Veronica Costume Heathers Novels & Stories

That would be the end of it, but she might still be able to salvage their work relationship. Helen reached into her bag and pulled out the clothes she decided would represent what she normally wore. As Vera, she was wearing a black off-the-shoulder top and a brown corduroy skirt. She brought baby blue capris and a white fitted t-shirt. It was plain and ordinary and exactly her style.

Then she pressed her palms to her cheeks and discovered they were burning. The café was small, tucked between a boutique bookstore and a flower shop. Exposed brick walls, mismatched wooden chairs, the smell of fresh croissants and dark roast. At ten minutes to ten, Veronica was already seated in the corner booth, hands wrapped around a mug of black coffee she hadn’t touched. She had changed her outfit three times before leaving the house. In the end she’d chosen simple—high-waisted navy trousers, a soft ivory sweater that draped just off one shoulder, hair loose for once, falling in waves past her collarbones.

"From now on, I'll be Silver Moon pack's Luna. I arranged all those paparazzi myself. Even if he regrets it, it's too late. Sage, I've endured this for years - if you hadn't met Marcus first, what chance would you have had?" I read through all this calmly and couldn't help but laugh. The sound made Cameron look up in concern. "Are you alright, Alpha heiress?" "I'm perfect," I said, still chuckling.

On my mating ceremony with my Alpha mate Derek, I felt my heart stop when his stepsister Victoria waltzed in wearing the exact Luna ceremonial dress I had been begging Derek to buy me for months. "It's just a dress, Scarlett. We need to save our resources for pack matters," Derek had told me when I asked for it. Victoria glided across the room toward me. She embraced me, her lips brushing against my ear. "Congratulations on becoming Luna." She whispered, her voice honey-sweet with poison underneath. "Do you really think you deserve that title? You don't even have a proper Luna dress. Derek told me only I am worthy of wearing this gown."

The Starbucks was getting crowded, and they both felt like leaving. "Oh, yes! Sure, your driving is pretty fast," Heather teased. "Where to?" Atlas inquired as they made their way out of Starbucks toward his parked car. "I'm going to audition," Heather revealed to him as they walked. "For what?" "An audition, duh! To become an actress! Kathryn Bernardo, Anne Curtis, Liza Soberano, and then me! I'm next!" "It's free to dream, right?" Atlas playfully teased, which Heather didn't appreciate at all.

And now he belonged to someone else. “Still chasing ghosts?” The voice sliced through the silence like a blade. Rashel turned slowly. Veronica. Tall, elegant, and dangerous in the way only a mistress could be, Veronica stepped out from the shade of the colonnade, her heels clicking against the stone path like warning shots. Her gown, sheer black silk and dripping with confidence, clung to her figure like armor. “What do you want?” Rashel folded her arms. “To give you some advice. A courtesy, really. One woman to another.” Veronica smiled.

“Poor thing. She actually thought she could go up against me. Now she’s lost her ballerina career and her husband to me.” For years, I had thought that maybe if I were still the beautiful ballerina Caleb once loved, none of this would have happened. But now it dawned on me he had never loved me from the start. “Because you deserve everything good, not some riffraff your parents found in a drug house.” I couldn’t listen anymore. I turned to leave, but I ran into Avery instead. “Veronica, what are you doing here?” she asked with distaste as she crossed her arms.

"I don't want to! I just like you. I don't want to see orchids with other boys. Ambrose, please go with me. Just this time, okay?" Veron shook Ambrose's arm gently as she spoke and acted like a spoiled child. Ambrose's head was in a mess. Then, when he was thinking about how to refuse, the room door not far away opened, and Heather slowly walked out. At that time, Heather was no longer dressed like a Sea Mackie but in a traditional dress of the Nine Mainland. She wore a long white dress flowing in the wind and was as beautiful as a fairy. "Heather!" Seeing Heather come out of her room, Ambrose seemed to have grasped his chance at finally escaping Veron. He shouted happily and walked up to He

I down the remainer of my drink and nod, "anything else you'd like to say to your future Alpha?" I swipe my hand down my face, when I hear footsteps in the distance, I stand and look up, Veronica is starting to walk down the stairs, she's gorgeous, in a red halter top dress, flowing down her body, hugging her curves, she looks like a goddess in that dress. I tilt my head as I see her hair, is up in some kind of honeycomb sweep, as her face gets closer I immediately put on a stoic mask, who the fuck did this make up, she doesn't even look like herself. "Bastien, what's wrong?" her voice cracks.

Pressed my forehead against the pack house door when I finally closed it behind me, breathing slowly, letting my heart rate negotiate its way back to something reasonable. "Well. You look exactly like one of those street hookers." Of course. I turned around. Veronica stood in the corridor in an ebony dress absolutely covered in sequins, both hands on her hips, radiating the specific energy of someone who had been awake since dawn, specifically to ruin my morning. I looked at the dress. I looked at the sequins. I looked at the way the fabric was losing a structural argument with her figure in every direction simultaneously. I pressed my lips together very firmly.