Filed to story: Tangled in Moonlight Unshifted Novel by Lenaleia
Rubbing her ears, I ask as casually as possible, “And
Lucas’ wolf?”
Selene jerks her head away with a sharp snort. I don’t talk to the unworthy.
Ouch.
***
I wake up to the sound of Selene’s excited yips and the thump of her tail against the bed frame. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I peer over at her lounging on the couch, watching the same cheesy shifter romance, but this time on the bedroom TV.
“Morning, you lazy mutt,” I grumble, throwing a pillow in her general direction. She dodges it easily, not even bothering to look away from the screen.
Good morning sunshine, she replies, her tone dripping with sarcasm. Sleen well?
“Well enough to know that show is garbage,” I shoot at her, before heading into the bathroom for a shower.
As I’m drying off, my phone chimes with a new text message. It’s from Ivy, asking if I’m free to go shopping with her today. I grimace, not exactly thrilled at the prospect.
You should go, Selene’s voice echoes in my mind. It’ll be good for you to get out of the apartment for a bit. Don’t give up what freedom you can get.
“I don’t know,” I murmur, typing out a noncommittal response. “Ivy kind of makes me uncomfortable sometimes.”
A little while later, there’s a knock at the door. I open it to find Ivy standing there, looking impeccably put together as always. She gives me a onceover, taking in my ratty tshirt and sleep shorts.
“Good, you’re ready,” she says breezily, brushing past me into the apartment. “I took the liberty of picking out an outfit for you.”
She holds up a garment bag, unzipping it to reveal a silky turquoise blouse and lightweight gray pants. My eyes widen when I spot the pair of heels peeking out from the bottom.
“Ivy, you already brought me clothes yesterday,” I protest weakly. “And I don’t really wear heels.”
“Nonsense.” She waves a dismissive hand. “You’ll look great. Now go get changedthe car is waiting downstairs.”
Even without the clothes… I never once agreed to go shopping, did I?
I check my phone, and the text. Nope, didn’t agree. Said I wasn’t sure what I was planning on doing today.
I guess she took that as an invitation to make the decision for me.
Knowing there’s no use in arguing, I take the outfit and head for the bathroom, dressing quickly. The blouse is loose and flowing, but the pants cling to my legs in a way that makes me feel exposed. And the heels… I wobble precariously, using the counter for support.
When I emerge, Selene lets out a low whistle. Looking good, pup. You clean up nicely.
I shoot her a glare, but Ivy seems pleased. “Much better. Here, put these on-” and she tosses a few accessories at me, statement pieces that probably cost. more than my annual salary, “-and grab your things. and let’s go! We’ve got a full day ahead of us.”
Reluctantly, I follow her out of the apartment, leaving my burner phone behind. I don’t want to risk Ivy seeing it and asking questions. As we step out onto the sidewalk, a sleek black sedan idles at the curb, the driver hopping out to open the door for us.
“Where are we going, exactly?” I ask as we slide into the plush leather seats.
Ivy gives me a conspiratorial grin. “You’ll see. Just sit back and let me take care of everything.” Then she looks me over with some suspicion. “You don’t have a purse?”
I shrug. “I was kidnapped, remember? Aside from my house keys, phone, and some cash for a ride, I didn’t have anything on me at the time. I leave my purse at home a lot.” A habit I’d learned after being routinely mugged by members of my own pack. Getting a replacement ID is hard enough; trying to convince my parents to take me to get one increases the difficulty by way too much.
I carry cash and leave my identification at home. I might be screwed if I’m ever pulled over, but I’ve never had to show my ID for anything outside of getting hired or signing up for college, so I take my risks.
“Oh, right. There was something like that, wasn’t there?” Ivy muses. “Well, let’s get you a purse anyway.
Accessories make the outfit, Ava.”
I feel a bit like I’m being prepped for some kind of final exam as Ivy drags me from store to store, explaining trending fashion in a way that goes over my head. The driver trails a few steps behind us, dutifully collecting the mounting pile of shopping bags and ferrying them. out to the car at regular intervals.
At the first boutique, Ivy immediately starts pulling dresses and blouses off the racks, holding them up against me to assess the fit.
“This one’s cute,” she declares, adding a floral sundress to the growing pile over her arm. “And this too. Oh, and we simply must get you this top…”
Before I know it, the salesgirl is ushering me into the dressing room with an armload of clothes. I spend what feels like hours trying on outfit after outfit, parading out for Ivy’s critical eye.
“Hmm, I don’t love that one,” she says, wrinkling her nose at a slinky black dress. “Next.”
I obediently retreat back behind the curtain, shimmying out of the dress and into a pair of high waisted trousers and a silk camisole. When I reemerge, Ivy claps her hands delightedly.
“That’s the one! You look so chic. We’ll take it. Actually, just keep it on. It looks better than what I brought over.”
This Ivy is so different from the Ivy I’ve been treated to up to this point, and I’m dizzy with whiplash.
The process repeats at what seems like a dozen different stores throughout the afternoon. Shoes, dresses, blouses, skirts, pants… by the time we hit the fourth boutique, I’m fairly certain I’ve tried on more outfits today than I have in my entire life.
My feet are screaming in protest from the endless parade of heels Ivy insists I model. I’m parched from barely having a chance to grab a bottle of water.
But Ivy seems to be having the time of her life, reveling in her role as personal shopper and stylist. She flits around me like a deranged fairy godmother, clucking over hemlines and admiring how certain colors bring out my eyes.
“You have such a great figure, Ava,” she gushes as I selfconsciously smooth my hands over my hips in a skintight black pencil skirt. “We simply must get you some things to show it off properly.”
I force a tight smile, feeling distinctly uncomfortable under her appraising stare. Revealing clothes have never been my thingI much prefer loose, flowy fabrics that skim over my curves rather than clinging to them.
At one point, I try to politely extricate myself, suggesting we take a break to grab a bite to eat. But Ivy merely waves a dismissive hand.
“Oh, there’s no need. I had the driver pick up some protein bars and smoothies. Here, have one of these.”
She tosses me some sort of chalkylooking nutrition bar from her purse.
I eye it dubiously but take a small bite, grimacing at the gritty, tasteless lump. So much for lunch.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity of shopping torture, Ivy seems satisfied with her haul. We pile back into the sleek sedan, and I sink gratefully into the plush leather seat, massaging my sore arches.
“Well?” Ivy prompts expectantly as the driver pulls away from the curb. “What did you think? Wasn’t that fun?”
I shoot her a sidelong glance, too worn out to muster much enthusiasm. “It was an experience.”
She laughs lightly, patting my knee in a disturbingly condescending way. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. Just think of all the other fun things we can do together now!”
I bite back a groan as Selene’s smug voice echoes in my head. Well, I for one have had a delightful day lounging on the couch and watching my shows. No uncomfortable shoes or pretentious boutiques for me.
Ivv chatters away beside me, oblivious to my silent exchange with my wolf companion. I’ve learned the art of tuning her out while still nodding and making vague affirming noises at regular intervals to keep the conversation flowing.
“…and the little place I’m taking you to is simply divine. The chef is an absolute genius. You’ll love it.”
“Mmm,” I murmur absently, gazing out the window. The city is behind us, and we’re driving through a quiet suburb.
Rows of identical houses with perfectly manicured lawns and white picket fences stretch out as far as the eye can see. It’s like a postcard image of the American dream.
Ivy is still prattling on about the trendy new restaurant she’s taking me to, but I’ve long since tuned her out. That is, until the driver’s gruff voice cuts through her ceaseless chatter.
“Ma’am, we’re being tailed. One car, a blue sedan.”
I sit up a little straighter, instinctively glancing behind us.
Ivy finally falls silent, craning her neck to peer out the rear window with a frown.
“Are you certain?” she demands, a hint of impatience. coloring her tone.
The driver doesn’t respond. Instead, he hits the brakes. hard, the tires of our luxury sedan shrieking in protest. My body lurches violently against the restraints of my seatbelt as the car swerves, the momentum nearly whipping my head to the side.
In the front, a sleek blue sedan has pulled across the road, blocking our path entirely. There’s a split second where everything seems to move in slow motionthe acrid scent of burnt rubber, Ivy’s sharp inhalation of breath, the driver’s shouting.
Then everything explodes into chaos.
Our car spins wildly, the force slamming me against. the door with bruising intensity. Ivy, who hadn’t bothered to fasten her seatbelt, isn’t so lucky. Her head cracks against the window with a sickening thud, and she immediately goes limp, crimson blooming across her temple,
Two car accidents in less than two weeks? My luck is shit.
“Ivy!” I scream, my voice drowned out by the deafening blare of the car horn as the driver frantically wrestles with the steering wheel.