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.

I wasn’t positive I were her child by

head. The title of Luna is not for the likes of you. You’ll be a mate in name

to maintain my composure, to keep the

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

12.46

C

Ava: Sister

will bear his children. That is

strings. My mind, however, is already spinning,

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

mother’s nagging monologue. An older woman with an elegant bearing and a bright, unsettling gleam in

glittering red and her hair is

Miriam,” she greets the stranger. “What an honor to have

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Sistor

Miriam inclines her head, a faint smile playing on her lips. They’re pale and thin. “The honor is mine, Grace. Alpha Renard requested my expertise in

prickles of unease over my skin. It’s

hackles,

existence that’s dangerous even to wolves. I can feel it, even

what she

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

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

“I am the most skilled in detecting the earliest signs of breeding. The alpha can rest assured that I will provide

by my side, meeting my eyes again in the

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Ava: Sister Miriam (1)

wide, her teeth too white. It looks unnatural on

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

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

eyes.

hand down my neck, across my collarbone, down my chest and

Tenderness?”

“No.”

hand presses firmly against my stomach, and I flinch. Though her hands are cold, an unwelcome