The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts Chapter 747: So I am carrying little demon snake babies, and

His voice beca even quieter now, and the firelight made his red hair look darker. "I know what people called when I was young. I know what they whispered. I know my blood was useful to my master, and I know my mother tried to hide things from before she died. But I do not know what kind of demon blood it is. I do not know what I truly am."

Isabella listened.

This ti, she did not interrupt.

Cyrus’s fingers pressed against his own palm as he continued, "I only knew that it was strong. Too strong sotis. I learned how to suppress it because if I did not, people would notice. Later, when you beca pregnant, I sensed it in the hatchlings."

His voice shook at the last word.

"Your body is different from ours," he said. "You are strong, but not in the sa way a demon is strong. The children have my snake blood, and they also carry that demonic part of . As they grew, their blood began pressing against yours. That is why you feel heat sotis. That is why your head hurts. That is why your stomach tightens strangely. Your body is trying to hold sothing it was never prepared to hold."

Isabella placed her hand on her stomach without realizing it.

The babies were quiet for now, but now that she knew the truth, even their stillness felt different.

"What happens if it is not suppressed?" she asked.

Cyrus closed his eyes for one second.

That alone told her she would not like the answer.

"Your body may grow weaker," he said. "The heat may rise. The pain may get worse. The birth may co too quickly or too violently. The hatchlings may be fine, but you..."

He stopped.

Isabella’s eyes narrowed. "But ?"

Cyrus opened his eyes and looked at her.

His pink eyes were full of pain now.

"You could die."

The words landed softly.

Too softly.

Still, Isabella felt them like a stone dropped into water.

For one breath, neither of them spoke.

Then Isabella looked away and let out a small laugh that had no humor in it. "Great. Wonderful. Beautiful. So I am carrying little demon snake babies, and my sweet snake husband decided to play doctor in secret."

Cyrus looked miserable. "I was trying to protect you."

"I know."

That made him pause.

Isabella looked back at him, and this ti her anger was still there, but it had changed shape. It was no longer only sharp. It had fear under it now too.

"I know you were trying to protect ," she said. "That is why I have not thrown sothing at your face yet."

Cyrus blinked.

Then, despite the situation, his mouth moved a little.

Isabella pointed at him imdiately. "Do not smile."

He lowered his eyes. "I am not."

"You almost did."

"I was relieved."

"Relieved that I did not throw sothing?"

"Yes."

She stared at him.

Then she clicked her tongue and looked away again, but the anger in her chest loosened slightly despite herself.

Cyrus reached for her hand again, very slowly this ti, giving her enough ti to pull away if she wanted to.

She did not.

So he held it gently.

"I should have told you," he said.

"Yes, you should have."

"I was afraid."

Those three words made Isabella go quiet.

Cyrus was not a man who admitted fear easily. Not in that direct way. He could be gentle, yes. Sweet, yes. Attentive to the point of insanity, yes. But fear was sothing else. Fear ant the wound was deeper than his calm face usually showed.

He looked down at their joined hands.

"I was afraid you would look at differently," he said. "I was afraid you would think the children were dangerous. I was afraid you would hate this part of before I even understood it myself."

Isabella’s heart pinched.

Damn it.

She was still mad.

She really was.

But he had to go and say sothing pitiful like that with his soft voice and sad eyes.

So unfair.

"So you decided to hide it and make look like the unreasonable one when I found out?" she asked.

Cyrus shook his head quickly. "No."

"That is what happened."

"I know."

"Good."

He lowered his head even more. "I am sorry."

For a while, Isabella said nothing.

The fire popped softly beside them.

Outside, the snow kept falling.

Then she sighed and squeezed his fingers once.

"I do not hate you," she said.

Cyrus looked up at once.

"I am still mad," she added quickly. "Do not look happy too fast."

His expression softened anyway.

Too late.

He looked happy.

Not fully, but enough.

Isabella rolled her eyes. "You are so easy."

"With you, yes," he said.

That answer made her pause.

Then her face ward slightly, and because she did not want him to see that he had managed to make her blush while she was still scolding him, she turned her face away.

"Shaless," she muttered.

Cyrus leaned closer. "I learned from Zyran."

Isabella looked back at him in shock. "Do not say sothing so terrible about yourself."

This ti, Cyrus actually smiled.

A small one.

Soft.

Careful.

Still guilty, but warr now.

Isabella tried to hold her anger longer, but it beca harder when he looked at her like that. He looked so relieved that she had not pulled away from him, so grateful that she was still holding his hand, and so full of love that it almost annoyed her.

Because how was she supposed to stay mad properly when he looked like a kicked animal who also happened to be very handso?

She sighed again. "I need you to tell things from now on."

"I will."

"No hiding things in my food."

Cyrus hesitated for half a second.

Isabella’s eyes sharpened. "Cyrus."

He imdiately said, "I will explain what I put in your food."

"That is not the sa as no hiding things."

"I need to keep suppressing it."

"I know."

"You do?"

She gave him a look. "I am angry, not stupid."

He lowered his head. "I know."

"And I will eat what I need to eat," she said. "But you tell . Do you understand?"

Cyrus nodded. "I understand."

"Good."

For one small mont, it felt like the worst of the conversation had passed.

Then Isabella shifted slightly.

A strange discomfort moved through her lower stomach.

At first, she thought it was only the sa heavy pressure from earlier. She had been feeling strange all day, after all. But this one was different. It pulled low and tight, and it made her fingers tighten around Cyrus’s hand before she even realized what she was doing.

Cyrus noticed imdiately.

His smile vanished.

"Isabella?"

She frowned and placed her other hand on her stomach. "Wait."

The pressure grew.

It ca like a slow wave, not sharp enough to make her scream, but strong enough that her breathing changed. Her body stiffened, and the warm room suddenly felt too hot.

Cyrus moved closer at once.

"What do you feel?"

"I don’t know," she said, but her voice ca out thinner than she wanted. "It feels... tight."

His eyes dropped to her stomach.

Then he placed his palm there carefully, spreading his fingers over the heavy curve. For a few breaths, he did not speak. He only felt. His snake senses moved through her warmth, through the children, through the blood he had been trying so hard to suppress, and through the strange rhythm beginning inside her body.

His face changed.

Isabella saw it.

Her heart jumped.

"What?" she asked.

Cyrus did not answer quickly enough.

The pressure eased for one breath, then returned again, stronger this ti.

Isabella sucked in a breath and gripped his hand harder.

Cyrus’s pink eyes lifted to her face, and the fear in them was no longer hidden.

"Cyrus," she said carefully, "what is it?"

His throat moved.

Then his voice ca out low, tense, and full of a terror he could not cover anymore.

"Isabella... it may be starting."