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.

were her child by

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

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

looking into the mirror so I’m forced to meet her gaze. She’s almost manic in her quest for

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Sister Miriam

will bear his children. That

and mechanical, like a puppet on strings. My mind, however, is already spinning, formulating a plan to escape this waking nightmare.

the freedom to return to the Aspen pack, I’ll contact Lisa. We’ll run far away from the suffocating

woman with an elegant bearing and a bright, unsettling gleam in her

Her eyes are a dark, glittering red and her hair is black without the faintest sheen of color in its highlights, adding to the otherworldly presence

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

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Sistor

her lips. They’re pale and thin. “The honor is mine, Grace. Alpha Renard requested my expertise in a delicate

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

hackles, they’d be standing.

predator. She’s an existence that’s dangerous even

she is.

She’s affected, too. “Alpha Renard said you would be able to see

neck, and I avert my gaze, suddenly 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

am the most skilled in detecting the earliest signs of breeding. The alpha

stops by my side, meeting my eyes again in the

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Ava: Sister Miriam (1)

teeth too white. It looks unnatural on her face, as though no other muscles move with her mirth.

a way that should be soothing, and yet paired

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 jerk away, she grips my chin hard, inspecting me with calculating

eyes.

across my collarbone, down my chest and

Tenderness?”

“No.”

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