Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted (Ava and Lucas)

Chapter 3 Ava: Danger

[WARNING: Sensitive content ahead.]

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Days pass with little regard for the anxiety building in my belly every time I crawl into bed at night, watching the phases of the moon, wondering what this next chapter of life will look like.

Aside from a brief shopping excursion with Jessa—who ignores me almost the entire time and scoffs at every dress I try on—I don't leave the house except for school and work, trying to avoid trouble.

I spend any spare moment I can manage picking up extra shifts at Beaniverse to help pay for the atrocious bill at the mall. Who spends three hundred dollars on a dress? But Jessa insisted that it was the only one that didn't make me look like I was wearing a silk potato sack.

Lisa's busy, too, so our texts are few and far between, mostly complaining about work and school.

My family's indifference weighs on me like a thick blanket, but beneath it, a tiny bud of hope sprouts—maybe, just maybe, I'll make it to the gala without incident. A week remains before the event that could change my life, or just as likely, confirm my place as the outcast.

Today, like the rest of the past two weeks, appears to be yet another day of unsettling peace as I head home after class with groceries in my passenger seat.

Phoenix is stopping by for dinner, so I have his favorites on the menu—a creamy garlic and parmesan roasted chicken, paired with bacon-wrapped brussels sprouts tossed in maple syrup and balsamic vinaigrette.

It sounds fancier than it is, but it really is delicious, thanks to the internet recipes I'd found years ago.

As the appointed alpha heir to the Blackwood Pack, Mom always fawns on Phoenix. Dad was thrilled enough that he had a son with alpha potential, but when Alpha Renard's last son was killed in a small skirmish with renegade wolves and Phoenix was named heir, he strutted more like a peacock than a wolf for at least a month afterward.

One day he will be Alpha Phoenix Blackwood, but for now, he's still a Grey.

I juggle the flimsy plastic grocery bags with the grace of a dying fawn as I make my way into the empty house.

The peace of these past few weeks must have rotted the self preservation sphere of my brain, because I don't pay any attention to my surroundings as I unlock the front door and walk in.

the door slams with a

childhood bully and ever-present tormentor, is here. Inside.

what he'd

in the entrance of my home, his face twisted into a sneer that chills my spine. I can't even step away as my brain struggles to catch up to the situation, watching as he reaches

find some fuckwit willing to take you as a mate." His voice

hand circles my neck, lifting

and for a moment my idiot brain focuses on the apples that thud against hardwood. They'll be bruised.

think you're good enough for the gala, huh? You think you can ever escape our pack?" His breath is hot and tuna fresh

face him again. He growls every word, rejoicing as they stab into all my insecurities, bleeding me of all those

my ribcage, a trapped bird desperate for escape. His grip tightens in response to my struggle, and

rushing into my throat, making it even harder to bring air to my burning lungs.

isn't the torturous

flickers through my limbs as I grab onto his forearm, scratching long, angry swathes down his skin. I try to kick, but he steps in closer, pinning my legs against the wall with his weight. Sadistic

body and trying to ignore the hard evidence pushing against my belly of exactly how much

Dad doesn't give a shit when I come home with bruises, but now the gala is just around the corner. If his youngest daughter showed up with bruises

the tender skin of my throat, and I lower my eyes. A long time ago, I would refuse to submit, taking every abuse thrown my way and

him it all day long. Whatever lets me live to

infusing the sound with a little vibrato, as though I want to cry. I tilt my head

sends revulsion shuddering through every millimeter of my skin, and I struggle to keep my face blank as he sniffs beneath my left ear, licking the crescent-shaped scar on my neck in a long, slow drag of saliva and

to escape my body with force, but I somehow manage to avoid puking in his

a little. His other hand falls to my hip, tugging me closer, and I close my eyes, breathing through my mouth to offset the metallic tang behind my

me as Todd bites my shoulder, his jaw rigid and unyielding. The shriek that escapes me is beyond my control, and I slap at his shoulder in a frantic attempt to

grunts, finally letting go, but not before suckling a motherfucking hickey onto my skin. He grips my jaw, staring into my eyes, and I realize then that the game has

us, Ava. You're a defective piece of shit, but you belong here. There's no prince on a white horse among our packs. There's nothing

to my feet.

relief when he lets go is replaced only by a horror as his hand slides slowly down my neck, between my breasts, and rests gently

much else, but at least