Tangled

69 Ava: Sister Miriam (I)

Mom’s fingers deftly twist and turn my hair, pinning it into some sort of elaborate style. Her touch is clinical, devoid of any maternal warmth, as she secures each lock into place with sharp tugs.

She’s been doing this for hours, trying to figure out the best style for the mating ceremony. The only comfort I have is in knowing she’ll never have the chance to dress me as planned.

“Honestly, Ava, couldn’t you have made more of an effort with your appearance?” she chides, as

disapproving as always. “Your hair is little better than a

rat’s nest.”

This is something she’s said at least three other times in the hour she’s been here. I bite back the retort that hovers on my tongue, knowing better than to provoke

her ire.

A musical jingle causes her to pause, and she checks something on her phone for a second, before returning to her project. “It’s a good thing your worth isn’t tied to your looks,” she continues, her words

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69 Ava: Sister Miriam (1)

cutting deeper than any physical blow. “You should be

grateful that Alpha Renard has deigned to mate with you, despite your deficiencies.”

There’s a little chip in the paint of the wall above the mirror, and my eyes are drawn toward it. It’s

something to focus on as I tune out her nagging and cruel remarks. For a woman who’s capable of so much love toward her older children, it’s amazing how much

vitriol she can throw at another.

by birth, I would definitely assume

tugging, “Don’t let it go to your head. The title of Luna is not for the likes of you. You’ll be a

a struggle to maintain my composure, to keep the bitter resentment

I’m forced to meet her gaze. She’s almost manic in her quest for my acquaintance. “This is your duty, your obligation to

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Ava: Sister

you will bear his children. That is

mind, however, is already

soon as Phoenix grants me the freedom to return to the Aspen pack, I’ll contact Lisa. We’ll run far away from the suffocating

door creaks open, interrupting my mother’s nagging monologue. An older woman with an elegant bearing and a bright, unsettling gleam in her eyes enters the room. She exudes an aura of authority that sends shivers through my

she isn’t human, either. Her eyes are a dark, glittering red and her hair is black without the faintest sheen of color in its

“Sister Miriam,” she greets the stranger.

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Ava: Sistor Miriam (1)

thin. “The honor is mine, Grace. Alpha Renard requested my expertise in a delicate matter.” Her

of unease over my skin. It’s hard to hold her

had hackles, they’d be

that’s dangerous even

she

cultured voice a little tense. She’s affected, too. “Alpha Renard said you would be able to

my gaze, suddenly unable to meet Sister Miriam’s probing stare. I don’t know

approaches. “I am the most skilled in detecting the earliest signs of breeding. The alpha can

meeting my

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Ava: Sister

smile is wide, her teeth too white. It looks unnatural on her face, as though no other muscles

is sweet in a way that should be soothing, and yet paired

touch, something inside me protesting the close contact. It’s like my skin burns. where she touches, but when I try to jerk away, she grips my

eyes.

down my neck, across my collarbone, down my chest and finally coming to rest on my abdomen. “Tell

Tenderness?”

“No.”

I flinch. Though her hands are cold, an unwelcome heat eats at my skin. It hurts.