Veil Red Novels & Stories

Then I set the phone down and got up. The sun was starting to move across the kitchen wall, catching on the edge of my discarded wedding veil on the counter. I’d brought it home last week after the final fitting. I picked it up now, ran my fingers over the delicate lace. A few days ago, I’d imagined walking down the aisle wearing it. Now it felt like someone else’s dream. Someone I used to be. In the middle of that thought, the TV in the living room flickered on. I hadn’t touched the remote. It was the news feed that auto-played sometimes when my cable restarted.

Of course, they did. The hall outside Salle C opened onto a long arcade of stained-glass windows. The late afternoon had slipped toward evening, the light fading from washed-out gray to bruised color. Sun slanted through the glass in bands of red, gold, and blue that painted the stone walls and the polished floor in shards of borrowed fire. Her muscles hummed from the fight, a pleasant ache in her arm where the foil had bitten into her grip. She could still feel the ghost of Noah’s shoulder against her chest. The sharp, ugly sound he’d made when she’d turned him.

Charlie stepped toward it and felt her skin prickle, the same electric pressure she felt before a storm breaks. "What is that?" she whispered. "A ward," Wren said. "My mother specializes in them." "You didn't mention she's a witch." "She's not." Charlie gave him a look. "Wren, this is witch behavior." "She's... something else." Before she could demand clarification, Wren lifted his hand and pressed his palm to the veil. The barrier rippled like disturbed water, then parted, revealing a narrow passage of swirling silver light. Wren gestured. "After you."

If he had finally gotten back his wife, his love and the mother of his daughter, then what about her, her love and their child, which was breathing inside her? What about Eizlina? If for him, she had always been just the veil of his first love, Ivara? What about her love, if she had always been The Veil Of Sinner?

Everything about her appearance was designed for maximum impact. She was the kind of woman who turned heads just by stepping into a room, the kind whose presence made others sit up straighter. And right now, she had a rough idea, a very rough idea, why she was here. Vanessa removed her sunglasses with a classiness that needed to be studied, revealing her shade of brown Hawthorne eyes. Her assessing gaze flicked from Zander to Kallista. A soft smirk played on her lips, but there was nothing warm about it.

“After all these years in business, I understand. Today, I can sell anything to anyone, be it men or women. Let me tell you, nowadays, you can only buy the Mozzafiato veil woven by me in this Crystal City. No wonder you’re attracted to it. My veils are excellent; look at the bright colors, feel the comfortable material, and most importantly, this veil normally doesn’t smell like anything, but when the body heats a bit, there’s a subtle fragrance in the fabric. Oh my! Truly bewitching! And more importantly...” The shop owner rubbed the garment, immediately emitting a strange fragrance. Arista sniffed it, confirming that it was indeed a bewitching fragrance. Even Levi furrowed his brows at the

His dark hair fell into his eyes, but the way he looked at me—like he could see straight through my skin—made my breath hitch. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he said, stepping closer. “The Veil’s thin tonight.” “The what?” His jaw tightened. “You really don’t know.” It wasn’t a question. I crossed my arms. “Then maybe explain instead of speaking in creepy one-liners.” He hesitated, looking over his shoulder like he expected something to leap out of the shadows. “The Veil is what keeps… them out. It’s not supposed to show you things unless—” He stopped himself, eyes narrowing. “What did you see?”

​The silk of her ivory travel gown felt less like a garment and more like a restraint, a crisp, elegant reminder of the contract signed in blood and ink just twenty four hours prior in the emptied out shell of the Milan atelier. With a trembling roughened thumb,she touched the small crescent shaped scar on her left collarbone, pressing down until the skin turned stark white, seeking physical pain to ground her against the surreal weight of her new reality. ​The heavy red reddish brown door clicked open with a soft, expensive lock. ​Valeriano. ​He didn't knock,He never knocked but He stepped into the room, shrugging off a charcoal overcoat that carried the sharp, clean scent of rain, ozone, a

"What are you talking about?" He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a delicate, lace-trimmed veil. "This veil," he explained, "will cause you to have the baby and make it seem as though you have died. It will make it look like you died in childbirth, so there will be no questions asked." My breath caught in my throat as I reached out to touch the veil, the fabric soft yet imbued with an ominous weight. "Are you sure about this?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Hazel confused as to what he was up to watched as the doors to his room were thrown open and a maid carrying a small box in her hands walked into the room. When she got to where they were, she bowed her head and offered the box up to Raglan. Raglan did not take the box from her outstretched hands but rather, he opened the box and pulled out a dainty see through, black veil. Though the veil looked so simple, one could see that it was fit for the highest of royalty. The veil was made from a mesh type of material and it looked really dainty. "This is for you," Raglan said, holding the veil towards Hazel.