Tangled

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.” S~ᴇaʀᴄh the (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

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,

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50 Ava: The Grey Girl

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.

1

so used to being the one doing all the work, all the cooking and cleaning. Having someone else step into

But at the

The Grey Girl

that burden for a change. To be taken care of, instead of being the one doing

an alpha who thinks he’s

shake my head, trying to dislodge those thoughts. I can’t afford to get too comfortable here, too used to having Clayton around. This isn’t permanent,

has my ears perking up–Selene’s, too–and the smell reaches

him take care of me for just a

not a sin to get a little

***

with Clayton is

me. No more kisses on the forehead. He’s just

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38

The Grey Girl

taken

have anything against Clayton in the first place. She doesn’t like the idea of being trapped here, but she has

remarks she throws in about Lucas every time

think about him, I focus on my cup of creamer with a splash of coffee, adding another

of o

Clayton giving my drink a little side–eye,

coffee without a lot of flavor to mask its

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

confection is pure comfort, and I sip at it, letting the sugary taste linger on my tongue as I try to ignore the

filtering through my

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The Grey

is hard to tune out, even with the

Blackwood

I clutch my mug a little tighter, the

demands,

implications

sink in.

Westwood? Is a war coming after all?

be at the center of

slips from my fingers, and I barely manage to catch it before the scalding liquid spills all over my

Grey girl.