The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 73: Correction—we did it. You were just my hands

Chapter 73: Chapter 73: Correction—we did it. You were just my hands

His lips twitched as if he wanted to argue but knew better. "Fine. What’s next?"

"Now, the tricky part," Isabella said, stretching her arms over her head, making the man’s gaze flicker—just for a second—before snapping back to her face.

He was obvious. It was almost cute. Almost. "We need to hollow out the bowl of the spoon."

He stared at her. "How?"

She grinned. "Fire."

His eyes lit up. "Now we’re talking."

Shelia, who had been watching in amused silence, scoffed. "Oh, now you’re interested? You were acting like carving wood was the worst torture known to beastmen just a minute ago."

The man shot her a flat look but ignored her, clearly too proud to admit that Isabella’s method had piqued his interest.

Ophelia hummed, tilting her head as she examined the barely formed spoon. "I still don’t get why we need this. We have hands."

Isabella gasped dramatically. "Hands?! How dare you disrespect the sacred art of utensils!" She clutched her chest like she’d just been stabbed.

"Are you telling me that you would enjoy dipping your fingers into every single meal like some uncultured beast?"

Ophelia opened her mouth. Then paused. Then closed it.

Shelia smirked. "You got her there."

"Exactly," Isabella said smugly. "Now, pay attention."

She struck a piece of flint against another, sending a spray of sparks onto a bundle of dry grass and bark shavings.

The beastman watched, his brows furrowed, clearly intrigued despite himself. Gently, she lifted the bundle, cupping it close as she blew.

The ember glowed, spreading warmth through the fibers until a thin wisp of smoke curled upward. Carefully, she placed it at the center of the wood.

She wouldn’t be doing this herself, if not that her actions gave her silent points.

The man leaned in, his tail flicking behind him as he watched the heat darken the surface, a faint glow eating into the grain. His expression was unreadable, but Isabella caught the slight tension in his jaw.

"Blow on it gently," she instructed.

He leaned in.

"Not like you’re trying to put out a fire!" she snapped as the ember nearly died.

He muttered something under his breath but blew softer this time, making the ember glow hotter.

"Good. Now, let it burn a little, then scrape away the charred wood with a sharp stone. Repeat until the bowl is deep enough."

They fell into a rhythm—burn, scrape, burn, scrape. It took patience, but the spoon slowly took shape.

By the time they were done, it was already a very hot afternoon. The man held up the spoon proudly "I did it".

Ophelia and Shelia leaned in. "That’s... actually decent," Shelia admitted, poking the spoon with a finger.

"Not bad," Ophelia said, looking mildly impressed. "I thought it would be uglier."

He huffed. "Gee, thanks."

Isabella smirked, plucking the spoon from his grasp. "Correction—we did it. You were just my hands."

He snorted. "And you were the annoying voice in my ear."

She inspected the spoon, turning it over in her hand. "Not bad for your first attempt."

He crossed his arms. "And for my second?"

Her lips curved. "You offering to make me another one?"

He shrugged, watching her with an unreadable expression. "Maybe. If you keep bossing me around."

Shelia leaned against a rock, her hair swaying lazily. "Wow, he’s enjoying this. Never thought I’d see the day a man willingly listen to a woman’s instructions"

Ophelia chuckled. "It’s because Isabella makes him feel special."

The beastman’s tail stiffened. "I am special."

Shelia smirked. "Uh-huh. You just wanna impress her."

His ears twitched. "I do not."

Ophelia nudged Shelia. "Look, his tail is moving."

"I see it," Shelia whispered.

The beastman’s tail immediately stilled, and he glared at them. "It’s hot. That’s why."

"Sure, sure," Ophelia teased.

Isabella chuckled, twirling the spoon between her fingers. "Since you worked so hard..." She dipped the spoon into a bowl of crushed berries and honey they had gathered earlier. Then, without hesitation, she fed him the first bite.

Ophelia and Shelia licked their lips, their gazes locked on the spoon as if it held the secrets of the universe.

The man’s brows shot up, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his lips closed around the spoon, his eyes locked on hers as he tasted the sweet mixture.

It was really sweet. Isabella watched as his pupils dilated slightly, his tail giving a slow, betraying flick.

"Well?" she asked.

He licked his lips slowly, savoring the taste. "Not bad."

"Not bad?" Ophelia gasped. "That’s honey and berries mixed together! It’s better than ’not bad.’"

Shelia hummed. "He’s trying to act tough."

"Obviously," Ophelia agreed.

The beastman cleared his throat, pretending not to hear them. "So... now what?" He asked sternly, making him look kinda cute.

Isabella leaned back. "How do you feel about making five more normal spoons and three more big ones?"

His groan echoed through the trees, but the small smile on his lips didn’t go unnoticed.

And just like that, Isabella had turned a barbarian into a craftsman.

Shelia folded her arms. "So... are we all ignoring the fact that he was totally affected by her?"

Ophelia nodded. "Yup. His tail gave him away."

The beastman scowled. "It’s hot. My tail moves when I’m hot."

Isabella smirked. "Right. And the way your pupils dilated?"

He stiffened. "That was—" He stopped himself, then huffed. "That was because of the honey."

Ophelia gasped. "Did you just admit to liking something civilized?"

Shelia clutched her chest. "Next thing we know, he’ll be wearing shoes and drinking from a cup." (Isabella is teaching them too much behind close doors)

The beastman groaned, rubbing his temples. "I regret everything."

Isabella grinned. "Oh no, you don’t. Now, get started on those spoons. I have big plans."

"Like what?" Shelia asked.

"Like turning this entire village into a proper civilization? How many time will I tell you girls?!" Isabella declared dramatically. "Spoons are just the beginning."

The beastman muttered something under his breath, but as he picked up another piece of wood, he didn’t argue.

And just like that, Isabella had won.

Again.