ZEVRAN ILVANE POV

I watched Vesper from the kitchen door, a smile tugging on my lips at the focused look on her face as she read the instructions on the packet in her hand.

"Are you sure you want to cook?" I asked, walking toward her, my voice low and teasing. I leaned against the counter beside her, crossing my arms, and letting my gaze drift over the curve of her hip in her simple leggings.

She shot me a playful glare. "It’s called baking, not cooking. And yes, I’m sure. I’m going ...