Tangled

3 Ava: Danger

[WARNING: Sensitive content ahead.]

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

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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.

3 Ava: Danger

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.

As I step further inside, a breeze tickles my neck and the door slams with a force that can only mean trouble, bringing a familiar and unwelcome scent to my nose.

Mason, my childhood bully and ever–present tormentor, is here. Inside. With me. Right now. Ready to finish what he’d

of my home, his face twisted into a sneer that chills my spine. I can’t even step

hear umu’ve hoon nloving princess thinki

3 Ava: Danger

find some fuckwit willing to take you as a mate.” His voice drips with malice as he steps forward,

hand circles my neck, lifting me until I’m standing on the very

the bags fall to the floor, and for a moment my idiot brain

to eat them faster than I expected.

think you can ever escape our pack?” His breath is hot and tuna fresh

to face him again. He growls every word, rejoicing as they stab into all my insecurities, bleeding me of all those precious hopes and dreams I’ve kept in secret. “Do you actually believe anyone would want you? A wolfless freak

a trapped bird desperate for escape. His grip tightens in response to

3 Ava: Danger

struggle, and my mouth opens as I

making it even harder to bring air to my burning lungs. Punches, kicks, scratches–those, I’m used to. Rocks thrown at my head. Jeers and taunts. But this? This

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

hiss, jerking my entire body and trying to ignore the hard evidence pushing against my belly of exactly how much he’s enjoying this moment. “If

the gala is just around the corner. If his youngest daughter showed up with bruises all

fingers flexing around

3 Ava: Don

my throat, and I lower my eyes. A long time ago, I would refuse to submit, taking every abuse thrown my way and plotting revenge. That was before I learned that real life is nothing like the storybooks we

Whatever lets me live to

little vibrato, as though I want to cry. I tilt my head

loves that. His growl of approval 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

fish.

I somehow manage to avoid puking

just a little. His other hand falls to my hip, tugging me closer, and I close my eyes, breathing

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jaw. “I need to

is beyond my control, and I slap at his shoulder in a frantic attempt to escape, writhing against his grip. “Todd! Fuck! That

suckling a motherfucking hickey onto my skin. He grips my jaw, staring into my eyes, and I realize

at me in maniacal satisfaction. “You’ll

here. There’s no prince on a white horse among our packs. There’s nothing to save you at the gala. You’ll be our little omega

stomach falls to my feet. “Omega… breeder?”

Even without a wolf.” The relief when he lets go is

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slides slowly down my neck, between my breasts, and rests gently against my belly, pushing in, before sliding a little farther to cup between my thighs

of my body anymore. Everything is dark around the edges, but his

defect, Ava. It won’t be too hard to use you.” He groans, rocking faster against me, pulling my legs around his hips. “Fuck, Ava. I’m going to breed you until you learn your place,