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.

child by birth,

and tugging, “Don’t let it go to your head. The title of Luna is not for the likes of you. You’ll be a mate in name only. It’s still an honor, but the pack

keep the

she presses, looking into the mirror so I’m forced to meet her gaze. She’s almost manic in her quest for my acquaintance. “This is your duty, your obligation to the pack.

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Sister Miriam (1)

his children. That is

on strings. My mind, however, is already spinning, formulating a plan to escape

to return to the Aspen pack, I’ll contact Lisa.

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

a wolf, but 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 highlights, adding to the

a look of respect crossing her features. “Sister Miriam,” she greets the stranger. “What

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Sistor Miriam (1)

honor is

skin. It’s hard

hackles, they’d

woman is a predator. She’s an existence that’s dangerous even to wolves. I can feel it, even if I

she

her cultured voice a little tense. She’s affected, too. “Alpha Renard

unable to meet Sister Miriam’s probing stare. I don’t know what she can do that a pregnancy test can’t this early on, and I’m not sure I

her footsteps soft as she approaches. “I am the most skilled in detecting the

by my side, meeting my eyes again

12

Ava: Sister Miriam

her teeth too white. It looks unnatural on her face,

for concern, child,” she says. Her voice is sweet in a way that should be soothing,

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

eyes.

down my chest and finally coming to rest on my

Tenderness?”

“No.”

hands are cold, an unwelcome heat eats at my