30 Days Of Night 3 Novels & Stories

belly, whispering, “It’s okay, little one. We don’t need him. We’ll be just fine.”Three Days LaterLuna sat in her small apartment, curled up on the couch with her knees pulled to her chest. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second stretching longer than the last.The phone rang, and she jumped. Her hands trembled as she picked it up. “Hello?”“Miss Luna,” a cool, professional voice said. “This is Mr. Cross’s office. He’d like you to come to his estate immediately.”“His estate?” she repeated, confused.“Yes. Mr. Cross has requested your presence this evening. A car will pick you up shortly.”The line went dead before she could argue.Luna stared at her phone, her heart pounding. Why did h

And a man who makes her think. She fell asleep with a small smile. Thirty days. She had thirty days to become the perfect fucker. The next sessions would test her. She did not know it yet. But her whole world was about to change.

We are both different people now. My evening is taken up making sure everything is ready for the morning whilst Taylor works late in London. I suggested he stay up in the city and I could meet him after my day with Mum, but he insisted he would drive back down. I am half asleep when I hear his footsteps on the stairs. I track his movements sleepily by the sounds he makes as he pads around the flat: first the shower; then the kitchen, where I hear water running; and then soft footsteps as he enters the bedroom. The bed dips as he climbs in and I feel his strong arms pull me into his chest. Soft lips graze my cheek and I hear him whisper, “Goodnight, Abs,” before falling into a deep, dreamless

"I'll go. I just want thirty days first." He looked at me like I'd said something in a language he didn't quite speak. "Thirty days. For what?" "For me." I set the dish towel down on the counter. Turned off the stove. The pasta water stopped boiling. "You owe me that much, Ethan. Thirty days, you act like my husband properly, the way you promised and then I'll sign whatever you need and I'll disappear, no mess, no drama, I promise." He was quiet for a long moment. Calculating.

"No. I swear. Absolutely not." Seeing that she was still lying, my heart continued to sink. Suddenly, I didn't want to say another word. I turned and went upstairs. In the middle of the night, the vibration of a phone woke Claire. She called my name twice. Seeing that I appeared to be asleep, she grabbed her car keys and quietly left. In the darkness, I opened my eyes and followed her. I needed to know how many things there still were that I didn't know. An hour later, her Maybach pulled up outside a villa in Southbridge.

Would he have been able to? Day thirty of thirty. Zero to go.

RAMON 60 Days. 60 Days To make her fall Inlove. To marry her. And then finally, To kill her. The boss assigned me to her. She was my fifth assignment. And then I met her, and she was so fucking beautiful. So fucking perfect. Her dark eyes, her massive dark hair, her curves, her flawless skin... And I was supposed to kill her? I knew this was going to be hard. But what I didn't know, is how hard I would fall for her as each day passed.

Paused. Turned back. “And Lena?” She lifted her head. His smile was slow. Dark. Promising. “This is only the first hour.” He opened the door. Stepped out. The lock clicked again. She was alone. Collared. Filled with his cum. Owned. And already aching for the next time he walked back in. Thirty days. Twenty-nine left. And she knew. She would beg for every single one.

"What aren't you saying?" The stranger looked at him. Then smiled. A genuinely unsettling smile. "The same thing you're not saying." Alina's eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?" The stranger took a slow step backward. The shadows seemed to swallow him with every movement. Before disappearing completely, he spoke one final sentence. A sentence that made both Alina and Adrian freeze. "Thirty days isn't enough." Alina frowned. "Enough for what?" The stranger's smile widened. Then he delivered the words that shattered the little certainty she had left.

Then Theo said, very slowly, "Thirty days." "Yes." "As in one month." "That is what thirty days means, yes." He stared at me. I stared back at him. He looked down at his notepad, wrote something, looked back up at me. "Okay," he said, in the voice of a man who had decided he was simply not going to process this information right now and would deal with it at a later time. Kate raised her hand like we were in a classroom. "Ma'am, when you say thirty days, do you mean thirty days from today specifically or is that like a general ballpark kind of thirty?"