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.

wasn’t positive I were her child by birth,

The title of Luna is not for the likes of you. You’ll

keep the bitter resentment from showing on my

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,

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Ava: Sister Miriam

will bear his children. That is the extent

puppet on strings. My mind, however, is already spinning,

me the freedom to return to the Aspen pack, I’ll contact Lisa. We’ll run far away from the suffocating confines of this stupid pack and their twisted expectations.

older woman with an elegant bearing and a bright, unsettling gleam in her eyes enters the room.

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

look of respect crossing her features. “Sister Miriam,” she greets the stranger. “What an honor to have you grace us with your presence.”

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Ava: Sistor Miriam (1)

is

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

hackles, they’d

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

what she is.

tense. She’s affected, too. “Alpha Renard said you would be able to see if our Ava is

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

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

stops by my side, meeting my eyes again in the

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Ava: Sister Miriam

teeth too white. It looks unnatural on her face, as though no

sweet in a way that should be soothing, and yet paired with her face,

contact. It’s like my skin burns. where she touches, but when I try to jerk away, she grips my chin hard, inspecting

eyes.

go to trail her hand down my neck, across my collarbone, down my chest and finally coming to rest on my

Tenderness?”

“No.”

flinch. Though her hands are cold, an unwelcome heat