Jealousy Incarnate Novels & Stories

Not with him. They looked too comfortable. The laugh came again, light, almost grateful, and something inside me went taut. My hands trembled against my sides. My wolf surged, pressing against my ribs, demanding, restless. MINE. The word wasn’t thought. It was instinct, cutting deep, branding itself into the marrow. Jealousy poured through me like poison. It hollowed my chest, made it hard to breathe. But why!? Why would I be jealous if Riven laughs with another guy?

"He’s the strongest of them all. And the most handsome.” “I’d still let him do whatever he likes with me—” I clench my teeth as Jealousy flares sharp and ugly in my chest, catching me off guard. Not desire—never that. Something darker. Something possessive. The idea of them whispering about him, imagining him, claiming him in fantasies— It makes my skin itch. I hate myself for it. I don’t know this man. I don’t care about this man. I don’t fall for names whispered in gossip circles like some foolish girl with stars in her eyes.

It left me clean and shaky and angrier than before. Jealousy is hunger with a smart mouth. It tells me to bite my way back to his attention. It tells me to walk into his war room and put my throat in his hand and remind him I am the promise that bleeds the same. It tells me to get loud. He hates when I get loud when the pack can hear; it makes him a man instead of a myth and he hates being the only man in front of those who need him to be weather.

A strange, foreign feeling. Jealousy.

But the sight of her with another man, even in this innocuous setting, still stirred a primal jealousy within me. I spent the rest of the evening battling my own emotions, struggling to maintain a facade of composure while my insides churned with a mixture of fear and possessiveness. I knew I had to let her go, to let her live her life, to trust that she would always come back to me. But it was a difficult lesson to learn, especially when my heart felt like it was breaking with every shared laugh, every stolen glance. The sight of Alexa laughing with Dr. Jeremy, her face lit up with genuine amusement, was a physical blow. Every shared joke, every fleeting touch, felt like a betrayal. Jealous

_*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> His jealousy was still there. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> But it was changing shape in the knowledge's light. He looked at it directly and found that it was not the jealousy of a man who had been robbed of something that belonged to him. It was the jealousy of a being who had been given something beautiful and had not known what it was and had not tended it in the way it needed to be tended and had watched someone else tend it with the care and the seeing that he had not managed, and the jealousy was really grief, was the specific grief of recognizing your own failure clearly and completely and without the comfortable armor of your own rightness.

Jealousy surged within me, an uncontrollable fire threatening to consume my senses. My grip tightened on the steering wheel as I watched them, my mind inundated with irrational thoughts. I wanted to storm into that restaurant, to pull Lyza away from that man and claim her as my own. It pained me to see her with another, even though we had not yet established a formal relationship. The possessiveness within me reared its ugly head, a primal instinct that yearned to mark her as mine. In the depths of my jealousy, I found myself engaging in a heated conversation with myself, my voice tinged with possessiveness and longing.

"Even if you pissed me off, I'll let it go." But as I watched from the other side of the screen, I felt nothing. My heart was a barren wasteland. See? He knew everything. He just thought he could keep pushing because he believed I'd always love him no matter what. Rita, convinced I was truly dead, turned all her rage over Milton's sudden absence onto me. The texts she sent were venomous. "Even in death, you're still trying to steal my man? Clearly, skinning you and blowing you up wasn't cruel enough."

Jealousy and doubt twisted in my chest while his parents and Missy gushed over her, amazed at how long it had been since they’d last seen her. Even as they sat side by side at the table, the way his eyes lingered on her, and the subtle way his body leaned just slightly in her direction, felt like a relentless drill. I could feel heat creeping up the back of my neck, my ears burning as if someone had whispered a forbidden secret. My fingers trembled under the table, betraying the jealousy that twisted like a snake in my chest, coiling tighter with each stolen glance between them. I bit my lip hard, trying to contain the fiery ache that curled inside me, like an unwelcome guest refusing to lea

Maybe even too much. Heitor let out a bitter laugh. The kind that hurts more than any cry. “That phase is over. It’s unbearable, Alex. She has fits of jealousy almost every day. Last week she made me sleep on the couch because a resident called me a “cute doctor” in the elevator.” I took a long sip. It burned in my throat, but it wasn’t enough to erase the discomfort. “Jealousy is not love,” I murmured. “It’s insecurity disguised as possession.”