Taming the Beast World with a Frying Pan-Chapter 29: Sticky Fingers and Sweet Gold

"Pants," Ren said, pointing the spatula at Syris. "Non-negotiable."

Syris stood in the center of the Nest, glistening with new scales and looking like a deity of sin. He sighed, a sound that rumbled deep in his chest.

"You are obsessed with covering things," Syris complained. "First the red bubble coat. Now my legs. Do you fear the sight of a King?"

"I fear health code violations, Syris. I am about to cook batter. I don’t need... that... swinging around near the food."

Syris rolled his amethyst eyes, but he walked to a chest and pulled out a strip of black silk. He wrapped it around his waist. It was translucent, sheer, and honestly hid nothing, but it was technically fabric.

"Acceptable?" Syris asked, striking a pose.

Ren rubbed her temples. "It’ll have to do. Let’s go."

The Kitchen

The walk to the Feeding Room was a parade. Ren marched in front, clutching her sack of "White-Stalk Dust" (flour) and the jar of "Sweet-Gold" (honey). Syris glided behind her, looking imperious. Viper brought up the rear, carefully balancing a clutch of large, blue waterfowl eggs.

When they entered the kitchen, the mood shifted instantly.

Lyssa was there. She was scrubbing a stone slab with a rough sponge, her movements angry and jerky. When she saw Syris enter—clothed, healthy, and glowing—her eyes widened with hunger. But when she saw Ren leading him, the hunger turned to venom.

"King," Lyssa hissed, bowing low so her cleavage was prominent. "You honor the slaughter room. Shall I prepare a fresh rat?"

"No," Syris said dismissively, stepping past her to sit on a clean stone ledge. He patted his lap, looking at Ren. "We are having... Hot Flat Cakes."

"Pancakes," Ren corrected. She set her station up. "Viper, eggs."

Viper handed over the eggs. Ren cracked them into the clay bowl.

Crack. Splat.

Lyssa gagged dramatically. "Ugh! The slime of the bird! You feed the King the waste of a Quacker?"

"It’s protein, Lyssa." Ren whisked the eggs with two chopsticks. She added water since there was no milk available, a pinch of salt, and the flour.

She stirred. The mixture turned into a thick, creamy batter.

"It looks like mud," Lyssa sneered, stepping closer. "Pale, sticky mud. Is this Mammal food? No wonder you are so soft."

Ren ignored her. She heated her pan over the fire. She added a small lump of the leftover duck fat to grease it.

Sizzle.

She poured a ladle of batter onto the hot iron.

The magic happened.

The batter bubbled. It rose. It turned a beautiful golden brown. The smell of toasted grain and fat filled the damp, fishy room. It smelled like Sunday morning.

Even Lyssa paused, her nose twitching.

Ren flipped it. Flap. Perfect circle.

"Done," Ren announced. She made a stack of five.

Then came the finishing touch.

She opened the jar of honey.

The scent of wildflowers and sugar hit the air. In the damp swamp, where everything smelled of rot, the scent of pure sugar was overwhelming.

Lyssa gasped. "The Sweet Gold! That is for the Royal Molt! It is sacred!"

"It’s a topping," Ren said, drizzling the amber liquid over the stack. It flowed slowly, glinting in the moss-light.

She walked over to Syris.

"Breakfast is served."

Syris looked at the stack. To him, it looked like soft, golden stones covered in tree sap.

"Feed me," Syris ordered, opening his mouth.

"You have hands, Syris."

"My hands are busy." He reached out and grabbed her waist, pulling her between his spread knees. He rested his hands on her hips, trapping her. "Feed. Me."

Ren sighed, tore off a piece of the pancake, swirled it in the honey, and placed it in his mouth.

Syris chewed.

His eyes closed.

The texture was soft, spongy, and warm. But the taste...

Sweet. So incredibly sweet.

Beastmen rarely ate sweet things. Fruit was sour. Meat was savory. Honey was rare and usually eaten medicinally. This pure sugar shock went straight to his brain.

"Mmm..." Syris hummed, a vibration that Ren felt against her stomach.

He swallowed and immediately opened his mouth again. "More. The sticky part."

Ren fed him another piece. And another.

Lyssa watched, her hands clenching into fists. She saw the way Syris looked at Ren—not with the cold indifference he showed the harem, but with focus.

Obsession.

"King," Lyssa interrupted, her voice trembling. "Does it not... clog the throat? It looks dry."

Syris ignored her. He licked a drop of honey from his lip.

Then, disaster struck.

A glob of honey dripped from the pancake Ren was holding. It landed right on Syris’ chest, sliding down his pale, defined pectorals toward the sheer silk fabric at his waist.

"Oops," Ren grimaced. "Sorry. Sticky spill."

Syris looked down at the honey trail on his chest. Then he looked at Ren.

"Clean it," Syris whispered.

The room went silent. Viper looked at the ceiling. Lyssa looked like she was going to have a stroke.

"Here," Ren grabbed a piece of cloth. "I’ll wipe it."

Syris caught her wrist. His hand was warm—heated by the food and the proximity to her.

"No," Syris purred. "You are the Chef. You do not waste ingredients."

He leaned back, arching his back slightly to present his chest to her.

"Lick it off."

Ren’s face went tomato red. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Syris said, his voice darkening. "The Sweet Gold is precious. I will not have it wiped away with a dirty cloth. Taste your creation, Little Chef."

He squeezed her hips.

"Or I will assume you poisoned it."

Ren looked at the honey glistening on his pale skin. She looked at his challenging expression. She looked at Lyssa, who looked ready to murder her.

’If I refuse, he might actually get angry.’

Ren took a breath.

"Fine," she muttered. "But don’t get used to this."

She leaned forward.

She hesitated for a second, feeling the heat radiating off him. Then, she stuck out her tongue.

She licked the honey from his sternum.

Syris shuddered. His hands tightened on her hips so hard it bruised.

"Lower," he gasped.

Ren dragged her tongue down, chasing the droplet. The skin was smooth, salty, and sweet. The texture of his new scales was barely perceptible, like polished satin.

When she reached the bottom of the trail, right above his navel, she pulled back.

"Done," Ren declared, wiping her mouth. "You’re now clean."

Syris stared at her. His chest was heaving. He looked like he was about to devour her right there on the kitchen floor.

"Not clean enough," Syris rasped. He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her face to his.

He kissed her.

He tasted of honey and raw power. His tongue...his forked tongue...swept into her mouth, exploring, tasting the sweetness she had just licked off him. It was strange, alien, and incredibly erotic.

Ren froze for a second, then melted. She couldn’t help it. The man was a walking sin.

Slap.

A loud sound broke the trance.

Lyssa had thrown her sponge into the water bucket. Hard.

"I am leaving!" Lyssa shrieked. "This is a kitchen, not a brothel!"

She stormed out, her tail thrashing violently, knocking over a basket of eels.

Syris broke the kiss. He looked at the door, annoyed. "She is loud," he muttered. He looked back at Ren, his lips slick with honey.

He picked up the last pancake with his own hand and popped it into his mouth.

"This ’Flat Cake’ is acceptable," Syris decided. "It makes me thirsty. Come."

He stood up, pulling Ren with him.

"We are going back to the Nest. I have wine. And..." He looked at the honey jar Ren was holding. "...I think we can afford some more accidents."

Ren clutched the jar to her chest. "Syris. No. We are not doing a honey glaze."

"We will see," Syris smirked, steering her out of the kitchen.

As they walked down the hall, Ren couldn’t help but wonder if Kael liked pancakes.

’Wherever he is,’ she thought.