"No, I don't."
I frowned as I gave Elliot my answer, firm and final. My tone left no room for negotiation. I didn't want his help, didn't want him hovering in my kitchen, didn't want to deal with the chaos his presence stirred inside me.
Elliot studied me for a brief second, then said nothing.
Instead, he turned and went back to the couch, sitting down like an Alpha choosing restraint over dominance. He leaned back, one arm resting casually, but his attention never truly left me. I could feel it his gaze steady, quiet, watchful.
The apartment felt different with him here.
Too alive.
The space had always been just right for Jared and me. Two bedrooms, one living room. Simple. Safe. A den built for survival, not indulgence. But with Elliot inside it, the air felt thicker, charged with something unseen. His Alpha energy settled into the walls, warm and steady, stripping away my exhaustion in ways I didn't want to acknowledge.
I focused on cooking.
