Still locked on Kian’s. Her breath rose and fell, shallow, her chest tightening at the intensity of his stare. She could almost hear her pulse in her ears.

And then—like the absolute menace she was—her lips curled into a smile. A slow, dangerous smile.

"How many babies do you want, Kian?"

The silence cracked.

Kian’s composure—his ever-perfect, cold, untouchable composure—finally flattered for the day. His jaw ticked, his lips twitched, and then, damn him, he smiled. Not his usual thin, polite smile. A real one. One that softened his sharp features in the most devastating way.

A low scoff escaped him, rough, half-laugh, half-breath. He looked down, almost as if he needed the ground to steady himself before speaking. When he finally did, his voice was molten steel.

"Isabella."

Just her name. Deep. Dark. Seductive enough to make her stomach flip.

And oh, she knew that tone. That warning. That dangerous pull of his voice when he was about to snap. But instead of shutting her up like it should have, it only made her grin wider.

"No, really, really, Kian..." Her tone dropped, teasing, daring. "Sometimes you make me just want to spread my legs wide open for you."

His breath caught. It was subtle, but she saw it—his chest stilled mid-rise, his nostrils flared just faintly, and his eyes... gods, his eyes flashed with something raw, something scorching.

For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t say anything. That maybe she’d actually broken the unbreakable man.

Then he lifted his gaze.

And she froze.

Because those icy blue eyes weren’t icy anymore. They were burning, alive with a storm of hunger and restraint, of desire and fury tangled in one impossible knot.

"If you repeat that again..." His voice cracked through the silence like a blade dragging across stone. "...I will claim you. Right here. Right now."

The words hit her like lightning. Her throat tightened, and for the first time since waking up, Isabella’s playful bravado faltered. She swallowed hard, her lips parting with no sound escaping, her cheeks flaming crimson.

Still, she managed to croak out, "Okay. But then you call me crazy when you’re built like this. Everything about you, papi, makes me want more."

The nickname slipped out before she could catch it, and immediately her hands flew up to cover her face. "Oh, gods, I did not just—"

But she did. And Kian heard every syllable.

His expression didn’t soften—if anything, the edges sharpened. His stare dragged over her face, her flushed cheeks, the nervous way she peeked out from behind her fingers. His lips parted, then pressed tight, as though he was holding back a thousand things at once.

"You..." she rambled quickly, flustered, trying to fill the silence. "You’re just—ugh—you’re so... annoying! Why do you have to look like that? With your stupid perfect face, and your stupid strong hands, and your stupid..."

Her words dissolved into incoherence as she waved her hands around like a madwoman.

Kian didn’t move. He just watched, unblinking, like a predator letting his prey flail. The weight of his gaze made her rant spiral even faster, words spilling without thought, each one digging her grave deeper.

Until finally—he leaned forward, ever so slightly.

"Isabella."

Her name again.

Her breath hitched.

His voice dropped, guttural, impossible to mistake. "Do you want to be fucked?"

The world shattered into silence.

Isabella’s eyes went wide, her entire body frozen, heat racing from her chest to her ears. Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard she thought it might burst out.

For a moment, silence blanketed the room. Isabella’s lips parted, but no sound came out—her brain doing backflips as if debating whether she’d misheard him.

Kian had said it so clearly. So seriously.

"Do you want to be fucked?"

His voice was still low, deep, dangerous. It wasn’t playful. It wasn’t Zyran’s shameless teasing. No. This was raw, controlled heat laced with warning.

Her throat bobbed with a swallow, but then... of course she broke the silence.

"Well—" her voice came out squeaky, then she cleared her throat, tossing her hair back like she wasn’t crumbling inside. "Well yes. Yes, Kian. I want to be fucked so hard by you—so hard, till I can’t walk anymore."

Her own words shocked her, but she didn’t stop. No, Isabella never stopped when she should.

She clasped her hands dramatically against her chest, swaying side to side with exaggerated longing as if she were delivering a monologue in front of a stage full of spectators. "Yes, Kian. I want you to pin me against the wall, lift me with those annoyingly perfect arms of yours, and make me scream so loud the whole damn village thinks I’m being sacrificed."

Glimora, curled on the floor, let out the tiniest confused whimper like what the hell is going on now?

But Isabella wasn’t done.

She leaned forward, lowering her voice to something sultry, though her eyes still sparkled with playful mischief. "Or maybe throw me over your shoulder, carry me to the bed like I’m your prey, and just... ruin me. Completely. I want positions, Kian. All of them. Legs over your shoulders, bent across the furs, hell, even on the floor if you want—just—" she waved her arms like a madwoman, "—take your pick, papi!"

The moment the word papi left her lips again, her cheeks turned pink, but she covered it with a laugh that was just a little too high-pitched.

Kian... did not laugh.

His eyes darkened. Each word that fell from her mouth dragged him deeper, and she could see it. His shoulders stiffened, his hands flexed at his sides like he was holding himself back.

Her heart thudded wildly, but her dramatic mouth kept going. "I want it until I’m begging you to stop, until I can’t even stand straight the next day, until—"

And that was when it happened.

A groan.

Low, guttural, torn straight from Kian’s chest.

The sound alone silenced her ramble, stealing the air from her lungs. Her body froze, eyes wide as the realization hit: this wasn’t funny anymore. This wasn’t a game.

Kian’s composure cracked.

The corners of his lips twitched downward, his eyes—normally bright, piercing blue—were now drowning in black, his pupils blown wide with unrestrained hunger. Slowly, very slowly, he moved forward.

And before she could back away, his hand slid around her wrist, tugging her closer.

Her breath hitched, stuck in her throat, her dramatic speeches shriveling up in an instant.

This close, she could feel his warmth, the steady thrum of restrained power beneath his calm exterior. Her pulse hammered so hard she thought even Glimora could hear it.

And then his gaze locked onto hers. No trace of coldness now. Just intensity. Pure, dangerous, unshakable intensity.

Her lips parted, words scrambling on her tongue, but nothing came out.

She’d gone too far.

And for the first time in a long time, Isabella—the actress, the loudmouth, the shamelessly dramatic menace—was speechless.