Ivan Sophie Lark Novels & Stories

Location: Silver Croft Avenue, Blackwood City, Pearl Coast. Sophia, a stunning 28-year-old woman with an olive skin tone and a flair for fashion, paces around her father's opulent living room, her heels clicking on the polished marble floor. Sophia, popularly called Sophiee by her two bosom friends, holds the phone close to her straight hair, which falls just below her chin. She is styled in a chic, bouncy bob with a side part that adds to her effortless charm.

Sophia asked, oblivious of how flustered I was. Sophia is in her early twenties with striking features. She has a straight nose, an oval-shaped face, fair skin, and a beauty mark on the right side of her nose, thick dark glossy hair pin straight cascading down her waist like a waterfall, she dyed the tip blonde to indicate a bet she lost to Theo. Her almond-shaped eyes and very dark brown eyes held confidence and shone with mischief, she always stood tall at 5'6. "With your parents." I managed to respond.

Some with barely concealed doubt. I stand there feeling completely out of my depth. A woman steps forward from the crowd. Mid-thirties. Strong build. Dark hair pulled back in a tight braid. She stops three feet away and studies me with sharp brown eyes. "Luna," she says. Not warm. Not cold. Testing. "That's me." I manage a smile. "Still getting used to it." "I'm Sophia. Liam's Gamma. I run logistics and pack resources." She extends her hand. I shake it. Her grip is firm.

The invitation from Alpha Lucy to join an outing for high-ranking females from different packs left Sophia both excited and intrigued. The opportunity to connect with other powerful women within the supernatural community was something she couldn't pass up. As the day approached, she found herself eagerly anticipating the experience. On the day of the outing, Sophia prepared herself with a mix of excitement and nervousness. The event held the promise of new connections and shared experiences, but being surrounded by so many accomplished women also brought a touch of apprehension. She chose an outfit that exuded both confidence and elegance, a reflection of her growing role as Luna and the pr

Sophia suddenly swung her arm wildly, her face flushed. "Crazy woman, go ahead and tell her! Since she's already suspicious, let's see if she believes a word you say!" Larry grabbed Sophia's wrist. "Get lost!" "Don't touch me, I'm not leaving! Why are you so desperate to get rid of me? Is Aria coming back? Afraid she'll see us? I'm not going anywhere—let her see!" Sophia threw a tantrum, shouting like a child. "Don't touch me! Larry, you're hurting me, let go! Let—"

The mention of his name did more to her nerves than all of Oliver's flattery. Lily and Sophie, another servant girl, had become very helpful during this time and she enjoyed their company. Although still reserved there was a lot more fun to be had chatting with two engaging women than sitting on her own all day. Sophie was a curvy young blonde with a boisterous laugh and a big personality.

Turning my attention to his companion, I extended my hand out to hers to shake it. “I’m Lilly,” I introduced myself, impressed with my measured voice. “This is Rick.” Then I waved my hand in the general direction of the remaining guests. “And the rest of the family.” “I’m Sophie.” Her eyes were crystal blue pools shining with amusement as she looked us over. Her fiery red hair fell in luxurious waves down her shoulders. With a slim, but curvy body, she stood about an inch taller than me. “I’ve heard so much about you.” Interesting.

“I take it back, I don’t want to do it anymore. Please, please, Arlo, I’m not her.” I swallowed hard, my heart trembling in my chest. “I told you, I can’t just let you walk away, Lori.” “It’s Ivory!” She snapped, her eyes glaring with anger now. “Okay, fine. Ivory.”‘I conceded. “I’ll call you Ivory, so tell me what is wrong?” “Everything. Every. Thing.” She stressed the words, “I am not fit for this life, I’m not. You were right, I am vulnerable and weak and naive and everything that is wrong for you.”

she announces dryly. I laugh. “I’m Voilette. Your new nurse." "Great. Another one," she mutters, eyes glued to her iPad—Ariana Grande’s "thank u, next" plays softly. "You like Ariana?" I ask, leaning against the bedside table. Sophia’s eyes flick to me, suspicious. "Prove you’re not a poser. Name five Ariana songs. Now." I smirk. ""7 rings." "Problem." "Dangerous Woman." "Break Free." "Into You.""

“In that case, I shall come visit you often.” “There’s no need to call me ‘my lady.’ In private, call me Vivia—that is my real name. ‘Lark’ was only a stage name I used back when I performed for a living. Though I am older than you, I’m not that much older, so just use my name. It feels warmer that way, and not so distant—unless you despise my origins and are unwilling to be close to me!” Lady Lark spoke in mock displeasure, though her tone and expression brimmed with delight.