Lyon Novels & Stories

Gerald calls out, his voice deep, it sent some chills into her body. "Am sorry about last..., " "Am outside, would accept your apology, if you can give it in person." He says cutting her off, probably knowing what she want to say, making Alexandra bite her lips involuntarily. She hesitates a bit before responding. "Okay." "Ruby. I will be back soon." With that, she takes off. ________________________🖊 "Juliet, have you seen Raphael anywhere?" Madison asks immediately she and Alison walks into the sitting room. Sighting Juliet, who was seated alongside Karis, who seemed engrossed with whatever she was doing on her phone.

It was a simple plan. One that would leave them strong and help protect the village from the impending attack. But the trick however was finding the right time and space. Time was of the essence and if they were going to have any chance, acting fast and attacking first was the only weapon they had at their disposal. The miracle of surprise. “The army would march from the south through the brush of the western forest,” Fanyi said, pushing one of the stones into the circle. “And if our itinerary gets rooted here, we can attack from this spot with everything we’ve got.”

“How lovely. Lavender.” Marianne did a double-take. “Lavender? Claire, what are you talking about?” Tense voice, a sheen of sweat across her face. “It smells musty. Not nice at all.” Claire rolled her eyes, wearing a faint grin, and said to forget it. Alex joined her at one of the large windows. They gazed out at the hills of St. Albans and the surrounding countryside. An impressive sight and difficult for Claire to find anything to compare to Belle Vue. He picked up her hand and kissed it in the way she liked.

“Hey guys, I need to know when we are going to head over to that warehouse that Amy said was about ten miles from Juxney’s. I’m not sure I remember where that is.” “I know where that is.” Gael said. “We used to use that field over there to play baseball and soccer.” “Well, we need to get over there and get those she-wolves. Every day that passes is another day they could be in misery, and I can’t have that.” Phoenix said with authority in her voice. Sonya asked, “How do we know that it isn’t a trap? I mean Amy may have been lying.” “Oh no, we know it isn’t a trap.” Tina said as she got up to grab some more food. That girl could put it away.

Gaston purred, his voice a deep, gravelly rasp of pure suspicion. "C'est un honneur de rencontrer un autre fils de Lyon. Dites-moi, mon ami, comment va le vieux pont de la Guillotière ces jours-ci? Est-ce que la petite boulangerie au coin de la rue de la Barre vend toujours ces merveilleuses brioches aux pralines?” (“It is an honor to meet another son of Lyon. Tell me, my friend, how is the old Guillotière Bridge these days? Does the little bakery on the corner of Rue de la Barre still sell those wonderful praline brioches?”)

The Lef‌t Bank of Peace The morn‍ing sun over the Left Bank didn't look⁠ like the lig​ht in Ne⁠w York. It was a pal‌e⁠, si‍l​ver-gr⁠e‌y wa⁠sh that cau​ght the edges of the limestone chi⁠m​neys ac‍ross the stree⁠t a​nd‌ tur‌ned the surfac‌e of the Seine into a ribbon of‍ wrinkled foil. It​ was quiet—so quiet that Cel⁠este could hea​r t⁠he di⁠stinct, met‍alli​c *clink* of a bicy‌cle c‍hai​n on the‍ cobblestones three floors below her terrace.

Sophia muttered, turning around. “Come with me. You’re not going to rot in bed while you're in a romantic city like this,” she said, taking Yolanda’s hand. Jonathan took Evania to Montmartre, the bohemian hilltop. They took the train all the way to the top. Evania sat by the window, observing the vibrant hill. She paused at the narrow streets, taking in the fresh air from the gardens. The whole place had a village charm, filled with artists and their vibrant work.

“Okay, we’re close. Where do we go?” “You’re actually going to a nearby airfield for private planes – Aéroport de Paris, Le Bourget,” Mailin instructs me, saying the French words with a pretty impressive accent. “Tell your driver that.” “Hey, we’re going to the air-o-poor duh Pair-ee… uh… what was that again?” I ask Mailin. “Le Bourget.” “Luh Bor-zhay,” I repeat to the driver. “Do you know that?” “Ah, oui, oui,” the guy says, and switches lanes.

Then Leo whispered the words any girl longed to hear. “Let’s go shopping Love. We have lots of ground to cover. We simply must hit Chanel, Dior, Vuitton, Gucci, and Boss before this evening. Then Love, a trip to Notre Dame and dinner at Le Petit Chatelet, world famous for its Escargot.” Amber scrunched up her nose, “You had me at shopping babe. But you lost me at Escargot.”

Bella POV A week later. Lyon in October is the color of something ending gracefully. I looked out the window of Sebastien's car as we drove from the airport. The trees along the wide boulevard were turning shades of deep amber and rust. The afternoon light was flatter and warmer than Silverton's, and the city moved at a quiet, unhurried pace. Sebastien had spent decades building his life here. I could see it in the way pedestrians smiled and nodded as his car passed by—not with fear, but with genuine respect.