As the evening progressed, the kids were finally bundled into bed, and everything calmed down. I went to the kitchen, took my cake bases to warm up and thaw, and opened my books and reserved my chocolates, as well as my decorative gels, flavoring drops and nozzles, piping bags, and other supplies.
I used heavy cream, curd, vanilla sauce, fresh strawberries, raspberries, and a few other berries and nuts as fillings. I was humming softly under my breath as I prepared everything in the dim light of our upstairs kitchen.
Now it was my turn; stainless steel glimmered slightly in the dimmed lights, everything was quiet, and it was time for me to relax, take my time, and try to make these as good as possible.
I had a lot of options for flavoring things, and the decorations had to be tasty as well as visually appealing. I aimed for perfection in terms of taste. I had time and motivation to experiment with them.
As one of the bases was chocolate, it would get a chocolate filling with passionfruit and raspberries and a yogurt curd mix; decorations I was going to take my time with. And then one cake would have strawberries, cream, and yogurt with a rose kind of decoration. One cake would be a nutty white chocolate cake with decorations made out of white chocolate and colorful gels, feathering, and other techniques used. One cake would have; earlier, I had made my favorites, waffle roses and decorations, which I had always enjoyed eating, so I had plenty of them.
As I was still preparing my fillings and hadn't even cut my cakes, soft footsteps and a calm voice approaching me caused me to furrow my brow.
"Oh, baby, whatcha doin' here?" Number one was leaning against the doorframe, looking at me with that damn smirk.
"Cakes, for tomorrow, I know Salvatores has made everything small nibble dessert things or ice cream, but I am gonna make five cakes with different fillings; I have time and energy."
He walked closer and said, "You mean we are going to make those cakes, baby? Fine, let's see what we have here."
I rolled my eyes as he started to take an inventory of what I had, checking on my nozzles, gels, and flavorings, furrowing his brow, as these were from my private stash, not normally available.
"Well, it appears that we have just received an upgrade with these; I will cut the cakes while you whip the cream. Let's see, 800 ml; don't flavor it too much; add some yogurt, curd, and a few drops; and then see what we need," he planned.
I gritted my teeth, but I measured the cream and put it in to be whipped. I had my butter and sugar reserved for my buttercream, and he checked them as well while also looking through my books to see what techniques were available.
I knew my nerves would fray before morning, but it was what it was, and I just had to deal with it. As I tried to control my irritation, I began to wonder, what if I adopt a completely different attitude, throw it at number one, and see how he reacts?
Let's see if we can make this work, but first we'll tease him a little.
"Damon, I must confess one thing: you may have gone through my assets and whatnot, but as I looked into what old Anders left, I mean, I was dealing with it before this all started; I made some shuffling, because fleas don't have use for everything, and it just clogs our system if there is a lot of stuff. So I moved something to my personal assets, and I'm not sure if those lists have been updated."
He grunted and said, "Please clarify, and then I can say if I was aware or not, and by the way, once this is over and it is time to get back to work, we all need those personal codes for hotlines. What you used when you escaped from Utah, I plucked that from Mariella's mind. Despite us not being upper echelon, so to speak, we are a pack, connected to you and top targets for nasties, and we have also done some reclassification about who is the main target for sarks and protect them."
"Well, the assets I took are five large yachts, which were left to us by Beauclaire's contacts after they relocated to the magic house and new realms, where there is no need for boats. We have five large yachts available for personal use, but they must have my written permission and are non-negotiable." I explained.
He grunted and said, "Good to know we have boats, and for your insurance, well done; it keeps Marella in check. She can be dense at times, and she may even attempt to give access to her witches. It's good that you have control over them."
As we got cakes filled, with some negotiating and planning, I took my buttercream and planned on piping it on and then spreading it.
But as I grabbed my bag, Damon said, "Who the hell taught you to grab the bag like that? You strain your wrist, and no wonder you do fast and loose. Let me show you, like this. Now, put your thumb over here, and you control pressure with your heel, not squeeze with your fingers."
His hands encircled mine as he corrected my position, and once he had gotten my hands in the correct position, then he made sure I was close enough, my back was not strained, and my posture was good. It was almost like back in the day when he taught me how to shoot.
"Fine, it appears I have my work cut out for me: teach you to get out of those bad habits and make you learn the right way," he muttered 30 minutes later as we were still covering cakes and he was teaching how to use a spatula and make everything as neat as possible.
And I didn't mind because he was now teaching rather than overtaking, and one thing my mind enjoyed was learning; sure, I had my incorrect grips and awkward angles with my hands, but he corrected me repeatedly until I learned how to do it correctly.
He would occasionally read my books and recipes, muttering to himself because there was something new in them that he had not considered, or perhaps something had been invented that he had not in his time as a cake maker, but he was eager to learn and implement everything he read, and he also came up with some new decorating ideas.
He, of course, cut the cakes and made sure the fillings were spot on, as he made them and tasted them. He also filled the cakes, ready to be stacked and decorated.
As I was moving to pipe some rosettes on my one chocolate cake, which I was planning to temper with chocolate decorations, he noticed what I was doing and came back behind me. His hands overtook mine, and he began to teach me how to pipe these rosettes again, making sure they were exactly the same size and in the same spot and that my stance was perfect.
He explained that instead of using tempered chocolate, he would make chocolate buttercream flowers, twirls, and sides with a gold-tinged fleur-de-lis pattern with Salvatore flair. I gritted my teeth and promised myself that one day I'd make these damn cakes from start to finish and that no husband or pack member would mess with them.
"Baby, after this lot is born and we get our routine back, we can have a cake decorating competition; each of us makes our own cakes, which are tasty but kids will appreciate," he suggested, or rather, simply stated.
I grunted as I tried to concentrate on this damn piping and working with someone else rather than just by myself, which was never easy for me and made even more difficult since I was pregnant, to say the least.
But, again, let's flip the script and see if we can turn this into something other than me being upset about everything.
As we were putting those rosettes on, I took one of my strawberry-flavored gels and suddenly turned to Damon and piped some of it into his lips, smiling and saying, "Well, what do you think, taste-wise?"
I made my little piping bit sloppy, so it smeared on his face, and he licked his lips, smacked his lips, and wiped his face.
"Yeah, it tastes good, but baby, cake is what you are supposed to decorate, not my poor face."
I just smiled and said, "Well, you could use some decorations as well. You are the pack leader, or are you afraid of getting dirty?"
He soon took his own bag, and our little food war began; we were goofing off, having a blast in the kitchen.
We had a great time chasing each other and messing with our piping bags, rather than focusing on our cakes. I'd gotten a few good squirts on Damon's hair, and he'd smeared my face and neck. We were messy, covered in gels, smiling, and having fun, which was something we had never done before, being so playful with each other. It was great to see him truly smile and let go.
He looked at me and said, "Well, aren't you dirty, my girl? Maybe I ought to lick you nice and clean."
There was a distinct heat in his voice.
"Oh, you're not going to get to my pants that easily, Salvatore, just try," I said as I moved away, still holding my piping bag.
He took one buttercream bag and went to one cake and began to pipe. He smirked and looked at me. My brow furrowed as I noticed what he was actually piping; let's just say, while the kids might not get it, the rest of the pack would undoubtedly recognize this piece of female anatomy that he was so intent on decorating the cake with. Fine, let's fight fire with fire.
I took light brown mocha-flavored buttercream and went to pipe another cake, making Damon say, "Oh, baby, do you need a live model? I can tell what you are lacking, you dirty girl."
Oh my god, his tone of voice! Now I was not sure if we would do any more piping or sanctify this kitchen for once and for all if he did not stop seducing me so hard. Not that I was difficult to seduce; it was just that he was so damn good at it.
I was trying to make my decoration as anatomically correct as possible, and Damon was making frequent comments on my work. We were so engrossed in our creations that we didn't notice Mariella walking in. She stopped at the doorway and observed us having fun and seducing each other.
Damon said to me, "Come on, let me show you. I think I have gotten my love as pure as possible."
I raised my brow and said, "Your mind is in the gutter right now. I'm not sure how lustful your love is."
He said, making a face, "Oh, pleeease, babe, lemme show you; I swear, this is good."
I rolled my eyes. Mariella cleared her throat, causing Damon to look at her. "
Oh, don't mind me; it is obvious you have something going on here," she said sullenly.
Damon snapped, "We do, actually. Come on, baby, let me show you."
His tone had sharpened, his scent had intensified, and this was the essence of him. He wanted to show me his true love. The flank guy, Mariella's Damon. Fine. I put down my piping bag and went to Damon.
I took his hands, looked into his eyes, and breathed, "Show me. Allow me to feel it."
He closed his eyes and sent his love to me. It was pure, with no lust, but he was hesitant, almost seeking my approval. I allowed his love to circle within me and returned my love for him. Making him sigh softly, he allowed it to swirl and feel before sending his love for me back with greater confidence. I returned it, boosted by my love.
"This is incredible, baby," he finally breathed, opening his eyes and feeling his new energy.
I said to him, "Now you have balance, lust, and love. This is what I have taught salvatores; not all of them can make completely pure, but they are getting there."
Damon nodded, and I let go of his hands.
He looked at Mariella and said, "Come on, 'ella. I'll help you make this," he said, nodding, "but I think I need to start teaching Mariella what this is all about and try to make her this as well."
He gently approached Mariella, took her hand, and led her to another room to teach her about true love without lust. I wasn't sure if he could do it, but time would tell.