Lucie Herondale Novels & Stories

Leo was so basic, he ought to be extinct. But he wanted her...oh, yes, Leo wanted her... for the moment —for probably about as long as it took for him to register the fact that she was no longer a challenge. If she clung, her novelty value would shrivel up and die. Being married to Leo, she decided, was more like having an affair. She was emerging from the nursery after feeding and playing with Sophie when the butler, Henry with the expressionless face, appeared. “A delivery, madam,” Henry extended a package to her, unusually breathless, as if he had hurried instead of strolled at his usual stately pace.

Having Valerie here, by her side, brought her a small sense of comfort in the midst of her uncertainty. “And, there’s something else,” Valerie said, her tone suddenly brightening as she stood up and went to retrieve something from the corner of the room. She turned back, holding a bundle of delicate fabric in her arms. “Your wedding dress arrived, and Lune… it’s breathtaking.” Lune sat up, her eyes widening as Valerie carefully unfolded the dress. The soft, flowing fabric shimmered in the candlelight, its intricate lace details and gentle curves designed to perfection. It was everything a wedding dress should be—stunning, elegant, and utterly beautiful.

Her beautiful eyes were so mesmerizing that he deemed them the most captivating thing he'd ever seen. His gaze was similarly tinted with affection that was exclusive to her. "Always and forever, and only for you in this lifetime." She was his world, the embodiment of his tender feelings. She blinked, asking, "What about our next lives?" He replied without hesitation, "My love will always be reserved just for you." Standing nearby, Herbert and Lana were touched by the scene. How sweet were they? … After a hot bath at night, Lucille felt even better. She sat before her vanity table, pulled out the drawer, and retrieved a syringe with a bottle of vitamin K. Then, she smoothly inserted the needl

I just want this to end so I can go on with my life. A sudden shiver runs through me when I feel a hand on the small of my back. Sparks shoot through my skin and I tense, but his scent surrounds me, it's strong and familiar. Lucien. He stands beside me, tall and steady, and somehow his presence calms me. Lily inside me purrs with satisfaction. ‘Traitor,’ I mutter silently. I don’t understand why she’s suddenly excited, purring like she has forgotten we lost our pups because of Victoria’s cruelty.

Lessons, at least, would fill her empty days until the baby was born. Ariston came round to open the passenger door as his other sister joined them, unleashing her own incomprehensible diatribe. Ariston didn’t answer, he just extended a hand to Lucette . She rose from the seat, still in her wedding dress, and as she stood, the material caught on the door and tugged tight, outlining her small bump. Both sisters stopped abruptly and sucked in their breaths. Lucette said, and pinned on a bright and utterly false smile.

And now… He turned to Zayn slowly, realization dawning. “You mean…” Lucien’s voice cracked. “You weren’t… with her?” Zayn looked at him with disbelief, then laughed softly. “ She’s a decorator.” Lucia smiled politely. “Only business, Mr. Lucien. Your husband wanted everything perfect.” Lucien’s throat tightened. Relief washed over him, mixed with shame at his doubt. He reached for Zayn’s hand, gripping it tightly. “I’m sorry for ever doubting you,” he whispered.

Her eyes were open, pale blue, fixed on the ceiling, seeing nothing. Vivienne Thornhart. Lucien's mother. The woman in the photograph Mrs. Hargrove had given me, laughing, singing, braiding a small boy's hair. Gone. Lucien moved to the bedside. He didn't rush. He moved the way he moved in the estate, careful, precise, as if any sudden motion might shatter something fragile. He sat in the chair positioned exactly where previous visits had worn the carpet. He took her hand thin, papery, warm with blood that pumped without purpose.

My stomach twists, hands gripping the doorframe. There he is. On the floor by the couch. A woman straddling him, her mouth devouring his. They don’t stop. They don’t even notice me standing there. Tears blur my vision. My chest rips open. “Professor Lucien!” My scream cracks with rage and heartbreak. That’s when he shoves her off. She turns. And my jaw drops. Camille. The fiancée who was supposed to be dead. She rises gracefully, smoothing her dress, then wipes her lipstick off his mouth with a fingertip.

Have you found her Book Of Light yet? A concerned citizen My heart begins to race - who would send this to me now? Charlotte has been gone for 6 months. Surely this information would've been useful back when her death was being investigated? It would be a lie to say I didn't have a suspicion when it first happened that something wasn't right. Especially as Charlotte was such a strong swimmer and was even on the swim team back in high school. But when they ruled it accidental and couldn't find any evidence of foul play I took the Police and authorities at their word. Surely this couldn't be a prank? And a heartless one at that!