Layla Summary Novels & Stories

She pulled her hand away from him, and her steely gaze remained fixated on Demeter. “I said that’s a lie. I know you know more about my power than I do, but I know that my presence in this world didn’t cause those creatures, nor did the rebels.” Layla insisted, ignoring the looks from the three men in the room. She wasn’t going to back down. She needed the truth, and the only person that could give her that was the lady in front of her.

My name is layla. I was born in 920 b.c. I was left by an apple tree in the middle of a grass field, with wild flowers. My adoptive father, Damien found me, and took me home to his wife, Isabell. They had two kids together; Phebe (age 10) and Isaiah (age 5). Isabell had Phebe at the age of 13, and Damien was only 17 years-old at the time. It was normal in 920 b.c to marry, and have kids young. My parents were only married a few months before having Phebe.

She was so strong. "I also know Tate. He's vile and manipulative but he's not good enough to fool you into doing this. You both came here to what? Kidnap me? Kill me? Rape me? What?" Layla yelled. "I told you. I just came here to talk to you. Tate is the mad one." Billy snapped. Layla smirked. "You were right about me knowing you but you have no idea who I am." Layla smiled darkly. She looked him in the eye. Leo and I lean forward, knowing what she's about to do. She punched him quickly in the nose, breaking it.

Lyra rolled her eyes and walked to the door, just as she was about to open it, the door flung open and a delicious scent hit her. Just as she was beginning to bask in the intoxicating scent, her eyes met his familiar blue ones. At the sight of the eyes, her breath caught and she mustered a word. “J?” *** Lyra had just been craving a particular raspberry and white chocolate cupcakes. It was the week were they abstained from every non vegan food, but Lyra being Lyra always gets what she wants. She sneaked out of her dorm and headed towards Tyler's corner. Whenever she wanted to do something illegal, Tyler was her buddy, her partner in crime.

She begins mumbling things that I don't quite understand and I contemplate with myself on whether I should grab her. Layla's POV: I hadn't thought this would actually work but it did. As soon as I touched the coffin it was as if my body and mind were no longer mine. I saw myself in a bright glowing light evaporating into a mist then leaving the dark crypt behind. All of the memories that had been buried came to the surface and I remembered them clearly as if they happened only yesterday. I remember our friends and family. I remember his proposal and the time and the detail that went into our wedding. I remember talking about starting a family. I remember us leaving my hometown behind when my

he chuckled. He anticipated her next query but it didn't come so he poked her shoulder gently. "Who are you?" She smiled at him and he added; "We don't wish to harm you, but why you are here isn't a subject for today.” “I'm Layla. I was just a regular street girl, raised by Fey's parents after my parents abandoned me in Williams' street. They were the only family I knew whose narrative I am aware of.” As she spoke tears started building in her eyes and her voice cracked. "I wish to see my parent and ask them why they left me to suffer, did I ever offend them?"

I've a choice? Author Note: Lalya is an awkward charcer who has a big inferiority complex, so she used her foul mouth and humor to escape reality most of the time. She deflect the pain by acting funny which is honesty sad. Lets see how her relationship with Lucian proceeds. Will Layla let Lucian mark her?

She took a deep breath and let the pen move. We were almost nothing. Almost something. Almost brave enough to say what we meant before we lost it. But here’s the truth no one talks about— Almost is just the beginning of something better... if you don’t give up. She paused, reading it over once, her chest rising with a quiet exhale. Jayden looked up again, as if he’d felt something shift. “What are you writing?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair from his face. Layla hesitated, then tore the page from her journal and walked over to hand it to him.

I wondered if they would be pissed because I wasn’t there for them. Letting out a deep breath, I decided to stay calm. They were just kids. I shouldn’t be nervous about meeting four-year-olds. I was an adult and I needed to have everything in control. A few hours later, my phone buzzed with a text message from Layla. She wanted us to meet in two hours in a private garden. I noticed that Layla always took all the necessary precautions to keep her personal life private. Even if she was famous, people only knew details about her work life.

I asked, yawning. “We're going to learn everything about Hemophilia A,” Layla announced, handing me a stack of books and articles. I groaned, laughing. “You're going to turn me into a Hemophilia expert, aren't you?” Layla grinned mischievously. “You bet I am.” “But I already know everything there is to know,” I protested, pouting. “No, no, no man. You can't deceive me with that face. I'd you knew everything them you wouldn't have cut yourself.” She countered.