Why Can't It Be Mine Novels & Stories

The vulnerability in her tone only fueled the possessiveness surging through me. I brushed a strand of hair away from her face, my thumb lingering against her cheek. “I want you to be mine,” I said simply. “In every way that matters. I want you, Kasmine. All of you.” She shook her head weakly, her gaze dropping to the floor. “That’s not possible,” she murmured, “It can’t be. You know that. Society would never accept this. Mum. Dad. Everyone will see this as a taboo.”

"From the market. It's specific — I'm not sure they'll have it but I need it today." I described something I was entirely certain didn't exist. Charles listened with the patience of a man who had been doing this a very long time. "I'll do my best, madam." "Take your time," I said. "There's no rush." He nodded once and left. I counted his footsteps down the corridor. Heard the distant sound of the front door. Then I moved. The door was locked. Of course it was. I stared at the iron ring that didn't turn and felt the frustration move through me hot and fast. I crouched down. Examined the lock. Old. Heavy. Not something a credit card was going to solve.

One conversation from the wrong person and everything would fall apart. I thought briefly about not taking her. The thought lasted maybe four seconds before I shut it down completely. She’d earned that invitation. Monochrome’s name was on it. Her name was on it. I’d seen her face when she held both cards on the coffee table. I wasn’t telling her not to go. I couldn’t do that without explaining why. And explaining why meant explaining everything. I was cornered and I’d been cornered since yesterday morning. I’d been keeping myself busy enough not to sit properly with it till now.

This woman is mine. And I've claimed what's mine. The End.

my heart breaks as I look at my mate. How can I fix this?

I cannot understand how in the world, how exactly in the world someone gets the right to treat me in this manner. I have these powers that I'm supposed to have capability on. There's this power that I have and yet I cannot use it to do anything. Because I feel like I'm held bound by this stupid bracelet. How can one object do this to me? How can one object stop me from participating in the full force that I know I'm supposed to participate in. “No. I know very well to myself that I'm not supposed to be in this.” I'm not supposed to be here. I'm supposed to fight for myself.

Quit looking for her. ‘What!’ I howled. ‘She’s mine. If I can’t have her, then no one will.’

It was clear that he was just as perplexed by the question as I was for the answer. He couldn't fathom why he felt so strongly towards me, especially when he was supposed to despise me. His confusion was clear, evident in the furrow of his brows as he pondered my question. Then, after a few moments of contemplation, his response was both unexpected and possessive. "It's because you're mine," he declared, his voice low and intense. "Anything that falls under my domain and is under my control automatically becomes my possession, and i don'tallow anyoneto touch it except me."

How could I, in good conscience steal what is rightfully the real Paisley’s, and how could I be with this beautiful man when no matter how much I wish it to be- he’s not mine. And I’m not his.

“Why are you doing this?” Alexis smiled as if I had just asked her something obvious. “Can't you tell? I want Owen. He was mine. Should be mine.” “But he doesn’t love you” I said gently, hoping she would listen. “No” she admitted, “not at the moment. But he used to. He will again. I just need to remove the obstacle.” “You’re referring to me.” I said it flatly. “Yes, sweetheart. I am.” My gut tightened. “Even if I disappear Owen will never marry you. Not after this. He’ll know.”