I run back through the corridors, back through the Residence. Cain is hot on my heels and if anything, it feels like he’s jogging beside me, rather than exerting himself.
I race into the Kitchens and open the oven. A cloud of black pours in my face and I cough. It is ruined. I grab the gloves and chuck the pan on the top. It’s black, rock hard, completely inedible.
“What is that?” Cain asks wrinkling his nose and I don’t blame him. It smells awful.
“It was meant to be sweetbread. It tastes great or at least it does when it’s not burnt to a crisp.”
“You cook?” Cain says smirking like it’s funny.
“I wanted to be a chef.” I murmur.
“Really?” He says.
“I like cooking, baking, making food.”
He growls in a way that makes me flush with heat. “Cook something for me.” He says.
“What?” I snap. “I’m not your slave.”
He laughs. “Not yet ,Rosalie.”
“Urgh.” I mutter looking back at the pan. I rarely mess up. I rarely produce anything that doesn’t taste good. “Fine what do you want to eat?”
“You mea
