I Unintentionally Became Her Kitten

Chapter 17: Pain d’epi

We got back to the house a long time after. Tye drove to seemingly the furthest store within reason and I fought the static-y waves of panic to find my items. In the end I bought only three things: sage, feta and ricotta cheese. Tye did not leave my side during this process and glared at anybody who got a bit too close. It was perhaps a bit overkill, but I appreciated him trying to protect me.

When we finally got back, the dough had already proofed fully and I hurried to wash away the specks of dried blood off my hands and any dirt from the store before dumping it out onto the counter. It oozed in a way it had not before and as soon as I started to handle it, I understood why people enjoyed this activity. It was soft and cool to the touch. The tackiness was no longer annoying, instead the dough stuck to itself far more than anything else and moved like putty.

Tye hung around in the kitchen as I kneaded it a couple more times, then flattened it out into the rectangle, as close to the picture in the book as I could. It fought me to do so, repeatedly springing back to a wobbly shape so I gave in after a while and began mixing the filling ingredients together. The feta, ricotta, sage, and cranberries as well as a little salt, pepper, and strangely enough, sugar. I mixed it into a chunky paste and turned back to the bread dough, giving it a final shape adjustment which it seemed more conducive to now. Then it was the surprisingly difficult process of putting the filling on. It did not want to stick to the dough so my initial plan of spreading it across like butter quickly devolved into pressing it into the dough with my fingers and struggling to get the full surface covered like the diagram showed.

This recipe was more difficult than I thought, I realized. It seemed silly to make a simple log bread but now I was realizing I could’ve saved myself a lot of grief had I gone that route.

Once the filling was mostly covering the surface, I studied the next diagram. I then rolled the dough into a long log, another process more difficult in practice than in theory. The dough stuck to the counter more than the filling. Still, I got it done with only a few small tears in the dough and took a breather.

The next step was to bake it so I went ahead and turned the oven on… which took a few attempts as I had never used a touch-screen kitchen appliance and there were so many options it was a little overwhelming.

And then it was back to the bread. I needed to cut it, but I had yet to find any significantly sharp instrument.

I finally turned to Tye, who had hopped onto the counter on the other side of the kitchen to continue browsing on his phone like he had been earlier.

“Uhm, do you know where the knives are?” I asked him.

He looked up and pointed to the same drawer as all the silverware. “They're under the tray in there,” he explained.

“Oh, okay,” I opened the drawer and stared down at the tray.. It looked like a normal silverware tray with forks, knives, spoons and in an extra long compartment, a set of stainless steel chopsticks, which I made note of. So underneath it… I curled my fingers into a small indent on the front and lifted, finding it swing up easier than expected and it remained there without my support.

There was a knife tray there, with only a handful of knives but they were very clearly well maintained. I pulled a smaller one out to find the edge razor sharp and an almost mirror-like finish to the rest of the blade. It felt dangerous in my hands. I didn’t think I’d ever held anything that was this sharp. 

With a great deal of caution I used it to cut those sections into the bread and began arranging them according to the picture. It was again more difficult than anticipated but I got through it and slid the whole thing into the oven. I then stared at the dirty spots on the counter. Cleaning. Again. It wasn't so bad but still, this was more work than I anticipated. I cleaned the knife first and returned it to it's hiding spot before moving on to the rest of the wiping down and dish washing process.

Tye had returned to his phone and wasn't paying much attention anymore so I could feel mostly alone and comfortable. In a way I had to appreciate his concern for my well-being, I was sure that was the only reason he decided to stick so close to me. And I guessed that was reasonable after witnessing someone have a panic attack.

I looked at the back of my hand. The blood has dried and I'd washed most of it off when we got back but there was still a very obvious scrape there, not to mention the aching deeper in the joints. It wasn't broken, I didn't think. The pain was mostly from poking at it, so there was a forming bruise that hadn't yet surfaced.

Alisha would be worried. I could try hiding it but it felt dishonest. And Tye might tell her anyway so it would be best to let her ask questions. She never made me tell her more than I was comfortable, but an injury might make her more pressing.

Things would be okay. It was easier to believe that when I was back in this house.

Alisha returned with Matteo in the evening. She still had a stern look on her face and dismissed Matteo at the door. He gave her a respectful nod and headed out.

Tye stood as she came in.

“It's fine,” she sighed. “Nothing new. Sergei got a talking to and he seems to be cooperative for the time being.”

I hesitated to approach. The bread was now done and had even cooled it's recommended time but Alisha didn't typically go for food as soon as she got home.

She did come up to me and put her hand on the top of my head, even shifting into a smile as she did so. “How was your day?” she asked routinely. Then stopped and reached down to pluck up my hand with its scrapes.

Her gaze then turned to Tye as if he needed to explain himself.

“I did it,” I told her quickly.

Her gaze turned back to me and hesitated before she dropped my hand, then she dipped and wrapped both arms around my waist and picked me up.

I gasped and latched onto her as she carried me the two or three steps to the counter and sat me down there.

Then she picked my hand up again to stare at it.

“Did you punch something?” she asked.

I nodded.

“A brick wall to be exact,” Tye explained.

Alisha looked between the two of us then back at my hand and ran those slender fingers over the scabbed injuries.

“Could you give us a moment, Tye?” She asked without looking up.

“Yes,” he said and slid out of the kitchen behind her and continued down the hall until I couldn't make out his footsteps anymore.

“Are you okay, Kitten?” She asked softly.

I felt like a child getting sat up on the counter while she fretted over my injury.

“I'm okay,” I reassured her. “I… got overwhelmed, I guess… and punched the wall.”

She sighed. “That's not good.” She pulled my hand up to her mouth and kissed it softly. “Did someone say something?”

“No, it was more like … someone I used to know… and just interacting with them stirred up some bad memories.”

“I see. So you went out somewhere and someone from before recognized you.”

I nodded. “Exactly.”

“Hmmm… do you need someone to talk to about things?” She asked. 

I shook my head. “No, I'm just still … processing a lot of things.”

“Okay, Kitten.” She leaned forward and nuzzled her face against my neck, breathing in my scent. “You smell like bread,” she murmured.

“I made some,” I said proudly. “It's a little rustic but it should still taste good.”

“Sounds tasty,” she said. She didn't pick herself back up quite yet, looking beyond a bit worn out.

“How was your day?” I asked.

She went very still, her breath blowing across my neck. I closed my eyes, enjoying her company.

“Do you want to know a secret?” she asked softly.

“If you need to tell someone you can tell me,” I said, sensing her shift in mood.

“I've wanted to kill Sergei since before I even had this position.” She sighed, her breath once again warming my flesh and sending skittering sensations across my skin.

“I… see,” I said but I didn't really understand the significance.

“He was part of the old family’s upper structure so when I took things over, I gave him the choice of letting me control him or fleeing the city. I didn't think he would choose to accept my control and instead try to fight me or move on. But he did and I think he takes a great deal of pride in being as difficult as possible.”

“If he's being insubordinate, why don't you get rid of him?” I didn't like the idea of sending someone to their death but Sergei wasn't exactly a good person.

“He's part of the old family,” she explained. “As well as about half of my other captains. I can handle one of them revolting but if he doesn't do something that they see as worthy of extermination, they won't respect that decision. And I already struggle with keeping them in check.”

“And the old family is the people that came before you?” 

She nodded. “And most of them want me dead already. They don't believe a woman should be in charge here. Or at least they use it as an excuse... But I'm much stricter than my father ever was and they don't like that I don't let them run wild with whatever they want.”

“Oh I see.” I didn't know why I assumed criminals wouldn't have a glass ceiling like the rest of business. But if Alisha had managed to climb on top of it, it was now her glass floor and being too reckless could make the entire thing shatter beneath her. She was in a more precarious position than I had originally thought. It was now a concern that she didn’t have more security with her at all times.

She finally picked her head up from my neck and trailed a few kisses up to my lips. She lingered there a while, not that I would complain. Part of me would always be up for a romp in the sheets with her, even if today my brain felt burnt out and I suspected she was hiding how miserable her day had actually been.

But she withdrew and once again looked at my hand. “I have some ointment that’ll help this heal quickly. But let’s eat some food first.”

I nodded and once she had taken a step away, slid off the counter. I rather shyly presented the pain d’epi to her. The fillings had gotten messy and some had squished out, others melted out, and the beautiful wheat stalk pattern had gotten distorted quite a bit but the smell was still incredible.

“How about some salad to go with it?” she asked and went about looking through the fridge. “It’s beautiful but I feel like we’ll need a bit more nutrition.”

I nodded. I had been educated enough to know the dangers of surviving off of simple carbs.

Alisha did her usual routine of making us a couple of simple salads with the cranberries and walnuts and blue cheese and got a cutting board for the bread, and retrieved one of those wickedly sharp knives from underneath the silverware.

“Will you do the honors?” she asked and offered it to me.

I took it from her, and looked down at the bread.

It smelled amazing, and after I had sliced a few pieces off and we shared them, it tasted even better.