Seventh Sanctum

“Are you sure you want to do this?” A soft murmur reached Sierra’s ears as she closed her eyes. “Is there another way?” “You’ve already heard what the doctor said about Callie’s condition, right? There’s no other way, Sierra.” Axton lifted his head from the crook of Sierra’s neck. “So, let’s get this done now and give me the money according to our deal,” Sierra said confidently while giving him a long kiss. *** Sierra signed an agreement to become a surrogate mother for her best friend, Callie, who couldn’t get pregnant by herself due to lupus. As part of the arrangement, Sierra would receive compensation, which she planned to use to pay off the debt left by her bastard father. Unfortunately, after they finalized the agreement, Callie was declared unable to produce eggs for fertilization. In the end, the only solution rested with Sierra. Callie asked her best friend to sleep with her husband so they could have a child together, a baby that would be raised as Axton and Callie’s own. Having no other choice, she slept with her boss, who also happened to be her best friend’s husband, and eventually became pregnant with his child. However, tragedy struck when Callie fell seriously ill during Sierra’s seventh month of pregnancy and passed away. So, what happens next? What will happen to Sierra and the baby she is pregnant with? What if there are many hidden truths between them? What if Sierra and Axton had a connection in the past before Axton married Callie? What if Axton and Callie’s relationship was built on a web of lies that Callie kept hidden? As secrets from their pasts begin to unravel, how will Sierra and Axton face the future?

I've stood before a priest and sworn my vows to the same man seven times. And for the seventh time, I've signed divorce papers in front of the family lawyer. At our first wedding, the youngest Capo of the Throne family held my hand and promised, "From this day forward, my life is yours and yours alone." But whenever his childhood sweetheart stirred up trouble and needed his protection, Carter's vow to me would conveniently become a sanctuary for her. "Tessa's in trouble again, Maeve. For your own safety, we have to get a divorce for now." The first time I was forced to divorce, I threatened him with the honor of our families' alliance, even vowing to expose his betrayal at a family gathering. His men dragged me out of the manor. The third time I signed the papers, I humbled myself, sneaking into the family's private club just to catch a glimpse of him from afar. By the sixth time, I had learned to quietly pack my few belongings in this house of lies, without putting up a fight. My breakdowns and desperate, undignified attempts to save us were only ever met with Carter's reliable promise to remarry me, just before another round of the divorce game he played for Tessa's sake. Until this time. After hearing Tessa was returning to New York from Italy, I didn't wait for Carter to speak. I placed the signed divorce papers in his study myself. Just like always, he casually set a date for our remarriage. But he didn't know that day was the day I would disappear from his world forever.

My husband, Chandler Goodwin, claims that he doesn't understand what the phrases "silent treatment" or "giving the cold shoulder" mean. Yet, in the three years we have been married, he has never once spoken to me sweetly. The first time we have a falling out, I remain proud and dignified. We end up ignoring each other for seven days straight. The seventh time we have a cold standoff, I start to panic a little. However, despite trying all sorts of methods, he doesn't back down. The 11th time it happens, I have already learned to work through my emotions myself. Chandler doesn't even need to say anything before I take the initiative to apologize first. I simply think that he's just a naturally indifferent person, that nobody can warm his stone-cold heart. Then, on the third year of our marriage, I accidentally ruin his dress shirt while ironing it. Chandler doesn't say a word, but that very night, he packs his things and moves into a hotel. On the third day of being blocked, I head to his company with a handwritten apology. While passing by his office, I spot him leaning over to shoot his angry assistant a doting smile. "I'm sorry for raising my voice at you just now and upsetting you. It's been 57 minutes since you started ignoring me. Please stop giving me the cold shoulder, alright?" I freeze on the spot, the apology letter in my hand practically burning my fingers. As it turns out, it's not that he doesn't know what the silent treatment means—it's just that I've never been the person he wants to coax.

"Cum now, princess." Zeke ordered as he flicked open the lock on the cock cage around Eli's cock and his body convulsed as the long-denied orgasm tore through him. --------- ‎“I need you to—fuck—I need you to hurt me.” ‎There. The silence came. Not shameful. Not violent. Just truth. ‎Zeke ripped the shirt from Eli’s back. calculated. His belt snapped once. Eli flinched, eyes wild. ‎“You don't get color,” Zeke said flatly. “You say red, I won't stop. And until I'm sure you're tamed, I don’t care if you beg. You wanted to feel something? You’re going to feel everything.” ‎The first crack of the belt made Eli jolt. The second had him gasping. ‎By the fifth, he was moaning. ‎By the seventh, he whispered Zeke’s name like a prayer. ------ Two lovers. Then three. Eventually four. A relationship built on dominance, obsession, and unrestrained desire. ‎No contracts. No safe words. No rules—just raw, brutal fucking. A war of ownership. A battle for control. A dangerous game that turns a dominant into a trembling switch under the right hands. ‎ ‎What happens when a dominant with a submissive lover becomes the fixation of another dominant—one with darkness in his veins and sadism in his smile? ‎ ‎What happens when the confident, untouchable dom unravels, his hidden masochism dragged to the surface by the only man ruthless enough to tame him? ‎ ‎What happens when a discarded, shame-soaked nymph, branded an abomination by her family, falls into the hands of three lovers who have no intention of letting her go—who will worship, ruin her, and show her that her hunger isn't sin... it's survival? A twisted journey of control, obsession, and raw desire—unfolding across three sinful tales: Loved in the Dark. Fucked into Obedience. Seduction and Sin.

It was our seventh bonding anniversary. However, Xavier Ashton, the Alpha who controlled everything, brought home his pregnant lover. For the past seven years, he worshipped me. He would kiss my hand in front of everyone and say I was his moon, the only Luna of his life. Yet now, his hand rested on another she-wolf's belly, as if showcasing a miracle. "She's carrying my first pup. You have the Moon Goddess's power. I want you to bless her. Also, she's been having nightmares during the pregnancy, so she'll take the main bedroom." I froze, almost convinced I had misheard him. "Are you joking? That's my room!" He looked up, his tone carrying a warning. "From today, it's hers." Anger nearly made me laugh. My voice shook, but it was clear. "You got some lowly Omega she-wolf pregnant and brought her into our home? Xavier Ashton, you've completely lost your mind!" "I won't say this a third time. Move out now." His aura turned ice-cold in an instant. His Alpha pressure hit me head-on, making my wolf whimper inside me. He thought I would obediently submit, but he did not know that I had already packed my bags weeks ago, when I received the video of his affair. As I walked toward the front door, I heard him sneer behind me, "Let her throw a tantrum. She'll come crawling back in less than three days." The pack members snickered behind me, already betting on how many days I would last this time. However, the private car sent to pick me up was already waiting at the door. This time, I was cutting ties with him for good.

Every bonding anniversary, Shawn would bring home a new human girl from the outside—always under the lovely pretense of letting me mentor her on how to serve an Alpha. On our seventh anniversary, he brought back a nightclub girl dressed in a Princess Snow White outfit—cheap satin trembling under the chandelier's light. “She doesn’t have anything appropriate for an occasion like this,” he said casually. “Let her borrow your bonding dress. And the jewelry I gave you last time. As for shoes—what you're wearing now will do.” Then he added, with a trace of irony, “She’s just a young human girl, clueless. Teach her a few things about our world, will you? Especially the part about the bed.” Everyone was waiting for the spectacle—for me to break again, as I always had. And I didn’t disappoint them. I looked at Shawn, my voice steady, and said I wanted a bond-severance. He laughed—short and sharp—and leaned back like he was watching a comedy. “Clara, when are you going to stop with this bond-severance nonsense? I’ve heard it so many times. They’re just human girls, while you are my Luna. How could they ever compare to you?” Then, grinning as if doing me a favor, he added, “Fine. If you really want a bond-severance, I’ll gift you a territory in the south. Consider it a reward for doing your job as my Luna.” The room erupted in laughter. To them, I was ridiculous—greedy, jealous, hysterical. But what they didn’t know was that this was the 365th time I’d asked for a bond-severance. And the first time, I truly meant it. When he found out I wasn’t joking this time, he lost his composure. He searched for me across the world—only after he realized I was no longer where he thought I’d always be.

On the seventh year after we moved overseas, my 13-year-old daughter, Anna Jackman, is hailed as the internationally renowned piano prodigy. No matter how difficult the song is, Anna is capable of weaving beautiful melodies with it. But there's only one song that Anna refuses to play. It's a seemingly ordinary lullaby. She's worried that she might end up forgiving that despicable man again once she plays it on the piano. So, when said man, Micah Jackman, turns up on our doorstep with a piano that's handcrafted by a master craftsman and asks Anna to play him the lullaby, she just shakes her head calmly in return. "I don't know how to play that song, sir." Micah's eyes redden immediately. He grabs Anna's hand and navigates it to the piano keys. "That's impossible! Aren't you a piano prodigy, Anna? Haven't you always wanted to have a piano of your own? I've already bought you your own piano this time! From now on, if you have any wishes, you should tell me, and I'll grant them for you." Anna draws back her right hand coldly. "It's fine, sir. I can earn my own money to buy my own piano. You should take the piano back to your daughter." Micah feels as though his heart has plunged into the abyss. He immediately pulls Anna into his arms. "What are you talking about, Anna? You're my only daughter!" But Anna looks a little puzzled. "Didn't you say that Ms. Sinclair's daughter is the only one worthy of becoming your child? Didn't you give the piano you promised for me to Ms. Sinclair's daughter?" Having reached that point, Anna just smiles nonchalantly at Micah. "It's fine, sir. Since you like Ms. Sinclair, you can just raise her daughter. I'm already content enough with Mom by my side."

During the seventh year of my relationship with Oscar Ramsay, he goes back to his home country to inherit the position of heir to the Ramsay family from his younger brother, Oliver Ramsay, who passed away. He also accepts Oliver's widow, Evie Griffin, into the family. Every time after he sleeps with her, he will get down on his knees before me and beg me for forgiveness. "I'm sorry, Aurora. You're the only person I love, but none of this is of my own accord. I'll only be able to publicly announce our relationship after I successfully give Evie a baby to be the next family heir. "I'll be taking over the company by then, too, and give you a better life in the future." He even tells me resentfully that his father, Uriah Ramsay, had told him of his dying wish that Evie give birth to a baby boy. Over the next year, Oscar sleeps with Evie 200 times. It went from a few times a month to a few times a week. Eventually, Oscar just sleeps in her room every single night. After I lose sleep for 200 nights, Evie finally gets pregnant. The next day, Oscar and Evie get married at a very expensive and elaborate wedding at a church. Ingrid Ramsay, my daughter, gets upset when she sees Oscar and Evie kissing on the screen. "Mommy, why is Daddy getting married to someone else? You're his wife!" I cover Ingrid's eyes and smile bitterly. "Because Daddy doesn't love Mommy." Oscar doesn't know this, but I have never cared that other people didn't know about my real identity. I also don't care about his money or wealth. I only care whether or not he loves me. I'm no longer willing to face a man who cheats on me. Instead, I bring Ingrid with me as we leave him forever.

On our seventh year anniversary, my girlfriend, Rachel Winters, forces me to drink a glass of drugged champagne before dumping me onto the bed of an 80-year-old widow. "It's Bryon's first time attending a business meeting. He's still pure and oblivious, so he doesn't know how to satisfy an older widow's insatiable desire. "I have no choice but to ask you to seal this business deal on his behalf. Think of this as your way of helping me repay Bryon's family for raising me since young. "Don't worry, Corey. No one will know about this." After that, Rachel turns off the lights and leaves the room while ignoring my pleas for help. But the next day, the video of me and the widow going at it is spread across the Internet. My colleagues look down on me for resorting to such underhanded methods just to get promoted. They can't believe that I'm able to stomach the idea of sleeping with an 80-year-old widow. Thanks to the video, the company's reputation is greatly affected. Rachel holds a press conference immediately to address the issue. I thought she'd defend me, but I didn't expect her to change her tune. "I've already discussed this matter with the Dalton family. Corey Dalton shall take responsibility for what he's done to the widow. As for me, I will get engaged to Bryon Parson." I feel as though lightning has struck me on the spot. I've founded this company with Rachel and has stuck by her side through thick and thin, resulting in us rising as the new-time business moguls. But in the end, she decides to ditch me. "Corey, if you really want to stay by my side, you can remain as my side piece. In exchange, I'll help you shake that old woman off your tail." As I meet Rachel's smug gaze, I shake my head decisively. "I've already thought things through and decided that I'll be marrying the widow."

Around the seventh month of my pregnancy, I overheard a conversation between my mate, Zane Andrews, and Ciara Phillips, the she-wolf I had taken in out of compassion after her family was brutally slaughtered by rogues. In a sultry, flirtatious tone, Ciara purred, “Zane, my love, if your wife discovers that the fertilized egg I planted in her womb isn’t truly hers by blood, she’ll be devastated—perhaps to the point of despairing suicide, don’t you think?” Zane snorted, his voice dripping with disdain at the mention of me. “It’ll work for us if she simply dies from heartbreak. Damn it. I can’t shake the worry that she might sever our bond and leave me with nothing. Let’s keep this under wraps until our child inherits all her assets. Only then will we reveal the bombshell, plunging her into darkness.” Ciara giggled, praising Zane for his cunning. My claws itched to lash out, but I held back, knowing the time for confrontation wasn’t yet. My heart sank as their betrayal cut deep. Years ago, I had defied my pack elders’ warnings about Ciara being a potential threat, taking her in and grooming her into our pack's doctor, funding her education out of sheer empathy. Now, I regretted every moment of my kindness. To think that my mate, who had once begged for my protection for his fragile pack, had the audacity to betray me. If not for my support, his pathetic pack would have crumbled long ago, leaving him nursing his wounds in a dark corner, fretting over survival. After a long moment of contemplation, I made my decision. I would feign ignorance to their schemes and play along by giving birth to Ciara’s baby. Two decades passed. Ciara’s child grew up, bearing the name Simon Andrews. Aware of their treachery, I still transferred all my assets to him. Once the paperwork was completed, Ciara boldly approached me in front of the entire pack, a maternity DNA test in hand. With a smug smile, she declared, “Leia Holland, look at this! I am Simon’s biological mother. Leave h