Villainess is being pampered by her beast husbands-Chapter 392 --

With the careful focus he usually saved for herbs and bandages, he cradled her injured hand in both of his. His grip was light, almost cautious, fingers warm and steady against her overheated skin. Up close, he could see the edges of the cut were darker than they should be, like the hurt went deeper than the surface.

He blew on it, a small, cool breath over the blood.

It was a useless little habit, one that didn’t actually heal anything. But it made it sting less when he did it to himself, so he did it now, too.

Kaya’s fingers twitched, just once.

"Sorry," he said immediately. "Did that...?"

"It’s fine," she cut in, softer than usual. "I’ve had worse."

"I know," he answered, and there was something quiet and heavy in the way he said it.

He looked around, spotted a relatively clean scrap of cloth near their things, and reached for it. When he came back, he held it up a bit, waiting.

"Can I wrap it?" he asked. "Just until you can rest properly. It’ll keep the dirt out."

"You think I’m going to start licking the rocks?" she asked.

He gave her a small, tired smile. "I think you touched one hard enough to make it unhappy."

There was no accusation in it. Just a simple, careful truth.

Kaya huffed out a breath that was almost a chuckle. She turned her hand over, offering her palm.

"Do your worst, healer."

He didn’t. He did his best.

His fingers were gentle, turning her hand this way and that without jerking. He laid the cloth across her skin and wound it around, not too tight, leaving her fingers free. Every time the fabric brushed the cut, his touch lightened even more, as if he could feel the pain himself.

She watched his face more than his hands. The way he bit the inside of his cheek in concentration. The way his eyes kept flicking up to check her expression, making sure she hadn’t drifted back into whatever had grabbed her in her sleep.

"There," he said quietly when he tied the knot, neat and small. "Better. A little."

Kaya flexed her fingers, testing the wrap.

"Not terrible," she admitted.

He smiled, just a touch wider this time. Then, without really thinking about it, his hand drifted to hover over her pocket. He didn’t touch it, just let his fingers rest near the fabric where the Sparrow lay.

"He didn’t wake you?" Cutie asked, voice still soft. "The little one." 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"Must’ve been tired," she said. She didn’t mention the sharp twitch she’d felt when the heat had spiked. That part could stay in her head a while longer.

Cutie nodded, accepting it.

"If you... have that kind of dream again," he said, eyes on the burned mark rather than her face, "and your hand starts hurting like that, you can wake me. I sleep close enough, right?"

He tried to make it light, but his ears had gone a little pink.

Kaya looked at the small distance between their shoulders. At the way his body had leaned closer to hers in the night without him knowing. At the scorched stone that had sat under her palm while he slept.

"I’ll think about it," she said.

For her, that was almost a promise.

He nodded, quiet, accepting that too.

Kaya waited until her own breathing felt normal again.

Cutie’s careful fingers had left the cloth sitting snug around her palm, white against the angry red skin. The sting was still there, but dulled under the makeshift bandage. The burned mark on the stone had stopped looking fresh. Just a dark reminder now.

"Thank you," she said finally, quiet enough that the wind almost stole it.

Cutie blinked, then smiled that small, soft smile of his, the one that always made him look a little surprised she’d said anything nice. "You’re welcome," he answered, just as soft.

Silence settled again. A cold gust nudged at them. Kaya rolled her shoulders back, testing muscles. Everything hurt. That meant everything still worked. Good enough.

Her eyes slid past Cutie to the big, unmoving heap of feathers at the edge of the shelf.

Veer.

He hadn’t shifted back. Still full vulture—wings tucked in clumsy, head drooped forward, talons dug into the rock like if he let go he’d slide right off. He looked... dead wasn’t the right word. Emptied out. Like the bird version of someone face‑down on a couch after a sixteen‑hour shift.

"We should wake him," Kaya said.

Cutie followed her gaze and nodded. "He’ll get a cramp like that."

She pushed herself to her feet, every joint complaining, and dusted her hands off on her trousers out of habit. The bandaged one she shook a little slower. Then she drew in a deep breath, filling her lungs until her ribs protested, and let it out in a slow stream.

All right.

She walked toward Veer.

Up close, he looked even bigger, all bone and feather and trouble. Morning light caught on the curve of his beak, on the pale scars across his talons. His chest rose and fell in slow, heavy pulls. He’d burned a lot of himself getting them here. She remembered that.

Kaya stopped just in front of him and bent a little at the waist so her face was closer to his. Her hair slipped forward over her shoulder. She pushed it back with an impatient flick.

She lowered her head, swallowed what was left of her pride, and opened her mouth to wake him in a tone that wouldn’t bite.

"Veer," she started, softer than anyone but Cutie had ever heard her. "Time to—"

A blur moved past her.

Cutie.

He’d come up on her other side while she was focused on the bird. For once, he didn’t shuffle or hesitate or announce himself. He just stepped in, lifted his foot, and—before Kaya processed what she was seeing—planted a straight, sharp kick right into Veer’s feathered stomach.

Not full force. Cutie wasn’t cruel. But it wasn’t gentle either.

Veer’s reaction was instant.