“You can’t keep doing this to me. Not anymore.” I said, my voice breaking a little. He looked at me with furious expression and I knew this time I seriously pissed him off. But I’m not going to apologize, not now. “You are mine. Not his!” he yelled, eyes black, just like his soul. “You don’t want me.” I weakly whispered as a traitorous tear slipped down my cheek. “I do want you, and the thought of anyone else having you is like a knife twist in my dark soul.” Suddenly the warmth filled my body as I felt him cup my cheek. And then his lips came crashing down on me and I swear at that moment I was an earthquake in my own body. ------ Emory parker loved the idea of mates. Until he found his.