Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted (Ava and Lucas)

Chapter 50

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.

me. I'm so used to being the one doing all the work, all the cooking and cleaning. Having someone else step into that role makes me feel

burden for a change. To be taken care of,

alpha who thinks

too comfortable here, too used to having Clayton around. This isn't permanent, no matter how much

my ears perking up—Selene's, too—and the smell reaches my nose a few seconds later.

I can let him take care

a sin to get a little comfortable, right?

* * *

Clayton is

to touch me. No more kisses on the forehead. He's

to approve, because she's zoned into her show instead of watching his every move. Of course, she doesn't have anything against

not like the snide remarks she throws in about Lucas every

cup of creamer with a splash of coffee, adding another spoon of sugar. I can see Clayton giving my drink a little side-eye, but

lot of flavor to

to enjoy myself just as his phone rings. I try to settle into my role as a couch potato,

the snippets of Clayton's conversation filtering through my ears. His deep, rumbling voice is hard to tune

with Blackwood is

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

his demands,

as the implications of his words start

Is a war coming after

seems to be at the center of

scalding liquid spills all over my lap. My breath

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