Seven Days Bl Novels & Stories

Leo chimed in from across the table, mimicking Clara’s dramatic tone as she complained loudly to a waiter about a floral arrangement being moved three centimeters. The light exchange broke the suffocating weight in my chest, but the comfort didn't last. Across the linen tablecloth, Dominic was watching us. His face was still white from exhaustion, his expensive designer watch conspicuously missing, but a cold, calculated glint had returned to his eyes. He rose from his chair, completely ignoring Clara's chatter, and walked straight over to our side of the table. He pulled out a small, faded yellow slip of paper—a banking receipt from a New York foreclosure branch dated exactly seven years ag

Afterward, he picked up his boxer shorts with his feet and then put it on in a flash. "Get out!" My eyelashes fluttered. I heard that wrong, didn't I? "Get out!" Seven repeated. At this moment, my breath hitched. I still couldn't believe my ears. "What did you say? I should get out? You are joking, right?" Seven's facial muscles tightened. His lips upturned in more disgust. "Do I look like a comedian to you? Get out of my sight, Winter! You disgust me!" His outburst cut my core. Daggers of pain sank into my heart. This can't be real! Seven can't be saying such words after having sex with me.

The moment Finnley spotted Felix, he stood up and reprimanded him loudly. As the younger generation, any disrespect from Finney might be forgiven, but Dominic had to maintain composure, especially now. A gentle breeze swept through, and the security guards stumbled backward several steps. Only then did everyone notice the elderly man standing two steps behind Felix—Seven, the head of Flair, founded by Averill. Without even lifting a finger, Seven had repelled the guards, showcasing an immense power that left the crowd in stunned silence.

As if on cue, the door was wrenched open from outside and Seven's somewhat disheveled figure appeared in the doorway. His shirt was untucked, and wrinkled hair stuck up at odd angles. He looked like he'd just rolled out of bed after a rough night, but his eyes were alert and wary, scanning the interior rapidly for any signs of injury. Serena's chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath. Her gaze darted between Seven, looking utterly defeated with his shoulders slumped and brow furrowed in a kicked-puppy expression of someone who had failed spectacularly at protecting what mattered most, and Knox as if searching desperately for answers to this sudden chaos that had shattered their inti

Both of them sported slacks with button up shirts and Seven wore a suit jacket. "It's great." Seven replied blandly with one hand in his pocket, his glass to his pink lips. "You don't sound great. What's eating you?" "Nothing." He shook his head. "I think you're lying. Don't lie to me. We're best friends." He gives his best friend a straight face. "Don't give me that face." Seven frowns. "I want you to know that I'm being serious. C'mon, tell me what's wrong?"

Despite his exhaustion, Zion pressed on as he was convinced that Chase would eventually falter. "Seventh Form!" he roared, unleashing a blade strike that seemed to split the heavens and earth. Yet even as the towering blade descended, Chase remained unmoved. With hands clasped behind his back, he stood still and made no effort to dodge or block the attack. An arm fell to the ground, blood splattering everywhere. Zion's eyes widened in utter disbelief as he stared at the scene. His most powerful strike had severed an arm, but it was not Chase's.

“And you’re mine until the last second.” Ceasar stared at me, and I met his gaze, refusing to look away. “Seven days with you,” I murmured, “For one day of revenge.” “One week, Jane,” Caesar said, his voice a deep, velvet promise that slid down my spine. “Seven days and I’ll give you everything you’ve been craving… even the things you’re too afraid to admit you want.”

Back then, all I could think of was Zachary's gentle expression, so I nodded and replied, "Maybe not all men are worth it, but Zachary is." … Dr. Lane remained quiet on the call for a while before he asked me hesitantly, "Are you sure your boyfriend won't mind?" Smiling as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, I replied, "I won't have a boyfriend anymore." Without asking any further, he sent me the document detailing my acceptance into the medical relief program. "Ms. Claire Stewart, welcome to the Sauvaine medical relief team. Your team will be departing in three days." After closing the email, I entered my social media account and posted a short update.

On our seventh wedding anniversary, my wife, Blair, the daughter of the city's richest man, straddled my lap, her kiss deep and intoxicating as she toyed with my lower lip. The same night, we just announced our pregnancy to the world. Just then, Blair's best friend, Chloe, asked in French, her tone suggestive: "Blair, you're absolutely glowing. But tell me honestly, how does it feel to get railed by another man while carrying a baby?" Blair let out a soft laugh, a familiar sound that sent a chill down my spine. She replied, also in French: "It feels absolutely incredible, Chloe. He's like a wild wolf. Just yesterday, he had his head buried between my thighs, using his mouth to bring me

"Hm. Seven years was up a month ago. I can't believe you have the nerve to come back." His eyes darted between Theodore and me. He sneered. "Heard the Alpha was coming, so you showed up to throw yourself at him?" "At least put on something decent. What's with this trash you're wearing?" The pain came late. I couldn't help a low groan. I turned my head and met Theodore's eyes. His chin was tipped up, hard as a hammer aimed at my skull. His collar hung open, baring a stretch of pale, cold neck.