He's Mine Not Yours Cast Novels & Stories

I looked up into his face — this face that had no business existing, sharp jaw, dark eyes burning into mine — and I refused to be the first one to look away. "Correction." His voice was quiet enough that it lived only between us. "You are mine. Only mine. No one else gets to claim you. No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to even look at you the way I do." He didn't blink. "Be a good girl, Rose. And I will burn the entire world down and hand you the ashes." The silence stretched tight between us. Then I lifted my chin. "Fine." His eyes narrowed slightly.

“What do you even want from me?” His eyes locked onto mine. Dark. Intentional. Consuming. “YOU.” The word hit harder than I expected. Zayne lifted a hand, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear with dangerous gentleness. His knuckles barely grazed my cheek, and the softness of it made my pulse trip. His fingers slipped under my chin, tilting it up slightly but I looked away not wanting to make eye contact. “You’re mine,” he whispered. My breath broke. My voice cracked. “I’m not yours.”

He explains himself. Damn him and his heartmelting words. " Don't make me start to consider buying more of that colour." " I wouldn't mind." He says, kissing my hand. " Sure you won't." I say sarcastically. " I've given you kisses as well." I continue to remind him. " But you didn't let me mark what's mine." He complains. " Nope, I'm not going to let you give me a bloody hickey. Forget it dude." I shake my head.

He isn't my boyfriend, and he isn't mine, but I can't help the venom pushing its way up my throat. "Hayden is taken—find your own merman."

I felt his arm tighten around me as he rasped his next words against the shell of my ear. “You should belong to me, Eleanor.” He breathed thickly, “not to him, not to anyone else, me. You are mine, Eleanor. MY MATE.” I scoffed, an unamused laugh escaping my lips even as my heart hammered against my ribs. “I don’t belong to you or him or to anyone. I belong to myself,” I declared, ignoring the slight tremor in my voice. A low growl rumbled from his chest, one I felt more than heard from where my body was still pressed firmly against his.

‎Cold. ‎“She’s yours?” I ask quietly. ‎He stops pacing. ‎Faces me. ‎“Yes. She’s mine.” ‎The words land like a match on gasoline. ‎I stand slowly. ‎He doesn’t back up. ‎Brave. ‎Stupid. ‎I step around the desk. ‎Closer. ‎Closer. ‎Until I’m in his face. ‎Until he has to look up to hold my stare. ‎“She was mine first,” I say, voice low and deadly. “She’ll be mine last.”

"You seem to be fond of this place, so I'll give this to you." "That doesn't mean that I want to have this!" I reasoned out. "You can have it." he smirked as if it was just candy being handed out. “No, Hugh. I don’t need this. These are all yours. ” "And what's mine is yours." he said as a matter of fact tone. "And meanwhile, I don't have anything to you." I hissed. "You are mine and you are more than enough."

she whispered, her voice barely a breath, a plea. “You’re mine, Daisy,” he said, his voice a low growl. “And I don’t like it when others get close to what’s mine. I hate sharing.” His words were a primal declaration, a stark claim of ownership. “I… I didn’t do anything.” she protested. “No, but you just don’t seem to get it.” His breath was hot against her ear, sending shivers down her spine, raising goosebumps on her skin. “You don’t get that you’re mine.” His breath was hot against her ear.

Snow's mother was waiting for her daughter at the front of their house when she and Kelvin arrived. “Mrs. Wright, I have delivered your daughter as I promised. Now, it is time for me to head home.” Kelvin said. Snow passed by her mom without a word, and she was about to enter the house when Kelvin called her name. “What?” She said. “I will find proof that he is not the guy for you, and he's not as righteous as you think.” Kelvin declared. “Then who is my Mr. Right? You?” Snow asked before bursting into laughter, then entered her home.

He pulled a book from the nearest shelf without looking at the title and opened it to a random page, letting his eyes skim over words that refused to form meaning. "You're the new one." The voice came from his left. Marcus looked up. A young person sat cross-legged on the couch beside him, androgynous and striking, with close-cropped silver hair and eyes so pale they were almost colorless. They wore loose linen pants and an oversized sweater that hung off one shoulder, revealing a collarbone sharp enough to cut. Their feet were bare, toenails painted black. "I'm Juno." They said it without smiling, studying Marcus with the intensity of someone reading fine print. "Room 214. Been here six wee