Spoiled By My Nine Beast Husbands (Emma Tibarn) novel Chapter 408

**When She Opened the Door to the Life She Was Afraid to Live by Nora Vale Kingsley 408**
**Chapter 408: A Marshal Who Can’t Grill**

Calum knew he needed to maintain a semblance of decorum in the glaring light of day.

As he observed Emma take a small step back, a wave of disappointment washed over him.

She hasn’t taken the opportunity to kiss me. Perhaps I’m not as alluring as I thought.

“Didn’t you mention you’d teach me the art of barbecuing? I’m ready for it now,” he said, trying to sound casual.

Barbecue is one thing, but why is he standing so close, dressed in such an enticing manner? Does he really believe I can resist this?

Emma extended a pair of skewering gloves toward him, her expression a mix of determination and amusement.

“Here, put these on. I’ll guide you through the process of skewering and grilling,” she instructed, her tone light yet encouraging.

“Alright,” Calum replied, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice.

He donned the gloves, trying to replicate her motions with utmost concentration. Yet, what should have been simple actions transformed into a series of clumsy mishaps in his capable hands. The same hands that had once deftly piloted starships through the cosmos and shattered the tough exoskeletons of Chitinid foes now fumbled awkwardly with bamboo skewers.

The skewers twisted at odd angles, and he managed to pierce the meat sideways more often than not. When he finally succeeded in aligning one, he inadvertently crushed the meat into an unrecognizable pulp, bits scattering like shrapnel in a battlefield.

Emma’s gaze fell upon the chaos that had once been a perfect slab of marbled meat, now reduced to a disheveled mess. Even the pieces he had managed to skewer bore the marks of his ineptitude—crooked, uneven, and utterly devoid of any aesthetic appeal.

Calum’s brow furrowed deeply, his expression grave, as if he were commanding troops on a battlefield. Sweat beaded at his temple, a testament to his mounting frustration. He had once single-handedly dismantled three Rank 11 Chitinid elites with his bare hands, yet here he stood, feeling utterly powerless.

No matter how formidable a Chitinid’s shell or how intricate its skeletal structure, he had always known the precise angle to deliver a lethal strike. Yet now, soft, yielding meat felt like the most formidable opponent he had ever faced. Every ounce of skill he possessed seemed to evaporate, leaving him with a sense of helplessness that hit him like a physical blow to the gut.

“Ms. Tibarn, I…” he began, his voice faltering.

“It’s alright,” she interjected, her tone soothing.

With a gentle touch, Emma took the pitiful skewer from his hand and replaced it with one she had expertly prepared.

“Calum, you’re in charge of the grilling now,” she said, her voice steady and encouraging.

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