Amity Blight Blushing Novels & Stories

All of the voices grew louder until they were howling inside her head. She looked into the bright blue eyes that pleaded with her. Inky blackness spread from the center consuming all color and light until they were pools of darkness covering his entire eye socket. He lurched forward grabbing the barrel of the gun and forcing it against his forehead. Zira yelped and squeezed. BANG! Zira sat up screaming and flailing. Hands wrestled with hers making her flail more. A firm grasp locked on and forced her down.

Why did my heart still have to flutter and my insides turn to mush at the sight of him? Ally met us at the entrance to the park. She had to work later so drove by herself. She had on a tight, short jean skirt and heeled sandals. Her hair was again sky high and her makeup was heavy. She had a bright pink shirt on with a plunging neckline. I rolled my eyes at her apparel, mentally criticizing her outfit not practical for a day at an amusement park, but I know it truly stemmed from jealousy. I watched with an envious heart as Alaric took her hand with her long acrylic nails into his.

Maybe finishing this painting will purge her from my system. Knock, knock, knock. “Give it up, Flav.” I grab a paintbrush, pour some paint, and start working, but the knocking persists. Annoyed, I set my tools down, storm to the door, and yank it open. “I already said no, Flav—” I freeze, face-to-face with the image haunting my dreams and studio: Ami. We stare at each other, both stunned. Her face is unchanged—same nose, same beauty, the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. But there’s something different: a bump, visible only when she shifts and her loose dress moves. My heart races a million beats per second as emotions flood me. Why is she here?

Her hand rested on her stomach again. Everything felt heavier now. More dangerous. “I saw him today,” she whispered suddenly. Blue frowned. “Who?” “…Adrian.” Silence. Blue’s expression changed instantly. “And?” Ammie shook her head slowly. “He doesn’t know me,” she said. “But… it felt like…” “Like what?” Ammie hesitated. “…Like something in him does.” Blue exhaled slowly. “This is getting complicated.” “It already is,” Ammie replied. Outside—

She paused next to the dried wolfsbane before grabbing it as well. Amerie paid and thanked Blaze, then was about to walk out with an armful of bags when Blaze giggled and stopped her. “Let me help you carry things to your car. I might cry if you drop the bag with the crystals.” Amerie laughed and let Blaze take a couple of the bags. The two continued chatting about Amerie’s move out here as they walked to her car. Blaze also told Amerie that she lived in an apartment near the edge of town with her older sister. She joked about how opposite her sister was from her, yet the two were best friends. As they put the bags in the trunk of Amerie’s car, Blaze told her about the two bars in town that

Damen’s daughter’s husband said. Zahir looked behind him, finding himself surrounded by knights. Amor Blaze. I didn’t like that man. He matched Damen’s strength. Although Damen clearly held back when he was fighting against him. I tried to control him wholly, but even after dying, I could completely control Damen. But it wasn’t Amor’s strength that made me dislike him — it was his soul print — Amor Blaze’s soul print was brighter than normal souls. Much brighter, as if he was carved out of pure light with no mix of darkness at all. Such souls had no place in my dark utopia.

I snatched my cloak, a flimsy shield against their concerned gazes, but the damage was already seen. Amelia drifted closer, her presence a soft counterpoint to the harsh light. "Thalia," she whispered, her voice laced with a sorrow that felt both familiar and undeserved. Her hand started towards my neck, a fleeting thought of comfort, before she seemed to think better of it and let it fall. "That bruise… it’s ghastly. I am so sorry about Blair." A ghost of a smile, devoid of any warmth, touched my lips. "It wasn't your fault, Amelia. It was the only way to silence her." I kept the sharp, throbbing truth to myself—a constant, painful reminder of the price of peace.

"I tried to come to you in the halls to offer a truce, and you... you slapped me!" She turned her face, showing a faint, red smudge on her cheek. I leaned in close, my eyes scanning the "injury" with clinical coldness. "Nice try, Amelie," I whispered, loud enough for the surrounding tables to lean in. "But if you’re going to use makeup to pretend you were hit, at least do it right. The blending is amateur, and you used a warm-toned blush for a bruise that should be purpling." Her face went pale, the "smudge" suddenly looking like the cheap lie it was. Maxwell stepped forward, his face hardening, desperate to save her crumbling act. "Aella, enough. You’ve changed, but this? Apologize to her.

I added. A blush rose to her cheeks but she quickly looked away. "Alright alright. You don't have to go through the stress of flirting with me. I won't appreciate it, you can save it for... You know, those other girls that are smitten when you flirt with them." She giggled. "But I just saw you blush." I pointed out, my voice low and teasing. "When you say something and I blush, it doesn't mean that I am smitten by you." "I know Amelia. I know my charms don't work on you. It intrigues me. I have not met any woman who is not smitten when I look at them. Even those whose hearts belong elsewhere."

She yanked the blade out with a disgusted look and shoved him away. “Amelia!” she shouted without looking at me. “If you’re going to keep staring at me like that, at least do it while helping.” That snapped me out of it. I blasted the wounded rogue with a hit of power that sent him crashing into another attacker. Brittany glanced back at me, chest rising and falling. “Your white dress is a mess,” I stared at her. Then, because apparently even in the middle of a massacre we were still us, I shot back, “You look worse covered in blood.”