Favorite Possession Novels & Stories

“You don’t have to repay me. I did it because I like you and Mark. He deserves to be happy. This tradition of Wolf Fang should be eliminated. This is old school.” “You’re right. It’s like testing the Moon Goddess.” “Don’t worry, Mark will protect you. I’ll be here when the time comes.” “I heard that Gabriel was calling Mark every time you’re here.” “That punk is getting on my nerves.” “You can’t blame him. I can see how much he loves you.” “Mark is like my brother, Kayden is my best friend, and you are my friend too. I don’t know why need to be jealous of all of you.”

I think it is one of the memories I had forgotten, but what is the reason why I sold it? "You have an attack one day, and your parents plan to bring you abroad for treatment, and since Alex and I will go with you and we don't know when we come back, you sell the unit," Jason answered my unspoken question. "Is there a possibility I can get it back? That place is important to me." I felt a tug in my heart just thinking about my old place. I wondered why, but it felt like that place held some memories I had forgotten. Maybe when I stay there again, it can help me regain my lost memories.

Pens. I have four major obsessions in life that I can’t help but hoard, but pens are my favorite. Each pen tells a story the owner abandoned once their ink or purpose ran out. I guess I identify with them. A little too much. So I care for them, give them a home, so they don’t feel used and discarded. Fountain pens. Ballpoints. Markers. Fineliners. Even a quirky set of glitter gel pens shaped like cartoon characters that I refuse to part with. They’re not clutter. They’re me.

Logan was already opening his luggage, handing Israel his gifts when I walked in. “Mom! Look at what Dad bought me!” Israel exclaimed, proudly displaying his new toy cars. “They’re nice,” I said quietly, then sat on the couch. Logan handed Israel a small box and told him to give it to me. Inside was a beautiful, expensive necklace—exactly my taste. But I couldn’t remember the last time my husband had bought me anything out of love. Everything seemed calm. Logan looked pleased. I felt… peaceful. Until my phone rang. I reached for it instinctively, but Logan’s voice cut through the air sharply.

“I can see you sitting here, in the daylight, perusing a few incredibly sentimental adore story like Jane Eyre, on an overstuffed chair. You’ll require a table to hold your tissues, since you’re a sucker for broken heroes and upbeat endings.” He moved to the corner where a somewhat unpleasant statue of war figures stood four feet tall. “Over here you’d have something lavish, something you found at a scavenge deal that was one degree over rubbish, but you couldn’t bear to see it turn to waste. Perhaps a discolored birdcage or a broken granddad clock that ticks but never chimes. Anything it is, you cherish it, since no one else may and it’s furtively your favorite question in the room.”

“A gift? This early in our marriage? Should I be worried?” “Maybe,” he said with a faint smirk, but his eyes were serious. She took the object and unwrapped it slowly. Inside was a delicate gold necklace with a single black diamond pendant. It sparkled like ink under moonlight—beautiful, sharp, dangerous. “It was my mother’s,” he said softly. Elana’s breath caught. “Why give it to me?” “Because I want you to know this isn’t just about appearances anymore,” he said. “I meant what I said. I won’t take what you won’t give. But I won’t stop showing you I’m not the monster you think I am.”

After several moments, she stepped out of the shower, quickly drying off, the towel slipping from her shoulders as she made her way to the wardrobe across the room. She paused when her eyes caught a flash of white—a dress hanging there, untouched. A white dress hanging in her wardrobe caught her eye. She hesitated, staring at it, remembering when Peter had convinced her to buy it. How she’d hesitated, then caved to his persuasive smile. He’d told her it would be the perfect outfit for a night out—something that would make her feel beautiful. The memory flared—a flash of laughter, the way the fabric felt between her fingers, Peter’s easy charm lighting up the room. At the time, she’d had no i

She was really testing his patience. “Tell me about yourself, Gabriella.” He seethed, trying to control his brewing anger. Gabriella sighed, tired of all the orders he kept barking at her. How was she going to survive an entire year with this insufferable man- she wondered. “I have no family, as you already know, my best friend’s name is Khloe, my favorite color is purple, and I love small dogs, roses, and dark chocolate.” Alexander listened attentively as she listed facts about herself, hanging on every word.

His breath was hot, smelling of cedarwood and iron. "This is a repossession. Your father put you up as collateral, and I’m here to collect interest." He hauled me forward, slamming my back against the heavy office door. The wood was cold and unforgiving, biting through my thin blazer. He crowded me, his massive frame pinning me. I felt small. Hunted. And to my absolute shame, a treacherous warmth pooled between my legs. "You like this, don't you? The violence of it." He let go of my hair and shoved his hand under my skirt. He didn't go for buttons. He yanked the lace of my panties aside with a sharp snap.

"Don't you feel bad for him?" "No, not really. But I'm looking back and a lot of situations are making more sense. My memories are so full of Damon forcing me to be with him," he murmurs, looking away as he recalls those moments, "He has said multiple times, I'm his favorite toy. His favorite possession. His pet, even."