Seven Years Book Novels & Stories

Or at least t rying to be. Seven years. I had seven years to figure out how to survive this. And I'd just taken the first step

Jacob smiled with a sympathetic look in his eyes as he slowly said, “ It has been seven years Levy, times have changed. The things that were here seven years ago are no longer here.” That’s right, it has been seven years ever since she last visited that library most probably it was boarded by now and might have a bunch of termites singing hallelujah within its wall.

"I want three days. Give me everything on Blue Moon—their illegal suppressants, the back-alley surgeries, and exactly how they've been draining the pockets of the poor through medical fraud. I want them to spit out every cent they've stolen, along with a side of blood. As for that accomplice from the Glen Pack... do whatever you want with them." "Got it!" Seven nodded enthusiastically. He tucked an ultra-thin laptop under his arm and vanished into the LA night like a ghost. Nobody would have guessed that this kid was "7"—the genius hacker who had brought the global banking system to its knees three years ago. Seven had always carried a look of natural aggression. Because he'd experienced an

“Never,’ I spat with disdain, filled with outrage. My wolf just ignored me and was just excited and singing happily, not caring if I was cheerful about it or not. She knows how I hate fated mates. “Thinking of refusing about the seven of us, shit, you can’t and it will take me nothing to suck the life out of you and leave you for dead.’ The seven of them? How ridiculous! What? “Oh, you haven’t perceived the other’s scent here,’ I looked around. There were only six. Well, their pheromones say there are seven of them. Where is the remaining one? I don’t give a damn. Seven mates. This was too much, not one mate, but seven. What am I, a robot or some sort of sex machine to them?

The bed was cut in two and a long vertical sign was on the wall behind it. 'What the fuck? When did that happen?' Sara stood up and inspected the bed. It was a clean cut and some residual traces of "Breath" were still there. Sara looked again at the book in her hands, her expression became serious. 'I endured the Forging of the Seven Hells because I never had a family to begin with. I find nothing wrong in doing something as dangerous because Heaven and Earth want to do the same.' She sat on the broken bed and began to read through the pages.

"Seven like the number?" Seven nods as he carries the bag of groceries for me towards the lift. "Yea... Seven like the number. And just so you know, Seven is a lucky number." "I've heard that before..." His green eyes sparkle. "And what actually made my mom call me Seven is because I was born on the seventh day of the seventh month." "7th July?" Seven nods. "Gee! Sorry for being so awkward on the first day... Blame it on being born a writer."

The silence that followed was immediate, broken only by the steady, rhythmic bubbling of the thermal jets. I looked at her profile, the steam curling around her jaw. My head ached from six months of balance sheets, hostile takeovers, and the crushing weight of Arthur Blackwell's sins. But sitting three feet from her, the numbers in my mind finally went quiet. I had spent twelve years calculating the distance between us, waiting for her to realize Dominic was an empty investment. Now that she was sitting in my space, wearing my ring, none of those years seemed to matter anymore.

He was the one that was planning it as he did every other year. This year I was hopeful that I would meet my mate and so would Seven. "I stress about not meeting my mate" I pointed out sadly. "We are late bloomers," he said laughing. Seven found everything funny and lightened up any tense situation. He was soft and kind, too loving and extremely trusting. He was a hugger and he never ceased to give. His anger had a special box in his heart and it was locked away. It only came out to play on special occasions such as when the need to fight arose.

Light, noise, small hands, running, and then something like a feeling that I had always been moving slightly out of sync with everything else around me. Like I was always arriving half a second late to something important and nobody ever explained what it was. I looked down at the document again without opening it. Seven years old. “I was seven,” I said finally, voice flat, like I was testing whether the sentence belonged to me. Raven did not answer immediately. I looked up at him. He kept his expression controlled but there was something in his eyes that had shifted since he handed me the file. “Yes,” he said carefully. I nodded once like that confirmed something I already suspected but ref

His eyes were bloodshot. "Kathy, how could you do this? We've been together for seven years. Seven years, and you're ready to walk away over something like this? Have you stopped caring about the company too?" Seven years. Hearing that only made it sound more ridiculous. I looked at him, and my tone turned icy. "And what have you actually given me in the past seven years? You know exactly how many nights I stayed up working for your company and how much effort I put into it.