Fin's Claim

The Beginning

Finian POV

Entwining

Connecting

Cementing

She's in my binding embrace, teeth in deep, her body quivers against mine. Holding her naked flesh, fingers digging into the soft spot of her hips, a soft moan in my ear that's inviting.

Her hands on my shoulders as if she needs my support in this moment.

Sealing her neck with a tongue that surprisingly wants to lick more of her.

Stepping away while her soul opens to me.

Who she really is, the layers peeling back, exposing them for my eyes only. Flashes of memory, of things long ago buried to move forward. I want to see what she has buried deep inside herself.

A small pup maybe seven, neglected, dirty hair, unwashed body, too many bruises in various stages of healing littering her body that doesn't heal fast without a wolf essence inside. The split lip that makes it hard to put the food in her mouth that's from the garbage outside, she has gotten used to the taste of maggots on rotten food.

A pain in her stomach, she's always hungry at this age. Watching her greedily shoving the half eaten sandwich in her mouth until her cheeks are chipmunked out. The only thought this small little pup is having while looking nervously around is, she's thankful to the moon for providing her with such a feast tonight.

Moving on from this because I can't watch it any longer, I can't look at this small little girl scavenging for something she should have been provided with.

Another memory bombards me, forcing itself inside for my eyes to see. Her father dragging her to a fire, his hand clutching an old blanket that has holes in it. Victoria's childlike voice pleading with him, begging him with tear filled eyes, "please, don't." He looks at her, watching as he throws her blanket into the fire, her protector at night when the storms come, her shield when he rages at her. The smell of it as it rubs against her swollen face was the only softness she has known since birth. Her tiny legs give out as she watches her blanket burn. Tears in silence trail down her face mixing with the blood from her nose falling on a shirt that's threadbare. Another sharp slap to a face that is so used to a heavy hand, she flinches away but still looks on while the blanket is reduced to nothing.

Her blanket

She's left there on the hard ground, she doesn't move. Just a rock to her body, it's as if she's rocking herself, holding herself in this moment because no other wolf moves to help her. Instead, all she gets from the wolves around the fire is their laughter. Looking up with the bluest eyes I have ever seen, she asks the moon in her child like mind what's so wrong with me that I can't be loved?

She's a wolf that was made in love, now raised in hate.

Another image popping up, a shifted young juvenile wolf getting circled by other juveniles. She's on the defensive, yet she doesn't cower down, no bellying up for her, she has never tucked tail. Holding her ground with a snarl, they come at her then in groups because individually they can't face her wrath.

A wolf raised with hate becomes the most hated.

This is not what I expected to see, I don't want to see this. Flashing memories too quick to see shuffle around, Grey's face flashing. Holding that though I get to look at them.

A juvenile Victoria looking into my brother's eyes with trust, with a different kind of hope that she never thought possible.

She's in love with him.