Filthy rich werewolves by Taylor Caine novel Chapter 7

Jay’s question burns between us.

Do you want me?

I’m speechless for several second because I know whatever I say next, it till change … everything.

If this had been said by some other man, it would've sounded like they were flirting with me.

But when the words came from him, it was like he was just asking a simple question of "want" or "don't want” and I assume he means it to mean his presence here. I don’t read any ambiguity into his words, even if there had been, I realize my answer would be the same:

“Yes.”

He nods.

And I lay back down.

We don’t speak again after that.

Somehow, I sleep through the night.

I’m amazed by that actually, because I’ve not had a single night’s peace since leaving prison that didn’t involve nightmares of being beaten, shamed, abused…every finger burning with the pain of breaking and nails torn off.

I wake up several times each night, terrified or crying. My heart pounding and my mind a mess. I tried sleeping pills once—but that just locked me in the terror.

I’ll never make that mistake again.

But I slept last night and somehow, I didn’t dream.

I roll over to look at the figure lying on the ground beside my bed.

Still here.

Was it because of him? Because I was no longer alone in this room?

I get out of bed and squat down beside Jay to tug a blanket over him. I know he’s a wolf, but this apartment is cold. He catches my hand.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He doesn’t say anything.

I feel awkward and not really sure how to act or what to say. So I get up and hurry to get ready for work.

Before I leave, I pull money out of my purse and leave it on the kitchen table.

“You’re welcome here,” I tell him. “Make yourself comfortable.”

He looks at the money and then back at me.

* * * * * * * * *

JASON

I’m still sitting at the tiny table with its rickety chairs and wobbly tabletop after Grace has left the apartment.

I stare for a long time at the twenty-dollar bill she left me. It’s for food, I’m guessing.

When was the last time someone made such a gesture to take care of me?

Well, that isn’t fair. I have countless pack mates who would do whatever I asked of them. I have employees, servants, guards. Women fall over themselves. Humans, especially.

But they know who I am.

The power I wield.

The wealth and privilege.

Would any one of them have welcomed a homeless man into their home? Offered to feed him? Offered money they didn’t have to spare.

I don’t think so.

With Grace gone, the room is eerily quiet.

“Alpha Sean Stevens?”