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Sifted flour dusted the front of her apron. Red stained her fingers from the berries she strained into a bowl and mixed with bloomed gelatin. Makenna held a measuring stick to soft sponge, marking the inches with small knife cuts. Everything had to be perfect. She had tried this recipe many times, frustrated every time she failed to replicate the recipe exactly, but this was it. She was finally going to make the perfect frilly cakes. The ones Solas loved so much.
Hours ticked by. The sun sunk down past the horizon, the light retreating from the kitchen, the impending darkness reminding her that her time was nearly up. Wisps of hair escaped her bun and curled around her face. Doors opened and closed upstairs, her vampires waking up to join her for the evening.
Blackwall poked his head into the kitchen, having left her to her task alone lest she threaten him with a rolling pin again. “Ready?”
Makenna stepped back, observing the small squares held aloft with layers of jam and creme, topped with chantilly, a fresh strawberry, and sprig of mint, and nodded.
"What have you been up to, ma lath?” Solas asked as if he didn’t know, striding into the room alone. He always knew where she was, what she was doing, how she was feeling. The mark had fully entrenched him into her brain and she didn’t mind at all. He had worried she would feel owned, but instead, she felt safe.
“I made the cakes you like,” she said, beaming with pride. “And I think they’re perfect this time.”
He hummed and leaned close, towering over her, with his hands clasped behind his back. “You think?”
“Well, I hope so. The last few batches—“
“Still tasted wonderful, Makenna,” he reassured, kissing her brow. “I love that you want to do something for me, but only if you’re enjoying yourself.”
“I am,” she promised. “Baking…feels good. I’m remembering what I love about it.”
He cupped her chin, lips whispering over hers. “I am glad.”
“Are you ready to taste?”
She carefully cut the cake and held out a bite. Slender fingers wrapped around her wrist to hold her hand steady. Solas chewed thoughtfully, his face perfectly neutral, while she vibrated in anticipation.
His lips curved into a smile. “It’s wonderful. Did you taste?”
“Not—“
He captured her lips, the sweet taste of strawberries and cream lingering on his tongue, swallowing her surprised gasp. “What do you think?” he asked, mouth still against hers.
Makenna’s eyes fluttered closed. “I think I nailed it.”