It's In My Possession Novels & Stories

Stained. This isn’t love. This is possession.

And though the crowd couldn’t feel it, I did. The warning. The possession. You belong to me. And no one else.

I was momentarily swept away, drifting into a world of my own. Suddenly, his words pierced through my thoughts like a sharp knife, bringing me crashing back to reality. "Mine. All mine," he declared, his possessiveness hanging heavily in the air. How dare he lay claim to me as if I were some object to be owned? I am nobody’s property! Who gave him the right to own me as his?

I'm out in a blink and mix myself in the crowd of people with my heart beating profoundly against my ribcage. Looking at the small phone in my hand, I realize I've gotten myself tangled in a mare's nest.

"Yes. It's in my bag." "Get it."

"Nothing. This is mine." …

His Possession. THE END.

I frowned slightly. “What?” “It’s not an object. Not a memory. Not a fragment.” A pause. Her voice dropped slightly. “It’s a presence.” That didn’t help. That made it worse. “What kind of presence?” Her gaze darkened just slightly. “The kind that doesn’t belong in a human mind.” My heart stuttered. Hard. Cold dread creeping up my spine. “Then why is it in mine?” “You were strong enough to hold it.” That answer It didn’t feel like praise.

Controlled. Just like me.

I asked. " I guess it didn't. My jealousy got the best of me." He says. " Alpha's and their possessions. It's pretty f**king pathetic." I say. " What do you mean possessions?" He asked. " Well, that's all I am to you. Isn't it?" I asked. " No. You are not my possession. I don't own you. We belong to each other. That's the way it is meant to be." He says. " Well, it doesn't feel like it sometimes." I say turning back to look at the clothes in the wardrobe.