The Hours Novels & Stories

André glared at the doctor, and he fidgeted a little. “Thirty hours” The doctor gave a nervous nod. “Yes, Alpha.” “Well then, your time starts now…”

Of course, I had to say the exact number. Their jaws drop even further, but Luna Allison is just sipping her coffee, a proud, amused smile playing on her lips. Oscar is the first to recover, narrowing his eyes at me like I’ve just declared I can fly. "I can’t work out how you get that high. There are only two 2-hour sessions on the weekends. The total should be 24 hours like Zach said." His tone rubs me the wrong way, like he doesn’t believe me. I can feel my temper rising, my hackles up. Zanthe growls softly in the back of my mind. ‘Oh, he wants to question me? Fine. I’ll educate him.’

with as much sass as possible. He snorted and said "Be ready babe, your 48 hours starts at 8 tomorrow! I hope you are all set to have a wild time" I could feel him smirking before the line got disconnected. Is it just me or is it getting hot in here? phew! I asked myself while getting out of the store and fanning my face. I couldn't stop my giddiness now. I can't wait for tomorrow!

Henry exclaimed as he was demonstrating it. "I can't. It is too painful!" Emma shouted while crying in pain holding the arms of her husband so very tight that Henry even felt the pain of those tightly grip of her wife. When Henry suddenly thought of something. "Honey I forgot to lock the door of our house. I need to get back, there might be thief that will stole all our things in the house." Henry explained while Emma looked at him wide. "I will be right back honey I promise." Henry continues and then looked at the nurse who was pushing his wheelchair.

She understood this, but she wasn't sure how to stop it. Minnow pushed all these anxieties down and set herself on autopilot. Her beloved matching grey tracksuit hung on the desk chair, and she eagerly put on the soft, stretchy material before crawling into the downy bed. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow, drowning out the ongoing party downstairs. Her sleep was dreamless until she entered the wolf's hour, inviting her deepest fears back into her mind—the hour between night and dawn when most people die, sleep is the most profound, and nightmares are the most real.

"Like what?" "Like that. We don't have time." "We have three hours and forty seven minutes," I told her. She looked at me over her shoulder. "Get up." I got up.

“ Boss , the minimum sleeping hours that a human being should have are at least eight to ten hours . “ said Antonio a bit annoyed with a forced smile . “ I sleep four hours mostly of the week . I don’t see any problem here . “ said Damian with his casual cool expression . ‘ ….Derrick is right . This guy isn’t human at all . Other people would die of overwork while he is so calm and composure about it . How can a person live with only four hours of sleep everyday ? ‘ thought Antonio . “ But…..I don’t see any reason to stay here . I also finished my work . “ said Antonio . “ Your work isn’t finished . You have to guard me . “ said Damian . ‘ Damn it ! This guy !……He is so annoying . I have to

I'd never done that before. "You should get something, too, Robert," Mom suggested, generously, since I was paying. "A nice Rolex watch or something." "Don't get a watch," Shelly said. "It'll only confuse you." "It will?" I frowned as the salesman chuckled, doubtlessly thinking my girlfriend was trying to insult me. I knew better. "The days are only 19 hours long on Karnas Prime," she explained. "And 27 hours long on Delphi." "Where?" Mom asked, holding a ladies Rolex and looking quite enamored with it.

“Mykel, what’s wrong?” “I just noticed that you have twenty hours researching, reading, three hours of sleep, then one hour for three meals. If you start working at the Kross Corp, do you still have time for home? For me.” Not to mention, she also enrolled in a seminar online twice a week for three months.

Everything in this city connects back to him somehow. "Part-time means what? Ten hours a week? Twenty?" I need specifics. "Twenty hours," Lucien says. "Maximum. And nothing that requires evening hours or weekend travel." "Fifteen hours," I counter. "But I choose my projects and clients." "Seventeen. And nothing that creates a conflict of interest with Cross Holdings." "Done." I extend my hand across the space between us. He stares at it for a long moment. Then he reaches out, his large hand engulfing mine. His palm is warm. The handshake is firm, professional, and somehow more intimate than our wedding kiss.