Lucy Thorne Novels & Stories

Selena didn’t know how long it had been since Theo, with all the grace of a gremlin godparent, grabbed her by the arm and hurled her face-first through a magical door like he was tossing a sack of mildly cursed potatoes. Now here she was—cheek smushed against the dusty, mossy floor of what looked like a half-abandoned temple from a low-budget horror film. Her dignity had clearly been left behind somewhere between the ER and whatever cursed GPS coordinates this shrine belonged to.

That meant Lucy wasn’t just some rising designer. The same girl I once mocked for being poor and worthless now had the power to destroy everything my family built. Lucy Castleworth. My new obsession.

Her eyes burned, but she didn’t cry. Because there was no room for tears. Not for girls like her. And somewhere above her—in a ballroom lined with gold—Lucien Thorne stood beside the princess he would one day marry, unaware that the one thing he’d been destined to find was already running from him. Already hiding. Already his.

she said dropping her pile of books in my hand which was already occupied with her bag. But I was not worried, I could finish the assignment in time and get to her house for my make over session. But when I went to her house that night, it was a different story. Her Aunty Mrs Elena Landers opened the door looking tired as usual. She was mate less and had no children and after Lucy's parents left, she had to take care of her. “Lucy is not at home, didn’t she tell you she was going out with that boy?” Mrs Elena told me, the bottle of pills in her hand rattling as she moved.

A dull ache in my chest was threatening to overwhelm me. "Was Penny... Pardon me, Your Grace," Bethany interrupted my focus. "Was the baby y..." she hesitated, her eyes filled with curiosity. My jaw clenched, trying to hide the flicker of pain in my eyes. The words died in her throat as she registered my reaction. "Does either of you know if Lucy is from Grafton?" "No, Your Grace," Walter replied. "She's lived in Campbell as long as I can remember. She was the princes' nanny until the queen went missing."

She immediately dropped down the phone to quickly bath and dress up, now realizing how late she was running for work. She got up and tries to walk up to the bathroom only for the phone to ring once again. She looked at the it to know who the caller was this time. It was her cousin Lucile calling. She picked up the phone to answer the call. "Hello" she said. "Hello aunty" Lucile replied "how are you doing" "I'm fine Lucy. What's up". "Nothing. I just wanted to see how you are doing. Given the circumstances at which you left from our last meeting. "

School holidays were when Catherine felt absolutely grateful because after her thesis works, she finally gets to attend to the mystery she’s been wanting to solve for years now. Finally, she’s got her hand on the flash drive that contained the CCTV footage, and she reached Tacky’s apartment door. She knocked in a special pattern for Tacky to know that it was her. After a few seconds, the knob of the door twisted and Tacky welcomed Catherine with a smile. “So,did you have it?”

Slowly, she turned, her face carefully blank but her silence told me everything. I let a smirk curl at my lips. “If you ever decide to chase those feelings… you’ll die before you even know it. Leave this house while you still can.” Lucia’s eyes narrowed. “You ignorant little girl,” she whispered, stepping back inside. “You think you’ve tasted the real Thorne? He gave you a slice of his breath, and now you think you own the air in his lungs?” Why will I ever think of owning that son of a demon?

I haven't known anything about Lucian yet, and I couldn't wait to know more about him. Who cares if he's an incubus? Thorne, Raven, and Lucian were handsome in their own way, but Lucian turned out to be the most seductive one—he's an incubus, so that shouldn't come as a shock. "She's Lyra, childhood friend of Thorne." I snapped back to reality after hearing the word 'she.' "Huh?" I muttered, my eyes landing on the picture of the so-called Lyra. I'd be a liar if I said she wasn't beautiful.