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

all the work, all the cooking and cleaning. Having someone else step into that role makes me feel uncomfortable. Lazy.

But at the

The Grey

of being the one doing all the taking care. It’s just breakfast, but he

alpha who thinks he’s my

comfortable here, too used to having Clayton around. This isn’t permanent, no matter how much he might want it to

up–Selene’s, too–and the smell reaches my nose a few seconds later. My stomach gives an involuntary rumble.

of me for just a little while longer.

little comfortable, right? Since

***

Clayton is comfortable.

more kisses on the forehead. He’s just there, polite and friendly, making

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38

Ava: The

taken care

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

in about Lucas

to think about him, I focus on my cup of creamer

of o

my drink a little side–eye, but I’m

lot of flavor to mask its real taste.

phone rings. I try to settle into my role as a couch potato, but my ears can’t help picking

comfort, and I sip at it, letting the sugary taste linger on my tongue as

my

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The

to tune out, even with the mindless chatter of the

with Blackwood is

down my spine, and I clutch my mug a little

demands, but they’re refusing…”

the implications of his words

sink in.

a war

seems to be at the center

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

girl. Me?