9 Hours Novels & Stories

Looking straight into her delicate eyes, he casually said, “It’s already nine, but I’m on leave today. With that said, I’m accompanying you for the next twenty-four hours…” …W-what?! It was already nine?! And here she thought it was only seven due to how gentle the rays of sunlight were…!

A real party on wheels, in short. I glanced at the dashboard display. Total travel time: nine hours and seventeen minutes. Time elapsed: twenty-three minutes. Settling back in my seat, I tried to ignore the glare in my eyes and stared out the windshield. We stopped a couple of times for bathroom breaks and to grab some water or a snack, but we didn’t talk other than exchanging the most basic “You want a bottle too?” remarks.

They found themselves able to easily sustain a Promethean Merge for a full cycle, while only needing an hour of rest. The Admiral had noted that there were diminishing returns after those ten hours had been achieved. “Our physiology simply can’t handle more than that,” she lectured. “I’ve been able to do ten hours for some time now, and only recently was able to reach eleven. I haven’t determined the exact reason why. I hypothesize it’s just some biological limitations we all have.”

Levi Last Night The house felt too big. I sat on the front steps, staring at nothing. The gravel driveway stretched out into darkness. Security lights clicked on and off as moths tested their sensors. Somewhere in the distance, actual wolves howled. Not our kind. Real ones. Nine hours. That's what Cole had said. Nine hours minimum before they could gather the Western Packs for an emergency meeting. Nine hours while Ava was...

24 hours! You have got to be kidding me.

"We... we haven't located Mr. Adrian yet." A dangerous silence settled over the hallway. Killian slowly turned his head. "What did you say?" The guard visibly swallowed. "His room is empty." Aubrey felt the air leave her lungs. Empty? Killian's jaw tightened. "When was he last seen?" "Approximately thirty-seven minutes ago." Thirty-seven minutes. The precision of the answer somehow made everything worse. "Search every floor." "Already underway." "The underground garage." "Checked." "The wine cellar." "Checked."

Having his arms around me would’ve been a firm reminder that everything was going to be okay. Eventually, I fell asleep, and when I woke again, the sun was bright outside the window. I moaned as I turned to look at the clock, my muscles stiff and achy. It was almost noon. I’d been asleep for about nine hours. A lot can change around here in nine hours, so I shot out of bed, grabbing some clothes and heading for the shower. I had the idea that I had missed a few things, so I hurried through a quick shower and got dressed, putting my wet hair in a ponytail before I flew down the stairs.

Frost looked at his watch and replied softly, "Just three minutes." Bianca widened her eyes in surprise and whispered, "No way!" She felt like it had been a long, long time. Frost started to explain enthusiastically, "Research abroad has found that 7-13 minutes is the ideal duration." Bianca looked inexplicably at Frost, who, though handsome, also had a kind of silliness about him.

The clock had started. Twenty-four hours.

"Enough hours." "Yuki." He sat across from me, folding his hands on the table with the solemn energy of someone about to conduct an intervention. He was still in his morning robe, dark hair slightly disheveled, reading glasses pushed up on his forehead. He looked like a distinguished man who had decided that fatherhood was his most important executive position and he was going to bring the same intensity to it. "The human body requires seven to nine hours of quality sleep. Were you within that range?" "I was within a range." I said, picking up my chopsticks.