Isabella shoved aside the last curtain of pale, silky materials with the kind of force that promised violence. Her jaw was tight, her brow was twitching, and her soul was vibrating with fury.
She did not care that the place behind the materials looked darker than before.
She did not care that the air felt heavier.
She did not care that the dark hour was creeping closer and she needed to get back to the lagoon before everything on this mountain woke up hungry.
All she cared about was one thing.
Finding that idiot wingless bird and beating him with her fan.
And she cursed him with every slow step she took.
In her mind.
Because being pregnant made everything ten times more dramatic.
