*not a chapter*

Feel free to skip if you just want to get back to the story | If not, please enjoy this intermission :D

Good day, everyone,

Today is a special day. As of December 16, 2020/when I last checked, *The Color Blue* has reached 1,000 views and 70 'added's. *Cue the applause, mini-fireworks, and general exhuberance!*

I hope you're enjoying the story so far and will continue to read until it's over :D (I'm positively aiming to complete it by Febuary or April at the latest - possibly sooner - we'll see since the new year's coming up and school's going to start up again. But I'm hopeful.)

Not gonna lie, it's been a struggle writing this particular piece, mostly because the world it's set in is so very, *very* vast (I intend on making other books set in the same world) and I don't want to over-complicate the story.

I decided when I first started (late Aug. 2020) writing on AnyStories that if I reached 1k views on anything I wrote/posted, I'd try to do something special. If I ever get to 100 'added's I'll probably do something like this again - or maybe a chapter from another character's POV (point-of-view) - or a Q&A if you guys want to post questions/if there are enough. We'll see.

I like a more interactive sort of writer-reader experience (like I've seen on other platforms I've used, i.e. Wattpad, Figment, Webtoon, etc.).

Anyway, without futher adue, here are a couple of exerpts for some WIP's (work-in-progress) I've been working on. I'm hoping after I'm done with *The Color Blue* to focus on each of these (maybe some others as well) and try to get them going.

Let me know what you think!

-Avie

- - -

***Shades of Red***

Shifting seamlessly, I'm suddenly sprinting through the woods through the land claimed by generations of Reinier Alphas and reach the beach in minutes. I pace angrily, knowing I'm alone now, I let my guard down. I'm human again, kicking at the sand and dead branches so they go flying into the crashing waves.

"One thing!" I yell out at the ocean, frustrated to hell that this is happening to me. "I do one good thing and it comes back to bite me in the-!" I stop short, sensing another presence. I whirl around and come face to face with deep reddish-brown eyes that smolder with a sort of darkness I've only seen in one person before.

"No, go on," the gorgeous man drawls, his deep voice just loud enough to rise above the sounds of the waves. "Don't stop on my account, Cher."

"You!" I point an angry finger at him, getting nice and close so he can't run away this time. "You!" I feel like I'm about to explode I'm so pissed off right now.

"Yea, me. It's good to see you again too, Mon Cheri." He smirks, leaning closer so we're chest to chest - face to face - and I can smell that hearty aroma of cigarette smoke and cologne. And, God, how I've missed that smell. It's almost enough for me to forget my anger. Almost.

"You ignorant, ungrateful son of a-" I'm about to let him have it. About to really chew him out and verbally destroy him from the inside out when he grins and leans in closer so our lips brush. I jump back in surprise. "No. No! I'm pissed off at you right now-"

"Which is why I'm try'n to calm you down." He informs me in that sexy-sweet accent of his. Damn it, I really can't stay mad at this stupid- He even has the power to interrupt my thoughts. "Why're you so worked up, Cher? What do'ya think I did this time?" He wraps his arms around my waist, reeling me into his hard body. I fight the urge to melt against him, to give in to his beautiful and warm greeting. But he's dangerous and my number one suspect for the death of my aunt.

"She's dead," I growl, trying even harder to stay angry, but now I'm just mad at myself for letting this idiot affect me like this. I'm an Alpha for Pete's sake! Pull yourself together, Paris!

"Whoa, hol'up, who's dead?" He looks genuinely confused, loosening his grip on me. "Cher, I haven't touched a weapon of any kind since you stitched me up. I've been too busy recover'n." I saved this ungrateful idiot a year ago, he'd almost drowned trying to get across the thawing river from the east. I took him into Pack territory where I knew he'd be safe, let him stay in one of the houses we keep out on the edges of the territory. Three months later I found him in that same house, torn up and knocking on death's door, and I'd saved him then too. That's when I'd discovered I had helped a Hunter. I patched him up, stayed with him until he was out of the woods, then left him there to rot.

But I did also leave him antibiotics and a small stock of food. How did I get so soft? I'm worse than Aunt Marrissa, my half-breed cousin Scarlett's mother. Now I converse with them on a weekly basis.

Then I look at him, really look at him. He's just as I remembered from last time, dark reddish-brown eyes that stare deep into your soul, shaved head accenting the sharp angles of his handsome face. The only difference is his mocha skin isn't tinted with an ashen undertone - it's practically glowing with health. He's fully recovered then. How can a Hunter be so gorgeous to me? I'm something he's been taught to kill - and he's probably has killed.

"This is wrong," I warn him, my voice is raw. He presses his forehead against mine, not trying to kiss me again, but just staying close to me.

"How can somthin' wrong feel so right?" He asks me, frowning.


- - -

***The Witch's Familiar***

"I'm late! I'm late, I'm late, l-l-l-laaaate-late-*late*!" I hiss under my breath, as if the words would speed up the disjointed pace I find myself using as I juggle various odds and ends. Down the muraled hall and into the school's gymnasium. Who knew a fair would be so important to me after high school. I'm a sophomore in college for Pete's sake! But there I am, twenty years old and setting up a booth in my school's gym...like this whole thing decides my fate.

Who am I kidding? It so does. This may be the single-most important thing I can do this semester. I groan as my foot catches on the stage's first step.

"Fuuudge-biscuits!" I choke, sucking in a much-needed calming breath.

"*Ohmigod*! Lavie, are you okay?" A tall, leggie, Arabic beauty comes running towards me, dark eyes wide. Her dark hair is pinned up in a beautiful plat around her crown, making her straight nose and petite face look even more model-like. Despite the plain clothes she's wearing, a soft-blue t-shirt and dark-wash jeans under her black apron with *Sweet-Treats* embroidered on the front in cursive, pink.

"Fine, Mina." I lie smoothly, flashing the president of our club, Mina Dupree a confident smile.

"Okay," She replies slowly, though doesn't sound convinced, but she doesn't try to help me as I struggle up the remaining five steps. Below, freshman are starting to filter in.

I kneel and drop the various doo-dads and nick-knacks in my arms and breathe a sigh of relief.

"Made it!" I sigh, sorting through the prizes. A weird mix of posters, labeled envelopes, t-shirts, and a very large bag of emoji-stress balls are swiftly re-arranged beside our table.

"Thanks again for getting all this, Lavie," Mina tells me, watching the students coming in, wringing her hands nervously.

"It's no problem, Mina. That's what I'm here for!" I remind her. I'm her personal-assistant, but name. It's literally in the job description to do whatever she needs me to from the hours of 8am-5pm, Monday-Thursday. And I don't mind. Mina is a sweet girl, a little scatter-brained and weird, but well intentioned and one hell of a chef. And I don't mind. Mina is a sweet girl, a little scatter-brained and weird, but well intentioned and one hell of a chef.

"I know, but..." She fidgets, mumbling in that weird way she does some times. I note her playing with the simple bands on her wrists. Tri-colored metal bangles that make absolutely no sound when they bump against each other. A chill skirts up my spine.

*Witchcraft*. The whispered warning in my head makes my right eye twitch. I grimace and turn away, ignoring the repeated whisper as it comes again, louder, from within. **Witchcraft**.

*Ugh. I heard you the first time, dummy.* I mentally hiss back.

"Don't worry about it, Mina. Just make sure you follow the notecards and you'll be good." I try to encourage the witch. Witch, yeah. Mina's got some super powerful mojo in her, not that she's ever out-right demonstrated it. But my own supernatural radar is so sharp you could slice through the Veil with it. Thank the gods I, myself, am not a Witch. No, my talents lie in a different form of trickery.

"Right, notecards," Her faltering words have me looking up at her.

Oh no.

I watch as Mina's hands pat down her pockets, pause, then again - then furiously jump to her back pockets, then into her coat pockets. A near-hysteric look flashes in her eyes, making them look blood-red for the briefest second.

"Mini, you left this on the table," A silky, dark voice comes from behind me.

***Wiiiitch***! The whisper is no longer a whisper but a screech. ***Wiiiitch***!

"*Fuuu*-dge," I groan aloud as the inner voice nearly deafens me. The word comes out different in my head, but poor Mina is agitated enough without hearing my 'potty-mouth' as her devil-incarnate sibling always tells me. It's his fault that I haven't been able to properly curse in the last three months. Speak of the devil...

"Oh, Choi, I didn't see you there." The same annoyingly smooth voice says. I feel my shoulders hunch automatically in a vain attempt to ward off the impending confrontation. "What's wrong, cat got your tongue?" He taunts.

*Witch*. The voice dares to whisper.

*Shut up!* I shoot back.

"Dupreeee," My voice goes saccharine-sweet, the way it does when I talk to someone I seriously hate. I get up before turning to look into Mina's twin-brother's eyes. Marron Dupree, unfortunately for all woman-kind, is drop-dead gorgeous. WHY? The only saving-grace are the creepy copper eyes he has. The color could be described as rust...or maybe the washed-out blood of virgins? They're what I focus on when I have to look at him. They remind me of what he is. A duche.

- - -

***Of Mist and Ashes***

"Ari, please-" I whirl around, the sound of my nickname in his mouth sends delicious shivers through out my body.

"Don't call me that." I snap at him. His crimson eyes warm a degree or two as they lock onto mine. His scent envelops me like a warm summer day, ashes and fire with just the barest hint of vanilla. "And *don't* touch me." I add, smacking away his hands yet again.

"That's going to be a little difficult, don't you think?" He narrows his eyes at me, jaw working as he shoves his hand into his pockets. "Considering we're mates."

"Just because we're mates doesn't mean I have to like it. Or you, for that matter." I growl, taking a step closer to him without meaning to.

"Pretty sure that's not how it works." His expression softens a little, and I feel him in the back of my mind, melting the wall of ice I keep trying to resurrect between us. I can't deny the bond between us any more than I could deny the beating of my heart. For *Draki*, unlike with other shifters, mates aren't a selection. They're set in stone. Forged in iron. If there's such a thing as a silver lining to all this, it's that Leon won't be my only mate. Already, I can feel the awakening bonds in the deepest recess of my mind. At least two others. "That's a little harsh, don't you think?" Leon grits out, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"Stay out of my head." I shoot back, but the words come out more like a groan than an order.

"Ari, be realistic-" He breathes my name like a prayer.

"I said don't call me that!" I all but shout at him. I block out all the tantalizing images my name conjures in my head. Images of other ways he can say it, breathe it, fucking *caress* it with that tongue- *Or maybe he's the one putting them there?*

"I'm not *putting* anything in your head-" He's getting angry now, too, the color slowly rising from the collar of his black robes and painting his tan skin in the cutest rosy hue-

"For fuck's sake!" I throw my hands up and fight the urge to cover my face. "Is nothing secret anymore?" It's more of a self-directed question, but Leon's apparently having issues with boundaries.

"We're going to have to make this work, Ariadne." He catches my wrists, holding them firmly yet gently. The first thing I notice is they're warm, he's warm. A furnace of continuous heat. Dry and rough, too, but not like sand paper. It's more even. Tough- "Hey," I blink up at him, though being this close means I almost have to look straight up to meet his eyes. "If you're done describing me in your internal monolog-"

"I wasn't-!" I begin indignantly, a blush rising to my cheeks.

"-Then there's some stuff we need to discuss." He ignores my blabbering as he continues.

- - -

***Revenant***

"Mom, Dad, I'm back!" I call out, shutting the door behind me. The wonderful smells of roast beef fill the air. I smile at the familiar sounds of Frank Sinatra wafting in from the dining room. Mom loves Sinatra and Dad always indulges her after he wins a case. "Good news, I hope!" I try to make my voice loud enough to cut through the warm symphony of Sinatra's *The Way You Look Tonight*.

I set my duffle down in the living room and pick up the stack of mail on the coffee table. Colton U sent my bill already, it's the first letter on the stack, the thick one that will detail my financial aid status and how much will be going into each portion of the bill. There should be a good amount left over for living expenses and school supplies. Maybe enough for a computer.

I keep flipping through the stack, pulling out the bill and a few coupon offers for local bookstores, etcetera. Junk mail, but I like to keep them just in case.

"Mama," I call again, still shuffling through the mail before Sinatra's smooth voice comes back on. She must have it on repeat, not that she ever plays anything else but him on that iPod I got her last Christmas.

"*Some day, when I'm awfully low - When the world is cold-*"

I step on something warm, slippery, and my whole balance is thrown off. I let out a low curse as I go down. The mail flies from my hand and my ass hits the ground.

"A'ma," I look around for my parents, wondering what could have happened to get Mom to allow the ground to be slippery- until I look at what I slipped on. My stomach flips. Bright red is smeared all over the floor, pooling out from under the dinning room table. A pale, bare foot is just visible underneath. "M-mom?"

Food is thrown all over the room, ceramic dishes lay in shatters all over the place. The chairs are on their sides, simple wood, but smeared with red - hand prints - spatter. Something from above drips onto my face. I move to wipe it away and freeze as I look up at the marble counter top of the island in the center of the kitchen. I think I'm going to be sick.

"A'pa?" His eyes are wide, terrified, glazed over. Mouth agape, blood covering his entire chest and throat - and, oh God, his throat- I scream. The image seared into my retinas, but for some reason, I go to cover my eyes. Ripped open, bones and sinew and blood vessels all hanging out like some psycho went at it with a knife.

Somehow, I manage to get to my feet and am running to the back door. I need to get help. I need to find a way to help them. They can't be dead- Only...my way to the back is blocked by the fridge. The thing is clearly not supposed to be there. The shelves have been ripped out, and even this cold metal box hasn't been spared by the bloodbath. I turn back around and see the only exit, the way I came in, has also been barred.

The stove is in the middle of the hall - leaving no clear way out. It wasn't like that before. How did I not notice?

Goose flesh raising all along my arms, down the back of my neck and prickling the hair on my scalp. Whatever did this to my parents is still here.