The Villainess Winning Back Her Beast Husbands-Chapter 60: Leaving You to Incubate the Eggs

Though Thorne had lost his Beast Crystal, shortening his lifespan, he still possessed the immense strength befitting a Beastman.

On the way back to the Grymdale Tribe, Evangeline lay on Thorne’s back, her arms wrapped around his neck. He carried her with such stability that even as he bounded and leaped, his stride remained perfectly smooth.

She looked down at the hard, sharp lines of his cheek, his brow set in its usual fierce expression.

Evangeline’s eyes crinkled in a smile. She leaned forward, her soft lips gently brushing against his tense cheek.

Thorne’s breath hitched almost imperceptibly, but his pace never faltered. A faint blush quietly crept up the tips of his ears.

Evangeline asked softly, "Are you in a hurry to leave the Grymdale Tribe?"

Her warm breath tickled his ear, making Thorne all the more flustered. He had never been this close to a female.

He pursed his lips and turned his head slightly. "It doesn’t matter whether we’re in the Grymdale Tribe or not. The rainy season is about to start. Maybe staying in the tribe is the better choice."

"For my sake?" Evangeline tilted her head, her voice low.

"The rainy season is dangerous. There are endless downpours, the rivers flood, and poisonous miasmas fill the air. Beastmen have to stock up on food and hunker down to survive. Some tribes even suffer from plagues that wipe out their entire clan."

As he spoke, Thorne’s dark green eyes locked onto Evangeline, his brows knitting with solemnity.

"The most dangerous part is the Wild Beasts, driven to desperation by hunger."

"They have no intelligence. When they’re starving, they’ll even eat their own young."

"In past rainy seasons, hordes of Wild Beasts have emerged, wiping out many tribes."

Thorne watched Evangeline. She met his gaze with clear, bright eyes, showing no fear or hesitation. It was as if the perilous rainy season he described was nothing more to her than a passing cloud or a gust of wind—utterly insignificant.

’She’s not afraid.’

The realization left Thorne feeling a little helpless.

He had a vague sense that Flora was a stranger to everything on the Beastman Continent, including Thorncliff and the rainy season. It was as if she wasn’t a female from Norfell, as if she didn’t belong here at all.

Thorne’s throat tightened, his fingertips clenching unconsciously. "Flora, where are you from?" he asked.

"I’m a wanderer. I go everywhere, so I can’t really answer where I’m from. Thorne, will you hold that against me?" Evangeline blinked, her gaze fixed on him.

"Never!" Thorne answered instinctively.

He murmured, "I’m just afraid that one day, you’ll leave this place."

As he spoke, his eyes began to sting, and an ache spread through his chest, tight and painful, as if he’d been punched.

A smile blossomed in Evangeline’s eyes. "I still have to have cubs with you, you know. I’m not leaving."

At the mention of "cubs," Thorne’s pace faltered slightly. He didn’t ask about what had happened at the bottom of Thorncliff.

His throat moved, and his voice was low, carrying a sort of awkward tenderness. "Snake Clan cubs are hatched from eggs."

As he spoke, the Contract Mark on his neck grew faintly hot. He deliberately ignored it. His long, curled lashes fluttered as he continued with a straight face, "The eggs are very small. It won’t be too hard on you."

After a pause, he quickly added, "We can hatch several clutches."

Evangeline looked at Thorne in surprise. Who knew that the proudest, most untamable, cold-blooded of Beastmen could say such sweet things.

"Of course," Evangeline said, her eyes curving into crescents.

She agreed without a second thought; her only goal was to coax a pleased smile out of him.

Then, Evangeline nuzzled the back of his neck, her voice a playful drawl. "I heard that incubating the eggs is the male’s job, right? So I’ll leave all the egg-sitting to you—"

Thorne’s body went rigid, his breathing thrown into disarray.

After a moment, the corner of his mouth quirked into a smile, his dark green eyes a mix of his usual coldness and a newfound tenderness.

He knew that with his Beast Crystal torn out, recovery was nearly impossible. He might never have cubs in his lifetime. But hearing her say these things still filled him with joy. This life was his salvation, everything he had ever dreamed of.

Thorne adjusted his grip on Evangeline, settling her more securely on his back.

The night wind rustled his pale hair. The place in his chest where his Beast Crystal used to be should have been a source of excruciating pain. But with the gentle warmth seeping through from his back, the void felt full again, and the pain subsided.

*

The entire way, Elias Moretti cleared the path ahead.

His crimson body slithered forward, his Six-star Beastman aura intimidating the surrounding Wild Beasts.

But every so often, he would glance back at Thorne and Evangeline, the cold, sinister look in his eyes growing ever deeper.

"GACK—"

A weak retching sound broke the silence of the woods.

Elias Moretti turned his head in annoyance, his cold, slitted pupils glancing at the female coiled in his tail—Cecilia West.

She had been forced into that position for the entire journey, jolted and swayed with his every serpentine movement. The fact that she had managed to hold back from vomiting until now was a testament to her endurance.

Cecilia West’s face was pale, her fingers clutching his scales so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.

A flicker of irritation crossed Elias Moretti’s eyes.

"Hold it in," he said, his low voice carrying an undeniable command. "We’re almost there."

"Elias Moretti..." the black bear beside him began, his tone disapproving.

It was Gable in his beast form. He was carrying the still-unconscious Lana and Melora Moretti on his back.

"Once we’re back in the Grymdale Tribe and the matter of the Viper Saliva is settled, you need to become the leader. I know you have to form a Contract with a female of the Snake Clan, but the cub in Cecilia West’s womb is important too. Do you understand?"

According to tribal history, a cub’s innate talent was often a reflection of its father’s strength.

It didn’t matter who gave birth to the cub; as long as it was talented—or even better, a precious female cub—it was an honor for the tribe. Take Thorne, for example. He was just the result of Morgan Moretti’s affair with another female, yet he was born so powerful that he threatened Elias Moretti’s claim to leadership. Before Evangeline appeared, Elias had to keep a low profile to avoid clashing with him.

"This Flora’s methods are bizarre. No one knows if she can actually heal Thorne."

"If Thorne’s Beast Crystal is restored and his power returns... Elias Moretti, is that something you want to witness?"

"This is a critical opportunity. The moment we return to the Grymdale Tribe, you must become the leader!"

"..."

Gable rambled on, and Elias Moretti’s crimson Beast Eyes filled with displeasure.

He said grimly, "Thorne has already said he never cared about the leadership position."

’If I still rush to become leader now, it’ll look like I’m snatching up something someone else threw away.’

"Foolish!" Gable snapped.

"You saw it yourself. That Flora is a Witch with unfathomable methods, and she clearly values Thorne. If she actually manages to restore his power, Elias Moretti, do you really think a man as brazen as Thorne would be content to live in someone else’s shadow forever?"

"Even if he scorns the title of leader, once his power is fully restored, who in the entire Grymdale Tribe could defy his will? Don’t you forget how the tribe used to fawn over him!"

"It’s better for you to solidify your own position now than to wait for him to passively take power!"

"Someone has to take the seat of leader of the Grymdale Tribe!"

Elias Moretti listened to Gable, then glanced back at Thorne, whose expression was soft as he carried Evangeline. Elias suddenly sneered, his voice sharp and laced with venom. "He’s ready to father a child from a sullied bloodline. On what grounds could Thorne possibly vie for power?"

Hearing this, Gable gave Elias Moretti a complicated look.

’Oh, so *now* you admit it’s a sullied bloodline? I wonder who it was just now fighting over it, insisting on raising this very child of sullied blood himself. Foolish! Utterly foolish!’