Chapter 50 Ava: The Grey Girl

"Good morning," Clayton says with a smile, and I step back to let him into the apartment. He pauses for just a moment when he sees Selene, and I wait for the questions—but he doesn't ask any.

He's polite like that.

Honestly, outside of my paranoia and not wanting to rely on him, he seems like a pretty great guy.

Clayton strides into the kitchen like he owns it—which, I mean, he does—while I stand around feeling awkward and out of place in this fancy apartment. He seems so at home here, like he belongs.

"Everything okay with the phone?" he calls out from the kitchen. "You didn't text me this morning."

"Oh, uh, no issues," I reply, glancing down at the sleek new device on the end table. "I just woke up a little while ago and haven't set it up yet."

There's a brief pause, and then the sound of a pot clattering onto the stove. "Have you eaten?"

I shake my head, even though he can't see me. "No, not yet."

"Well, go relax then. I'll whip up some breakfast."

Before I can protest, he emerges from the kitchen, those intense green eyes fixing me with a look that brooks no argument. Grasping my shoulders, he turns me towards the plush couch and gives me a gentle nudge in that direction.

"Go on, I've got this."

I open my mouth to argue, but one glance at his resolute expression has me snapping it shut again. Instead, I just nod and make my way over to the couch, sinking into the soft cushions with a sigh.

Selene, ever my loyal companion, leans against me as she focuses on her show, resting her head on my lap. I absently run my fingers through her soft fur, trying to ignore the sounds of Clayton puttering around in the kitchen.

having someone else cook for me. Take care of me. I'm so used to being the one doing all the

at the same time, there's a part of me that's relieved to have someone else shoulder that burden for a change. To be taken care of, instead of being the

alpha who thinks he's

get too comfortable here, too used to having Clayton

too—and the smell reaches my nose a few

let him take care

not a sin to get a little comfortable, right? Since

* * *

with Clayton is

forehead. He's just

she's zoned into her show instead of watching his every move. Of course, she doesn't have anything against Clayton in the first place. She doesn't like the idea of being trapped here, but

like the snide remarks she throws in about Lucas

adding

coffee without a lot of flavor to

rings. I try to settle into my role

it, letting the sugary taste linger on my tongue as I try to ignore the snippets of Clayton's conversation filtering through my ears. His deep, rumbling voice is hard to tune out,

Blackwood is

spine, and I clutch my mug a little tighter, the warmth

sent his demands,

heart sinks as the implications of his

Is a

seems to be at the center of

fingers, and I barely manage to catch it before the scalding liquid spills all over my lap. My breath catches

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