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, I would definitely

warns me, still yanking 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

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

her gaze. She’s almost manic in

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Ava: Sister Miriam

bear his children.

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

to the Aspen pack, I’ll contact Lisa. We’ll run far away from the suffocating confines of this stupid pack and

an elegant bearing and a bright, unsettling

human, either. Her eyes are a dark, glittering red and her hair is black without the faintest sheen of color in

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

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Ava: Sistor Miriam (1)

smile playing on her lips. They’re pale and thin. “The honor is mine, Grace. Alpha Renard requested my expertise in a delicate matter.” Her inhuman stare settles

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

had hackles, they’d

even to wolves. I can feel it, even

what she is.

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

to meet Sister Miriam’s probing stare. I don’t know what she can do that a

most skilled in detecting the earliest signs of breeding.

side, meeting my eyes

12

Ava: Sister

looks unnatural on her face, as

that should be soothing, and yet paired with her face,

me protesting the close contact. It’s like my skin burns. where she touches,

eyes.

my chest and finally coming to rest on my abdomen. “Tell me, have. you experienced

Tenderness?”

“No.”

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