Lucy In Timeless Novels & Stories

“VP Clark, Lucy—this is our jewelry designer for the show. This is Adela.” Adela offered a small, polite smile and nodded in greeting. Her eyes swept briefly over VP Clark—elegant and clearly competent—then settled on Lucy. Dark red lipstick, chestnut waves, and heavy makeup that didn’t fully cover the dry patches on her nose. So this was Lucy—the actress tangled in all those recent Layson Norman dating rumors.

In the presidential suite of the Royal Hotel, the entire room was filled with the disgusting smell of sex. Lucy Quinn looked at the two people cuddling with a sarcastic smile on her lips. She clenched her fists because her wedding day was tomorrow. If she had not come over to deliver Timothy Lucas his suit, she would still be completely in the dark about this affair. She wasted five whole years of her youth on that bastard! “Lucy, Tim and I are in love… Please forgive us!” Tears were streaming down Luna Quinn’s ashen face, and she clung to the man while sobbing.

“I have nothing to lose.” Lucy didn’t argue. She just nodded and moved to fix my hair, pulling it into soft waves that framed my face. The midnight black dress she’d chosen for me clung to every curve like a second skin, with a slit that ran dangerously high on my thigh. When I stood up, even I barely recognized myself. “You’re so beautiful…” Lucy whispered, stepping back to admire her work. Then, she folded her arms, smug as ever. “Trenton won’t know what hit him.”

What if Lucy still became Luna? I pushed the thought away. Trust him. I carried a basket of clean cloth toward the kitchen when I saw Lucy. She stood near the doorway, speaking with two older women. She wore a soft cream dress today. Her hair fell loose down her back. She looked peaceful. When she noticed me, she smiled. “Kaira,” she said sweetly. “Good morning.” “Good morning,” I answered. She stepped closer, her voice low. “You look better today.” “I am fine,” I said.

She didn't even dare to look as it might break her deeper this time. That's when the next memory bleeds in. Her younger self, sitting beside that man again. Only this time, his face—once blurred, obscured—began to focus. And what a face it was! He looked like he’d stepped out of another world. Truly a beautiful man. Not in the polished, calculated way of runway models or film idols—but in the timeless, mythic way that gods must look before they break the world. His features were elegant, carved with quiet grace. Skin kissed by sunlight, topaz eyes that glowed like sunlit amber set deep under feathered lashes. His dark hair shimmered like obsidian threads, loosely tied with golden string.

A reluctant surrender, a grudging acknowledgment that she was not the fragile girl her family had painted her to be. He crossed the courtyard, took her hand, and pressed it against his chest. “Then you’ll fight with me. Never alone.” Lucy nodded, though the weight of those words settled heavily in her bones. Together. The promise both steadied her and scared her. The next morning dawned pale and golden, light spilling into the estate through the tall arched windows. Lucy rose early, restless from dreams where Patricia’s voice kept replaying the word pawn like a curse. She found herself wandering into the grand kitchen, where Elena fussed over bread dough, and then into the sunlit gallery hal

However, it was the last one-to-one conversation of the day that upset Nicholas the most, to the point where he informed John that he was going home and that his first interaction with the whole group would be the next day. Lucy was one of the youngest candidates in the program and, like most young women, dreamy, cheerful, spontaneous. Her smile was adorable and seemed candid, and her laugh was infectious. She was also very petite, which was all the more evident at that moment when she was wearing flat sandals rather than the high heels of the day of the party. Her hair was long, dark and shiny and her eyes expressive. Even though there was no other physical resemblance, those features were

Early in the morning, a cool touch brushed against his chest, like a light kiss. Wyatt was not fully awake. He pulled the person in his arms closer instinctively, gently catching their fingertips. He softly said, filled with drowsy affection, "Lulu, come on…" Then, he suddenly tensed. That hand. Lucy was once a caretaker and a housekeeper. She had known hardship from a young age, and her hands had calluses. Even later, when she got married to him, he had commissioned custom-made hand cream for her, but the calluses remained.

Discover unique solutions to various types of supernatural problems. The world was so much bigger than I thought it was. "I still miss your reading glasses," Lucy murmured, her voice breaking me out of my thoughts. She turned slightly to look at me, her fingers tracing the contour of my chin. "They made you look so dignified." I chuckled, "Oh? I don't look dignified now?" I leaned in to kiss her behind her ear. "No," she giggled as my lips tickled her. "I miss you looking like a cute old librarian."

"Yeah, I mean, just because I'm leaving doesn't mean I want to cut you out. You're still my dad, after all." He reached out and squeezed my shoulder. "That would be great, Lulu. I don't want you to be a stranger, whatever happens." I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. Damn, when did I become such a sap? "Maybe we could make it a monthly thing? You know, catch up, swap stories about how many souls we've corrupted?" Lucifer chuckled, a warm sound that filled the throne room. "I'd like that. And who knows? Maybe I'll even learn a thing or two about modern temptation from you."