Unclaimed

Chapter One- Roots

I cut my hand again for the umpteenth time, hissing as I hold it with a dirty rag walking over to Thomas.

"Tommy?" I hold up my hand for him to see.

"Damn it Beau! I thought I told you to let me fix the rocking chair." He says. Quickly standing from his work station by the back door and walking over to the kitchen. His lanky form towering over me as he moved passed me. Grabbing my arm along the way and almost throwing me in front of the kitchen sink.

"Wash it off, soap and water."

I do as he instructs. My arms barely reaching the dish soap and knobs for the water.

"Is daddy coming to pick me up?" I ask. It's not the first time I've asked this question.

"He's uh-" Tommy's voice wavers before clearing his throat. "He's still got some business to take care of so he'll be another week."

My heart doesn't hurt to hear this. In fact I smile. "That's good." I say.

"Why?" He asks.

"Because I like being with you Uncle Tommy. I like it here." I say and smile up at his as I hold out my injured hand still dripping wet with water. "Can I stay forever?"

Tommy is silent. Finally he smiles, coming over to me and kneeling down as he wraps my hand in a clean rag.

"I would like that." He mumbles.

He sanitizes and bandages my hand. Patting it gently once's he's done.

"Can you teach me how to make cheese now?" I ask and he gives a bellowing laugh and lifts me onto his hip. Holding me and my hand reaches up to play with his long greying beard. His salt and pepper hair tied back into a low ponytail. Clear bright brown eyes, and wrinkles all over his face. The smile lines round his mouth, and eyes. Tracing around his cheeks and between his eyebrows.

"Yes Little one, I will teach you to make cheese." He says and slowly moves to the back door.

"And wine!"

"You're seven, you're too young for wine. But in due time, sure." He nods and I lean my head on his shoulder. Savoring the safety in his arms.

"Ok."

~Fourteen Years Later~

I knock on the door and wait patiently on the porch for someone to open.

I never liked coming home. It was never really home to begin with. My family's pack never were welcoming to outsiders. As I've been an outsider for damn near my whole life, they see me as some sort of stray cat. An abandoned animal who only comes home when they need something.

If only they knew my one desire was to stay away, but the rules don't allow that. Until I'm mated or claimed my family still has jurisdiction over me.

My mother opens the door. Her face nailed into an empty stoic expression. Her deep brown hair tied into an elegant updo, and dressed in an evening gown that swept against the floor, its white silver color catching the last rays of the sun. She was glowing, the dress hugging her gentle curves as it fell into a delicate pool. Her décolletage exposed and the sleeves hung off her shoulder with a boat neckline. She looked beautiful.

"Isabeau. You're here. What took you so long?" She says and steps aside to let me in.

"The train was delayed." I said giving the empty half assed excuse I always gave.

"The train is always delayed." She says and lets the door slam behind her.

"Petra, who's at the door?" My fathers voice booms from upstairs. Standing in the foyer, looking around a house I was never welcome in.