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.

by birth, I would definitely assume I’m

is not for the likes of you. You’ll be a mate in name only. It’s still an honor, but the pack can never

to maintain my composure, to keep the bitter

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

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Sister Miriam (1)

his children.

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

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

interrupting my 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

red and her hair is black without the

greets the stranger. “What an honor to have you grace us with

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Ava: Sistor

They’re pale and thin. “The honor is mine, Grace. Alpha Renard requested my

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

had hackles, they’d be standing.

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

what she

“Alpha Renard said you would

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

the

stops by my side, meeting my eyes

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Sister Miriam

is wide, her teeth too white. It looks unnatural on

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

shiver at the touch, something inside me protesting the close contact. It’s like my skin

eyes.

trail her hand down my neck, across my collarbone, down my chest and finally coming to rest on my abdomen. “Tell me, have. you

Tenderness?”

“No.”

I flinch. Though her hands are cold, an unwelcome