Virgin Bride Novels & Stories

Zac's eyes flicked around before hypocritically advising, "Lana, Cruz must be joking! He still cares about you. Otherwise, why would he prepare such a grand wedding? Look, he can't just bring any woman to upset you on such a joyous occasion! Lana, quickly explain to Cruz that everything you posted on social media was just to provoke him and for show! Don't let this make you late!" Lana instantly believed Zac, and her arrogant expression returned. She gazed triumphantly at me, acting like she had everything in the bag. "Cruz, you think you can provoke me by bringing any woman here? Not a chance! If you don't agree to my terms, I won't marry you today!"

“The Virgin Mary herself or should we call you… Mother Whore?” Nicole barked a laugh. Tonia just leaned against the desk like she’d been cast in a movie. “You’ve been busy,” Bridget said, scanning the wreckage of my expression. “All that fake innocence. What’s it like knowing the whole school’s seen your tits before the baby has?” “Get out,” I said, but it came out weaker than I meant. She grinned wider. “I don’t think so,” she said. “See, you brought this on yourself. Strutting around like you were better than us, like being poor makes you virtuous.”

Mum stayed with me, making sure I looked my best. “Are you sure about this?” she asked at last, probably because I didn’t look excited. “We’re already here,” I replied. “Let’s go.” I haven’t seen Brooke for the past seven days since I arrived at his pack. It’s tradition for the bride not to see the groom seven days before the wedding. My parents are here. So is my brother. Whatever happens today is for the best. Slowly, I approached the marital ground under the full moon, my long gown trailing behind me. I could already see the crown. Tonight, I will be mated to Brooke and become the Luna of the Virex pack.

"Son, the only thing people will be looking at is Julianna's ring. Though, dear, we must finalize your dress designer by tomorrow. A Marchetti bride must look untouchable." My mother leaned in, sweet and submissive. "Oh, absolutely, Gaia. I've made sure she understands the modesty expected of a traditional bride." A traditional bride who didn't need to be a virgin. My stomach tightened. You didn't go to school all the way in Las Vegas only to remain a useless virgin. And here I was here, still a virgin, still useless by his measure. Under the table, Alistair's hand tightened — a pressure that promised bruises by morning.

"It's...complicated, Tiffany. Let's just say I'm in a situation, and I'm unsure about the other person's feelings." Tiffany's expression turned curious, and she gave her a 'I won't give up till you tell me' look. "Okay, fine," Camille whispered. "I'm in a contract marriage. It's not a real marriage, just a mutually beneficial arrangement." Tiffany's eyes widened. "Whoa, that's unexpected! Who's the lucky guy?" Camille's cheeks flushed. " We met coincidentally, and...it's complicated." Tiffany leaned in closer. "Complicated how? Is he gorgeous? Rich? What's the deal?"

Smiled. “Instead,” he said, stepping back, “I’ve asked someone else to be my bride.” My knees nearly gave way but I stood still, every cell in my body screaming. Out of the crowd, she stepped forward. Clarissa. My sister. Wearing my dress. "Liam," I breathed. "What are you doing?" He didn’t answer me. He extended his hand, to her. “Clarissa, love, come here.” And just like a rehearsed pageantry, she strode down the red carpet, a smile carved on her lips as she walked towards him, confident, calm and cruel.

Ignoring all of the winks, waves and wolf whistles from the passing flock, I zeroed in on ensuring that we were still safe, still unrecognizable to all the men our father had posted everywhere. The expanse of his network is exhausting and annoying, most especially when you've snuck out and are certainly not supposed to be in a burlesque-esque club in downtown Brooklyn. Because we are the pure princesses, fated to be married off to some dangerous bastard or the other. God forbid Massimo Rinaldi's daughters' purity was questioned. That was, after all, the most important selling point to these narrow-minded bastards- Virgin Brides. I rolled my eyes at the very th

What was most disgusting about all of this is the fact that a kind of ritual would be done after the wedding. Where the husband will have to show a Bloodstained handkerchief to the awaiting crowd so that they'll know that the new bride is a virgin. ' Gross. ' I thought. I removed all these thoughts from my mind and proceeded to eat my food With satisfaction. I savored the feeling of the freshly baked bread and the Fried egg which contained, Fish, Onions, Carrots, And some minced cabbages. I felt a little emotional as I ate on. Due to two reasons.

If they wanted a rattled bride, they wouldn’t get it from me. Instead I smiled and laughed with Celia at her suggestion of tennis shoes. I would be expected to dance the night away and we worried about comfortability. Luckily, she produced a soft pair of kitten heels that wouldn’t cause pain. The white shoes showed off my red toes, the heels encrusted with vines of silver and blue. It was a nod to my Astor name, the crimson color of blood, and virgin status of the bride. Or at least that’s what Celia told me. I laughed at the idea of being a virgin on my wedding day and felt no shame.

The uncertainty was overwhelming. Wearing a gorgeous, modern, and subtly sexy soft crepe wedding gown with matte lace detailing and a tulle skirt that hugged my body, I might have looked dazzling and breathtaking in my white veil, but I couldn't appreciate it. I remembered the superstition that a bride wearing a white veil was a virgin. I might be proud to walk down the aisle still pure, but if only I loved the man I was about to marry, I would be overjoyed to give him my virginity. It was a cruel joke, considering I had no idea what my groom looked like or what our life together would be like.