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.

But at the

Ava: The Grey Girl

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

an alpha who thinks he’s my

used to having Clayton around. This

a hot pan has my ears perking up–Selene’s, too–and the

can let him take care of me for just

not a sin to get a little comfortable, right? Since I can’t leave, anyway?

***

with Clayton is

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

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38

The Grey

taken

Of course, she doesn’t have anything against Clayton

remarks she throws in about Lucas

my cup

of o

drink a little side–eye, but I’m used to

lot of flavor

I try to settle into my role as a couch potato, but my ears can’t help picking up his side of

sugary taste linger on my tongue as I try to ignore the snippets of Clayton’s

my ears. His

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The Grey

out, even with the mindless chatter of the television providing background noise.

Blackwood

clutch my mug a little tighter, the

his demands, but they’re

sinks as the implications

sink in.

and Westwood? Is a war coming after all?

at the

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

girl.