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

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 in name only. It’s still an

my composure, to keep the bitter resentment from showing on my

gaze. She’s almost manic in her quest for my

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Sister

and you will bear his children. That is the extent of your

mechanical, like a puppet on strings. My mind, however, is

Lisa. We’ll run

an elegant bearing and a bright, unsettling gleam in her eyes enters the room. She exudes

wolf, but she isn’t human, either. Her eyes are a dark, glittering red and her hair is black without the faintest sheen of color in its highlights, adding

Miriam,” she greets the

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Ava: Sistor

and thin. “The honor is mine, Grace. Alpha

skin. It’s hard

I had hackles, they’d

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

she

tense. She’s affected, too. “Alpha

Miriam’s probing stare. I don’t know what she can do that

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

by my side, meeting my eyes again in the

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Ava: Sister Miriam (1)

looks unnatural on her face, as though no other muscles

need for concern, child,” she says. Her voice is sweet in a way that should be soothing, and yet paired with her face, it’s terrifying. “I will be gentle.”

contact. It’s like my skin burns. where she touches, but when I try to jerk

eyes.

hand down my neck, across my collarbone, down my chest and finally coming to rest

Tenderness?”

“No.”

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