Vera Stanhope Books Novels & Stories

A femal voice makes me jump and slam the fridge shut, turning to see a slightly older woman in a black uniform. “You didn’t need to do that. I-” I cut myself off, “I’m sorry, who are you?” “My name is Hestia,” The woman smiles, “Your new best friend. Would you like a proper tour?” I chew on my lip as I process her words, “My new best friend?” “Yes ma’am,” Hestia nods, shifting her weight onto her right leg, “Master Daniels has entrusted me with your wellbeing. I can cook and tell you anything you’d like to know.”

Vera’s jaw dropped, then she barked a laugh that would’ve gotten us written up for HR violations if we had an HR. “Wait, Lydia Sykes? The stalker with the chin mole and the invisible eyebrows?” I nodded, shoving half the bar in my mouth. “She’s got a hell of a grip, apparently.” Vera fanned herself, then started blowing air up her skirt, hands fluttering between her thighs like she was trying to waft out a fire. “Jesus, it’s like a goddamn oven down there.” “You’ll need ice, not air,” I observed, popping the rest of the bar into my mouth. “Unless your wolf man’s running hotter than usual.”

* I took the document case and walked the rest of the way without looking back. Vera is maybe sixty, with short grey hair and eyes that take inventory of everything they land on. No jewelry. No ceremony robes. She's sitting at a plain folding table in a tent that could belong to any mid-level pack administrator, nothing on the walls, two chairs and a lamp. The spelled safe in the corner is the only thing that looks expensive. She watches me set the case on the table without moving. "Luna Whitmore," she says. "I've heard interesting things about you."

` Vera replied, staring hard at her. She taunted, "Little Tessa has a Goliath fighting for her. Oh, I am sorry if my words were insultive, but you see, from where I come from, women like Tessa aren't recognised because they`re invisible and worthless to family growth.` No, she didn't just call me worthless, invisible, and barren at the same time. I wanted to grab her and slap my senses into her, but it seemed Vera read my facial expression and stepped in for me again.

A striking woman with dark hair and red lips smiled at her with eyes full of venom. “I’m Veronica Steele,” she whispered, her smile never faltering. “I used to stand where you are now.” Olivia blinked. “You…?” “Oh, yes,” Veronica said, sipping her champagne. “Nuel’s lover. Once upon a time. Don’t get too comfortable, darling. Men like him don’t change. You’re not a wife to him. You’re a placeholder.” Olivia’s chest tightened. Before she could respond, Veronica leaned even closer, her perfume sharp and suffocating.

I wouldn’t know why but I would follow their orders. “Who are you? Please state your name.” My eyes widened a fraction when I heard the animal talk. It was speaking using a female voice—meaning this animal was a she-wolf. But my parents told me that animals couldn't talk, what kind of creature was she? She was so alluring to be a monster! “I-I’m Vera Moore,” I stuttered because of bewilderment. "Why are you here in the woods? Alone? Go back home and don't ever come back here in the woods, kid."

But as soon as she got into the living room, the two books were on the table. "Why are these books here?" she asked herself. The last time she saw these, they were in her room, on the bookshelf. She looked around; the place was too quiet. "They must have realized that I left," she whispered. Verena grabbed the ancient books and hugged them tightly. "I have to see what's going on, I need to," she said to herself. It was three in the afternoon, and there's no way that she'd be seeing the moon at this time. She needed a moment before she took a look at the witch's book.

**THE WHORE OF AETHELGARD: HOW THE THORNE WARD STOLE THE BILLIONAIRE.** **FROM CHARITY CASE TO SHE-DEVIL: VESPERA VANE’S BETRAYAL.** **IS CYPRIAN HALE THE VICTIM OF A HONEY TRAP?** The headlines scrolled across the sixty-inch holographic display in the kitchen, each one nastier than the last. Vespera’s face—pixelated and blown up from the gala footage—was plastered on every news network in Neo-Veridia.

The silence after the storm was deceptive. Veronica Hale had vanished from public view, but that didn’t mean she’d surrendered. Not to Damien. Not to Celeste. Not to the world that had turned its spotlight from worship to scrutiny. She was quiet, but she was calculating. In a dim-lit room of her estate in the Hollywood Hills, surrounded by unopened letters and half-drunk wine glasses, Veronica stared at an old lockbox. Her hand hovered over the key. Inside it was her last card.

It couldn't be. The Serenity he remembered was plain, quiet, and submissive. She always wore cheap clothes and kept her head down. She was nothing like this breathtaking goddess. But that face... he would know that face anywhere. Chloe, standing next to him, turned pale. Her fingernails dug into her palms. "How... how is she here?" Vera (Serenity) reached the bottom of the stairs. The host rushed over to hand her the microphone. "Thank you," her voice was smooth and melodious, echoing in the silent hall. "I am Vera. It's an honor to be back in New York."