Your Husband Is Mine Novels & Stories

"I wouldn't even feel a thing if you were to take a billion, baby. That's how rich and powerful your husband is." Husband. "You're not my husband yet, Mr Vitali." He stared at me, then my ring finger, and nodded. "You'll be mine soon, Katherine Thawne and I promise you that not even God will be able to take you from me." TBC

" He fixes his eyes on mine. He does wanna talk about it and I don't care. I turn my eyes to Lisa. She shrugs her shoulders and shoves her hand in her pocket. "You can't do this every time," I say in anger. He smiles and tucks a lost strange away from my face, "I'm your husband," It infuriates me more, "You didn't own me," I snap. "One day! Your heart will belong to me, Sugar." The elevator opens. Lisa grips my hand and pulls me out, "Can't you see? He's so sweet." "You're my friend, Lisa." "Of course, I am." She giggles, "I can't let you lose him. I mean. Just look at your husband. Your. Husband." Her eyes are full of happiness.

Natasha tried to call out his name but the distant look over her husband's eyes was something she hadn't seen yet until now. “You’re mine. Everything about you, they’re all mine. Mine alone. Just mine.” He kept bubbling his possessiveness directly to her but his eyes were still looking beyond the present time. It was starting to worry his beloved wife.

“I don’t want him touching you, sleeping beside you, sharing the same room with you. You’re mine!” His words made my blood boil. “He’s my husband, not you!” I shouted back, my voice shaking. “You’re the third wheel here, not him. He has every right to touch me, to hold me, to f—” I stopped myself, my voice cracking. “He’s my husband. You have no right.” His eyes flashed red for a second, his wolf trying to take over. The temperature in the room seemed to drop. “You are mine,” he said again, slower this time, but with a tone that send shivers down my spine.

She tries to speak again—but I don't let her. My hand slides around her waist, my grip possessive, claiming her. I kiss her—right there, in front of everyone—long and hard. It's not about sweetness. It's about ownership. Let them all watch. Let them know. When I finally pull back, I keep my forehead pressed to hers. "You're my wife," I whisper. "Not a fantasy. Not a show. Mine. And I don't give a damn if it's a stage or a spotlight—no one looks at you like that but me."

he exclaims “It’s all I want, besides waking up next to you every morning. “ “I…” I exhale heavily, “The timing is really bad.” “Why?” “Because… I don't know. It’s too soon, and the company is still so new, and…” I run my hands in my hair, almost too forcefully and Dominic wraps his arms around my wrists. “Violet, look at me. “ I do and he says. “I love you. I have loved you all my life and I am the happiest person to be your husband. You are making me twice as happy now that we will be parents. There's no better timing for this. Any moment is great timing because I want us to have kids. “

“I am your wife.” I tenderly grasp her chin and lean in for a kiss. “Yes, but this time when I say it, it’ll actually be true. I am your husband, and I have the fire of loving you.” The End

My voice was soft, almost like a caress, but it carried an invisible force that seemed to squeeze the air out of the room. "As for that bag," I said, glancing at the luxury item on the counter, "could you please convey a very clear message to Arielle from me? Ask her to transfer exactly half of the money for that bag to my personal account. Even though it’s a gift from Lucian, the mating bond has not been called off yet. Under pack law and civil law, that money belongs to our collective marital property. It is half mine."

But the words stuck in my throat. The sound of footsteps made me look up. Keal. My husband. He walked into the dining room, his expensive suit perfectly pressed, his hair styled the way he always wore it. His eyes swept over the scene—his mother standing over me, his sister with her arms crossed, me on my knees surrounded by broken china. He saw me crying. I waited for him to say something. To ask if I was okay. To tell his mother to stop. But his face stayed completely blank.

Then she burst out laughing and shook her head. “Oh, girl,” she said. “You are in trouble.” I blinked. “What do you mean?” “I mean, you are in deep, deep trouble.” She pointed at me. “You just slept with your husband’s best friend, you said it was the best you have hand in a long time, and now he is staying in your pack house. You are not just in trouble — you are in a whole mess.” I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Because she was right.