Black Black Veil Brides Novels & Stories

And then she appeared. I’d seen photographs — but nothing prepared me for this. She didn’t walk down the aisle. She owned it. Owned the silence. Owned the gasps. A black veil covered her face, but I could still see the curve of her jaw, the smirk tugging at her lips, the gleam in her dangerous eyes. Her gown was more like a funeral dress — hugging every curve with unapologetic sex appeal. Not a bride. A black widow. And somehow… I was both furious and intrigued.

" The vow he made then was as solid as rock, as if it would never fade. However, I had forgotten that time could erode even the most solemn promises of love. The day before the wedding, I noticed a white dress in the living room. Its hem was trailing across the floor. A bold red rose was embroidered across the chest. Adriana came up to me eagerly. "Giada, look! I made this wedding dress for you myself. Carlo said you have a fondness for rustic elegance, so I went out of my way to design it based on vintage photos. It took me ages!" Even though I had already resolved to move on, I couldn't stop myself from frowning at the sight of this so-called wedding dress.

"And do you, Kendra Matilda Vance, take Damien..." Avery swallowed the thick lump in her throat. She stared up at the dark lenses of his glasses. "I do," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." Avery’s breath hitched. A kiss? She hadn't prepared for this. Slowly, Damien stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. The scent of cedarwood, expensive rain, and pure, masculine authority enveloped her entirely. He raised his left hand, his long, elegant fingers gently lifting the heavy lace veil from her face.

I changed into a vintage white bridal gown and pulled the veil down over my head. We descended nine levels underground before finally reaching the crystal coffin chamber of Our Lord. The place was lavish beyond belief, like some underground palace. The moment the veil was lifted, the first thing I noticed was the legendary pearl sitting on the altar. It was actually gold. Only, it had been sealed inside an absurdly thick glass case. Beside it lay several pages of notes listing Our Lord’s preferences. “Likes cosplay.”

"This is impossible!" Lana's voice shifted in pitch as she gazed at the wedding invitation. "You're... really getting married? Cruz! You went ahead and got a marriage license with her without letting me know? And you even altered the name? You... You've gone too far!" Lana's eyes quickly turned red. Tears swirled in her eyes like she was in extreme distress. I was completely speechless, thinking, 'This woman must have graduated from an acting school! It's a pity she didn't become an actress.' '

Silas continued in that same kind voice, "this is only one possibility. There are so many others to explore. Let me show you more happiness." The scene shifted. Now I was watching Evangeline in a wedding dress made of shadow and starlight. She walked down an aisle lined with creatures of nightmare, her face glowing with joy that seemed painted on. At the altar, Silas waited for her, magnificent in robes of midnight blue. When she reached him, he lifted her veil and kissed her with passion that looked rehearsed, like they'd practiced for an audience. "Do you, Lunara Blackthorne, take this man to be your king and husband, in darkness and in light, for all eternity?" a voice asked.

The crowd gasped and whispered of surprise as I walked forward. Why wouldn't they be surprised? I am sure it was for the first time that they had witnessed a bride in a black gown. Yes, black just like my soon-to-be husband's personality. The moment Nikolai's head turned to me, his jaw dropped and his eyes widened. His reaction was worth capturing. It may be a wedding for him but for me, it is my funeral. I killed the old me. ~~~~~ Nikolai De Moretti I was utterly taken aback when I saw my bride. For a moment I forgot how to breathe.

The bride was late. Seated at the front pew beside Benedict and Dorothea Jones’ empty seats, his parents remained composed—his father, Cillian Hawthorne, a statue, as he had always been, with his blank facial expression and dead eyes, while his mother, Naomi Hawthorne, draped in an opulent gold dress that nearly stole the attention meant for the absent bride. He could feel her gaze cutting through him like a blade as she whispered furiously to his father. Jaxon checked his wristwatch. Another five minutes gone. Where is Penelope?

as the bride. Lexi, Antonio's bride. Her dress was something else entirely, a colour she didn't even know she'd choose. It was black, lace-trimmed with a fitted bodice that hugged her figure, perfectly. It was adorned with delicate silver filigree and intricate embroidery that sparkled like stars under the lights. The flowing train cascaded behind her like a dark water fall, its edges scalloped and beaded. A delicate, crystal-encrusted belt cinched at her waist, accentuating her porcelain skin. Her long black hair added to her majestic presence and the silver veil covering her face made her look like a gothic princess turned gothic bride.

He said, his voice flat, eyes fixed ahead like ice that refused to melt. “Why?” I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it, curiosity tugging at the edge of my voice. “Are you gay?” I asked again, my voice showed disgust. He burst into laughter, “No I'm not.” He said, his facial expression cold, “Is it Emilia?” I asked again, waiting for an answer. He shrugged, “Maybe, you know for some reason she's my first love.” He said, I could see the sadness in eyes, “I'm really sorry.” I said as my hands reached for his, gently rubbing them in quiet consolation. He nodded like a child and said, “I want you to come with me in two days time, I will be going to my father's mansion for his