Chloe Lang Novels & Stories

Chloe. Calling.

She was preparing vegetable soup and lasagna with bread-sticks. Long after, I heard light footsteps approaching and looked towards the entrance to see Khloe walk in as she rubbed her eyes. My breath caught in my throat as I watched her in leggings and a thin sweater that went down to her mid-thighs. She had on socks, and her hair was flowing down her back in waves. She froze when she saw me, and an awkward silence ensued as we stood across the kitchen staring at each other. When we finally broke eye contact, I noticed that her mother had left the kitchen, and I sighed in relief.

"Mom, it's time for you to be announced with dad!" Natalie glanced at the new figure standing behind her in the mirror and she smiled. Chloe has grown to be a beautiful woman with her long blonde hair and her sparkling blue eyes. She was dressed in a silk pink gown which stopped just below her knees and she matched it with a pair of gold heels and her gold purse. Now at sixteen approaching seventeen and almost done with high school, Chloe was her consolation for her lost child but tonight everything will change. She smiled when she remembered the pregnancy test stick she had left inside the bathroom. She would finally get her heart desire after ten years.

“I don’t want to mess it up.” “You won’t,” I assured him. “And if you do, she’ll just chew you out and then kiss you right after. That’s basically Chloe’s love language.” He chuckled. “That does sound like her.” He dropped me off at Mirae. On our way, Chloe and Tyler texted, letting me know they would meet up later. Once I got there, I headed straight to the floor where current orders were being processed. One of the assistants handed me a finished piece from the latest batch; a deep blue layered dress with stitching along the seams.

Noah stammered, his scent souring with fear. “I invited her,” Chloe interrupted. Her crimson lipstick looked like fresh blood, and she had wrapped a matching silk ribbon into a perfect bow over the silver-blade scar on her wrist. At nearly six feet tall, she looked every bit the high-born Kinton heir. “Chloe, leave her out of our pack politics,” Noah hissed, trying to grab my hand. “Is this the Ryder Global mess hall, Noah? The meat looks exquisite,” I said, stepping back so his fingers missed my skin.

They talked for a while, then turned and started walking in my direction. I wanted to hide. Too late. Chloe spotted me first. She froze for a second, then her face lit up. She hurried toward me. "You must be Selene!" Her smile was wide and warm. "I've been wanting to meet you! Jace talks about you constantly — my ears are practically ringing!" I stared. "What?" She glanced back at Jace, then back at me, grinning even wider. "I'm Chloe. Jace's wedding planner." My voice came out unsteady.

his voice was loud enough for everyone to hear. A ripple of murmurs went through the crowd. I heard the words "Wolfless", "adopted" and "Runt" whispered like curses. Then, a laugh cut through the tension. Chloe, my step-sister, stepped out from the crowd. She was wearing a blood-red gown that clung to her curves, diamonds glittering at her neck, and heels so high, they should be illegal for producing false identity. She walked up the steps of the dais and slid her arm through Lucas’s, then she leaned her head on his shoulder, smirking down at me.

When he fell for Chloe, the game became real and complicated. Name: CHLOE RICHARDSON Age: 20 Nationality: American (born NYC) Profession/Education: Junior at Columbia University, majoring in International History Works part-time at university library (refuses family money) 3.7 GPA because she's genuinely interested in her studies, not performing Physical Description:

Chloe had already walked up to Lorenzo. She was tall and lean, standing nearly 5'9". Coupled with her cool aura, she didn't lose an inch of presence standing before this 6'2" powerhouse of a man. Their energies collided in the air—hers as forbidden as ice, his as intense as fire. Lorenzo looked at the girl, a flicker of cold annoyance in his eyes at the intrusion. Chloe stopped just outside his social bubble and pulled off her mask, revealing a stunning face.

“Why would they send you without an orientation? I am going to have to arrange for one before you start tomorrow.” “Thanks,” she said in English, and she meant it. Perhaps the orientation would shed some light on just exactly what she’d gotten herself into. “I’m Chloe Kensington, by the way.” “Oleg,” he tossed over his shoulder in thickly accented English as he walked away without saying good-bye. Chloe looked at her hands. They were trembling and no wonder. She wasn’t sure what she’d signed up for, but every bit of her screamed that she’d be sorry for it.