The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts

Isabella stepped out of the hut, the hide curtain falling shut behind her with a gentle flap. A soft breeze brushed her face, rustling a few loose strands of her hair as she adjusted the water pouch still hanging around her neck. The weight of it bounced lightly against her chest, cool and comforting. She closed the pouch's lid with a click, having just taken one last sip to quench her dry throat.

Her eyes immediately landed on Kian.

He was crouched down beside the stone slab, elbows resting on his knees, perfectly still. His eyes were on the tools arranged beside him—like a silent warrior preparing for some ancient ritual of war. No complaints. No visible emotion. Just... focused.

Her lips twitched up.

"I hope you weren't missing me too much," Isabella said with a teasing lilt in her voice as she walked up to him, tossing her hair dramatically over one shoulder. She crouched beside him with a satisfied grin.

Kian didn't even look at her.

"No, I did not miss you," he replied flatly, his tone calm, clear, and very, very serious.

The grin froze on her face.

"What?" Isabella blinked.

Kian finally turned to her, his face devoid of any mischief or playfulness. Just a blank, infuriatingly stoic look that made it hard to tell if he was being honest or just... Kian.

Isabella gasped. "You—you weren't supposed to say it."

Kian raised a brow, as if confused why truth-telling was suddenly illegal.

Isabella's lips parted in offense, her hand going to her chest like he had shot an invisible arrow straight through her self-esteem.

"Kian," she said with narrowed eyes, "sometimes it's better not to give a reply at all."

She spun slightly on her crouched heels with a little dramatic huff, crossing her arms tightly like a wronged squirrel, muttering to herself.

Kian glanced at her, lips twitching ever so slightly. And there it was—the tiniest, most irritating little smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. Like he was secretly pleased with himself for annoying her. Again.

He said nothing.

But that smug silence said everything.

Isabella peeked at him from the corner of her eye, her cheeks puffed out, face scrunched in mild frustration. Her pouty expression might've looked ridiculous if not for the faint pink blooming across her cheeks—half from the heat, half from something else she'd never admit.

"Okay," she finally snapped, clapping her hands once like a commander gathering her troops.

"So here we have…" Isabella began, with the air of a dramatic teacher about to unveil some world-shifting knowledge. Her hair was already half falling from its braid, cheeks still flushed from dragging things around earlier. Glimora was asleep on a rolled hide a few feet away, leaving Isabella completely free to unleash her full energy.

She pointed to the line of ingredients and tools arranged in front of them.

"Moonwater," she said with flair, lifting the clay bottle proudly, "collected under the full moon only. Not just regular water, no. This is moon-kissed hydration magic. It's our base."

Kian blinked once. No nod. No sound. Just that calm, unreadable expression that made Isabella want to smack his perfect face with the stirring stick.

Unfazed, she continued, grabbing a small gourd filled with a glowing blue jelly. "This? This is Glowpetal Gel. Very rare, very sparkly. Makes your hair shine like you were kissed by stardust."

Kian raised an eyebrow. "You're putting glitter in the shampoo?"

"It's not glitter. It's flower essence," Isabella replied, narrowing her eyes like he'd just insulted her entire ancestry. "Besides, you'll thank me when your hair starts glistening in the sun like some enchanted beast-god."

Kian didn't even react to that. He just watched her, completely still, arms crossed, his broad chest doing distracting things beneath the thin hide tied around his shoulders.

Isabella cleared her throat and pointed next to a thick oil that shimmered like dusk. "Ashberry oil. From enchanted berries that only grow on scorched earth. Cleanses, softens, makes your scalp feel like it's being hugged by a dream."

Kian squinted at the oil, then at her. "You dream about scalp hugs?"

"Shut up," she muttered, grabbing the next container.

"This," she held up a clay jar with milky sap inside, "is Foamroot Juice. It lathers naturally when mixed with water. Nature's soap. But unlike soap, it doesn't strip your hair."

At that, Kian tilted his head slightly. "How is shampoo different from soap?"

Isabella beamed like she'd been waiting for this moment.

"Oh, my sweet summer beastman," she said dramatically, placing a hand on her chest. "Soap is brutal. Soap is violent. It scrapes everything away — oils, life, happiness. Shampoo, on the other hand…" She leaned closer, lowering her voice like it was some sacred gospel, "Shampoo cleanses gently. It nourishes. It doesn't betray your scalp. It whispers: 'you're beautiful' while it works."

Kian gave her one long look. Just… looked. No reaction.

Isabella smiled wider, until she realized—

Oh.

He was staring at her.

Not blinking.

Not smirking.

Just... watching her in that dangerously quiet way he always did when her teasing got too bold.

She swallowed and slowly turned her gaze back to the items.

"Right. Moving on."

She quickly picked up a tiny vial and shook it gently. "This is Starlily Nectar. Smells heavenly. Leaves the hair soft and… touchable."

She didn't dare glance at Kian when she said that. Her cheeks already felt too warm.

Next, she gestured to a small bowl. "Frostleaf Powder. Just a pinch is enough to make your scalp feel cool and tingly. Plus, it soothes itchiness."

Then she pointed to the side tools. "We've got a mortar and pestle to grind the Frostleaf, wooden stick for stirring, a woven-leaf strainer to filter everything, clay bottles to store the shampoo, and this—" she patted the massive cauldron "—will be our mixing pot. Fire pit's already warm."

Kian gave a small nod, eyes dropping to each item like he was mentally sorting every step.

That caught Isabella off guard.

He wasn't just listening — he was absorbing. Like he genuinely wanted to learn. It made her pause for a second, watching him.

"You're taking this really seriously," she murmured, tilting her head.