Black Black Veil Brides Novels & Stories

Cinthye will make sure Damien will see her defiance in any way possible. Her black laced wedding gown trailed down the floor, long slit running up to her right thigh. Black flowers on her hands. The heavy double doors of the church open. Today's headline: Black Bride Actress. Jaws dropped on the floor when she entered the hall. Snaps and blinding lights of the camera made her walk as if she's in the runway. A tall build waiting on the aisle sinfully handsome, his tattoos peeking from his suit. Damien Voss stand tall like he owned everything.

My feet carried me to the far corner, where one gown stood out magnificently. It wasn't soft or delicate; it was sharp and fierce and purely in black color. The consultant blinked in confusion. “Oh ma’am, that one is… unconventional. Most brides pre....” “I’m not most brides,” I cut in with a scoff, my fingertips brushing the midnight fabric. Ava let out a small gasp; her face was still pale, and she was still trembling in fear. “You…you’re really going to wear black? To your wedding?” My lips curve into a small satisfied smirk as I turn my head, meeting my reflection in the tall mirror across the room.

The heavy oak doors at the back of the nave swung open, and the light from 5th Avenue flooded in, silhouetting the figure of the bride. ​Vivienne walked down the aisle with the mechanical grace of an automaton. Her veil, a twenty-foot expanse of antique lace, trailed behind her like a fallen cloud. She didn't look at the guests. She didn't look at the flowers. Her eyes were fixed on the crucifix behind the altar, her mind a numb, gray void. ​As she reached the altar, Julian stepped forward, taking her hand. His grip was firm, a silent reminder of the bruises he had left on her hips that morning. He leaned in, his voice a ghost of a whisper beneath the booming music.

Looks like someone was trying to defy this wedding and create scandal as much as she can, Niklaus mused to himself before the archbishop was clearing his throat. "Dearly beloved Lords and Ladies, we gathered here today—" ***** Becca was breathing hard through the black veil that she instructed Lady Ivashkov to match as she was trying to put as much rebellion to this wedding as she could. Her mother cannot complain when she was requesting this bizarre veil, as well as the wedding gown, should be in emerald green, not the white that most brides would take. Not Becca, not this wedding.

With a heart drumming with joy, I reached out to the file and opened it. I retrieved a white paper inside and stared at it , my gaze scanning on it, grasping the content. The smile on my face faltered, replaced with a deep frown. “Divorce agreement?" I looked up, my brow knotted as confusion flashed in my eyes. Maverick nodded gently and said. “Just like you see. Sign it. I'm quitting the marriage." He simply said, his words hanging in the air. It was as if everything around me froze.

Eli was busy with a lot of work in his study right now, giving her the opportunity to sneak off to her room and pull out the Black book. Her hands trembled as she grabbed it out of where she had carefully tucked it away. With a deep breath, she opened it and started skimming through it. A could of pages in and she knew this was a book she would not be returning. There was just so much information, she would need the whole book with her and a few jottings will never be able to do justice. There were the 199 names of the past brides, the village they were from, the night they were chosen, and the night of their suspected disappearance.

Before the marriage. Before the scandals. Before everything. The recipient name sat clearly at the bottom. Vivian Hart. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. For several seconds the room remained perfectly still. Because something enormous had just shifted. Ava felt it immediately. The sensation was unmistakable. Like standing before a locked door and suddenly hearing the mechanism begin to turn. Not open. Not yet. Just turn. Enough to know something existed on the other side. Damian finally broke the silence. “I think we have been looking at the wrong problem.”

“At least tell me what kind of bad shit.” She stops and looks at me with an expression of worry and pity and pretty much nothing good. “Blacktop is into drugs, sex trafficking, blood fight and a whole lot of disgusting stuff. The fucking Alexei you are madly in love with maybe linked to your sister disappearance.”

Grateful for any small human sound that could exist beside the note. Elaine’s tablet chimed again. She looked down. “I have preliminary enhancement on the paper edge,” she said. “There are partially printed letters at the torn side.” Daniel turned. “From what kind of document?” “Inventory or storage list.” Elaine adjusted the image. “I can make out ‘bridal,’ possibly ‘veil,’ and a number.” Leah’s heart beat hard. The veil. Not only the dress. The veil had hidden her face at the altar. The veil had allowed a lie to walk down the aisle with everyone pretending not to see what was wrong.

She grabbed her water glass like it was a lifeline, brows raised in silent demand. Delilah spoke first, words strangling out. “So what exactly is the word, Zeden?” I set my fork down. Met both their eyes, then turned to Amber. “Bride.” The word landed clean and final. “My bride.” The glass slipped from Mother’s hand. It shattered against the floor in a spray of shards and water. Delilah swayed in her seat, face draining of color like someone had pulled a plug. And Amber—fuck, the shock on her face hit me harder than either of them.