Blooming Ivy Lane Novels & Stories

Because we both knew exactly why. Ivy stared at me for another long second before finally turning toward the doorway. But halfway out of the kitchen, she stopped. Looking back over her shoulder with a small, dangerous smile, she said: “What if I only want to stream for you tonight?” Christ. My control snapped for half a second. I took one step forward before catching myself, fists clenched at my sides. Ivy saw it all—the hunger, the restraint, the raw need. And she smiled like she finally knew she had just as much power over me. Little brat. She was going to pay for that.

The night didn’t need witnesses. From my balcony, the packhouse shimmered faintly in the distance its torches flickering like fireflies. Even from here I could feel the unease rolling off it. Fear had a scent, and tonight it drifted on the wind like perfume. The door behind me creaked. “Varyn,” I said without turning. He bowed. “You called for me, my lady.” “They’ve confined her. Good. It will make things simpler.” I traced the rim of my wine glass, watching the dark liquid swirl. “What have you learned?”

"Loyalty." I left him speechless. I went out of the dungeon and decided to go to Jace's diner. When I got there, I expected I'd find Ivy. She was there alone with her laptop, drinking her milkshake. I'm guessing that milkshake is what keeps her calm. When Ivy saw me, she immediately looked away and pretended that she was minding her own business. After I ordered a drink from one of the waiters, I saw Jace sitting in front of Ivy which blocked her face from her I was sitting.

Amelia's POV I stared at the text message on my phone for a long moment, the words blurring slightly as my mind raced. *“Meet me at the café on Willow Street in one hour. Alone. Please. — Ivy”* It was short, almost pleading, and completely out of character for my sister. I sat on the edge of the couch in my newly restored apartment, the faint scent of fresh paint and cleaning products still lingering in the air. The wooden box of Gran’s letters sat on the coffee table like a quiet anchor, but even that couldn’t settle the unease twisting in my stomach.

Ivy paid the driver and got out with a firm step, but she had to turn back because her friend hadn't even opened the door. “Come on, move!” Ivy shouted, opening the taxi door from the outside. “Ivy, I have a bad feeling,” Leyla said, getting out slowly, her eyes scanning the security cameras that turned toward her. “Stop being such a coward! It's just a house,” Ivy corrected, letting out a giggle. “And believe me, once you get used to it, it's addictive.” “A house where a killer hybrid lives,” Leyla replied under her breath, “important detail.”

Jade One second Ivy was crying into her hands beside our burnt couch, and the next some fat man in stained pajamas was storming down the stairs yelling like the fire personally attacked his childhood. “What the hell did your drunk mother do to my building?!” I looked up slowly because honestly my brain had already clocked out for the night. Ivy wiped her face fast and stood up. “Don’t start,” she snapped. “Don’t start?” he repeated, almost choking on the words. “DON’T START? Half the damn flat is black! The walls are ruined, the wiring’s ruined, the tenants upstairs are complaining about smoke, and your mother nearly burned everybody alive!”

I don’t even open the note—I slide it under my bra, heart hammering so loud I’m sure the walls can hear it. Footsteps. I look up. Ivy. Her eyes immediately lock onto the flowers. A slow, poisonous smile curves her lips. “I’m sure Hardin didn’t get you flowers,” she says sweetly. “So who did?” I lift my chin, matching her stare. “I’m a social figure,” I reply calmly. “A popular one. I receive gifts all the time—something you wouldn’t understand.” That does it. Her smile cracks. And then—perfect timing—she hears it.

Just a bouquet of white lilies lying on the mat, raindrops glistening on the petals. Ivy sucked in a breath. I stepped forward, picked them up. A small card was tucked between the stems. I flipped it over. I’m sorry. Please call me. I love you. — C Cassian. Rage hit me so fast my vision tunneled. Ivy’s voice came from behind me—small, uncertain. “Who is it?” I turned slowly, held the bouquet up so she could see. Her face drained of color. “Cassian,” I said. Voice flat. Cold.

"Imposters steal things they didn't earn. You bled for this. You cried for this. Now, you’re going to go out there and lead for this. Fix your face, Ivy. People are waiting." When the car pulled up to the brownstone in the center of town, I nearly didn't recognize it. The wrought-iron gates were draped in white peonies and eucalyptus. A modest, tasteful sign hung above the door: ROSE & CEDAR. / THE ANCHOR FOUNDATION.

Ivy was momentarily taken aback. She knew of Selena, of course, but she couldn't understand why this remarkable young woman had ignored everyone else and come straight to her to make an introduction. Hastily, she saluted. "Yes, I'm Ivy. It is an honor to meet you, Lady Campbell." "Please, no need for such formality," Selena replied, taking Ivy's hand in hers. "I've admired you for some time, and it is my true pleasure to meet you today. If you don't mind, I would like us to be friends."