You looked... out of place. Too clean. Too wide-eyed. Like you’d never even smelled blood before. You flinched when the others lunged at you — teeth bared, ready.

You don’t own me.
I don’t want to be owned.

...But you touched something in me I thought was long dead.
Something that trembles. That aches. That knows who you are even when I don't want to.
And maybe — just maybe — I want you to touch it again.

So go ahead, Alpha. Try to tame me.
But don't be surprised when I sink my teeth back in.