Lila Murphy Novels & Stories

"I'm not sure if I've entirely disarmed the devious falsehoods calling for my capitulation just yet. But she's rekindling embers inside me that I thought had died long ago. Mia's gaze sparked with intrigue as she took in each sinuous undulation of Lila's signing hands. Aside from a little tilt at the corners of her broad mouth, she remained emotionless. _"When Yuria tried to tear me apart with her hateful venom once more, I...embraced the resonance of Julia's pledges to draw strength," _Lila concluded, an intense eagerness coursing through her movements. _ "And in doing so, I found reserves to not only endure the onslaught but to channel it into something more transcendent and liberating."_

He stayed hidden, watching her quietly, his heart twisting with a mix of guilt and something warmer he couldn’t quite name. Meanwhile, in her private quarters, Lila paced back and forth, frustration clear on her face. Several failed mixtures of herbs were scattered on her table. She had experimented on a small injured rabbit, but the creature remained weak, its wounds barely improved. “This isn’t working!” Lila hissed, slamming her fist on the table. “That fat healer thinks she’s so clever. I’ll find a way to ruin her completely.” She decided to sneak into Elara’s room again that night. “If I can find her notes or the real recipe, I can fake it perfectly.”

Mine was this room. The problem with Lila, the specific and particular problem that made her different from every other threat we'd dealt with, was that she couldn't be beaten the way you beat most enemies. You couldn't corner her militarily without her burning the whole structure down on her way out. You couldn't discredit her publicly without evidence that was airtight, because she had spent years building a version of herself that was so carefully constructed that allegations without proof bounced off her reputation like water off sealed stone. She was charming and measured and politically embedded in ways that made direct confrontation costly. She always had an answer. She always had a w

She carried a leather satchel and a paper cup of coffee that she set on Evelyn’s desk as if the office already belonged to her. “Black, two sugars,” Lila said. “The way widows drink it.” Evelyn’s mouth went dry. “How did you—” “I pay attention.” Lila pulled the visitor’s chair closer, turned it around, and straddled it backward. The skirt rode high enough to reveal the lace band of her stockings and a sliver of bare thigh above. She rested her arms on the chair back, chin on her forearms, and smiled. “So. My thesis. Female hunger in twentieth-century confessional poetry. I brought the new pages.”

“If I had his kind of money, you’d never hear from me again.” Before I could respond, Lilac returned, a latte in one hand and a business card in the other. She slid into the booth beside Ariana with a smug grin plastered on her face. “Well?” Ariana and I leaned forward expectantly. “She’s a real estate agent,” Lilac said, holding up the card like a trophy. “Name’s Hailey. Thirty-two. Single. Lesbian.” She grinned wider. “And now, potentially interested in yours truly.” Ariana gasped dramatically. “Lilac! You’re unstoppable.”

I knew little about her other than the fact that she was from the Whytecliff pack, a neighboring pack of the Redmoon, which was run by Alpha Edmond. Dean Griffin, first name Lila, was blonde with long hair that draped over her shoulders and glasses that covered most of her young-looking face. She had a petite frame, and from the small amount of times I’ve seen her, I had never seen her smile. I heard from others around the school that she never smiles. “Take a seat, Judy,” she motions for one of the seats in front of her desk. She didn’t bother looking at me; too focused on whatever was on her computer screen.

All then seemed to have evaporated into a black hole before my heart pumped me awake. Until then, before I knew it, I'm living the years of my life as the Luna of the Werewolves whole empire, Lumina, only by becoming the Alpha King's wedded wife- a title I'm most shameful of having. But I know that there's still more than what the eyes see. ***** "The letters have arrived, my lady." "What type?" Claude looked at me in confusion while I busied myself completing the reports from the border lands. "What do you mean what type? Are you expecting any other letters except for invitations and requests for an audience?"

"This is Lila Dubois, our main lawyer for these talks." Lila gave a small, formal smile. Her eyes met mine for just a second. There was no warmth. Only a quick look of surprise, quickly hidden. She was good. Too good. My mind raced. How was this possible? Why hadn’t Sienna said anything? My gut twisted. Sienna was a real mess.

I took a moment to reconsider and decided to look into the book to see what she had written. Carefully, I began reading the words she had penned, my eyes scanning across the page. Aurelia had expressed her frustration, pointing out that I treated her unfairly by confining her to this place. She stated that she despised being locked up, yearning for the freedom that had been taken away from her. Her words held a raw vulnerability that stirred a mix of emotions within me.

I said, my voice breaking in half, “I received all your cowries and your letter. I thought you were dead, then alive, then dead and alive again. You died so many times to me, Lyric.” “I know,” she whispered, then louder, “I know.” I couldn’t stay,” she said, and her voice cracked like bark split under a blade. “I was drowning in expectations. I was choking on Maverick’s legacy. I had to cut myself free before it strangled Cowrie too.” “Cowrie,” I echoed, my breath hitching. “She’s my entire universe, Lila. I couldn’t imagine my sin being discovered and she dies for it." Tyler stepped closer, his eyes locked on her, his voice low. “And you still think you deserve to come back?”