Blonde Streaks Novels & Stories

"I'm thinking we need to go bolder. Let's do purple streaks this time." I wrap the cape around her neck and snap it in place. "I don't think that's such a good idea, Sue. Remember what happened when you decided to do blue streaks? You were calling me the next day to get what you called 'that damn Easter egg color' out of your hair." "I don't know," she says as she looks in the mirror, fluffing out her hair. "I don't think I took enough time to get used to it. I think I jumped the gun on that."

I look at Sloane, then back at Luna Samara again and that’s when it clicks. My mate now has a white streak in her hair. It’s the same streak that Luna Samara has in hers. My mate got her white wolf.

That somehow, I ended up being of a fair complexion than her and dad? I mean, it’s just like my blue eyes and this blonde streak that make up the left side of my bangs. They are a genetic abnormality. Recessive genes managed to win. It isn’t like I can control it. I sighed, digging into my desk and taking out the roll of bandage.

All I could see were the usual deep blue irises with their new silver flecks. “Edwin,” I called, my voice trembling, “will werewolves hate me for my silver eyes, just like they do for my hair?” I turned to find him standing in the doorway, confusion etched into his face. “Your hair?” he asked, tilting his head. Swallowing hard, I realized I had never told him about my silver streak. It was always dyed, hidden away from the world. From him. “I... I have a silver streak,” I admitted, pulling back the hair just behind my ear to reveal the roots that were just barely starting to show through. “Right here. I keep it dyed to match the rest of my hair, but…”

Just as I was about to say something sarcastic in response, she suddenly sucked in a sharp breath and her eyes widened. My brows furrowed in concern. “What's wrong?” “Your hair,” she whispered in disbelief. Self-consciously, I ran my fingers through the silken strands. “What's wrong with my hair?” She drew closer to me and her hand reached out to touch my hair. “There are silver strands that weren't there before.” I breathed a sigh of relief. My thought was that something bad had happened to damage the way it looked forever. “It's nothing. My wolf has these same silver streaks. How come you didn't notice during the fight?”

They worked in silence, the only sound the gentle rustling of hair against fabric and the occasional splash of water. Once her hair was thoroughly detangled, the maids began the delicate process of fixing it. They wove the strands together, creating an intricate ombre effect that blended seamlessly from dark ebony at the roots to a soft, silvery white at the tips. The final touch was a loose braid that hung down her back, its ends tied with a simple ribbon. The effect was stunning—her hair seemed to shimmer with its own inner light, complementing her pale skin and accentuating the sharp angles of her face.

I stared at my reflection, watching as my once-long locks transformed into a sleek, shoulder-length bob. Next, dipping the brush into the vibrant pink dye, I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement wash over me. I carefully painted the dye onto the tips of my hair, watching as the pigment spread evenly across each strand. As I worked, I felt myself transported back to my childhood days, when playing dress-up and trying out different hairstyles was a daily occurrence. This feeling only intensified as I examined my reflection in the mirror, admiring how the pink gradients seemed to dance along the edges of my blonde hair.

Candy didn’t know why this happened, but having erect nipples seemed to be her normal condition. After showering and washing her hair, she towel-dried it and then followed with the electric dryer. Her hair was brown, but it had the usual collection of sun streaks through it. The streaks were in every color from brown through gold, and almost to platinum. Since she wore her hair in an urchin cut, the overall effect was breathtaking. Unfortunately, the whole effect was lost because of her misshapen mouth. Beyond that, though, had her teeth and jaw been normal, Candy would still have dismissed her physical appearance out of hand.

Katrina winked, running a hand over her curls before throwing up the doors to her walk-in closet. “Where do you get your hair dyed? I always wanted to get streaks in my hair. Or just outright dye it to not be a blonde.” Persephone asked as we watched Katrina start pulling clothes off hangers. “Who I don’t. This is natural. LIke how André has that blue streak. I have red. No clue why. We just do. André says it’s because we are too fabulous to have normal hair. I think it's more to do with being hybrids or half-breeds as some rudely call us.” she huffed, putting some outfits onto the bench at the end of her bed.

I grab a piece of bread, but before I can take a bite, Priscilla’s gaze sharpens, fixating on my hair. “Hold still,” she murmurs, stepping closer. Before I can react, she gently plucks a strand from my head and holds it up. “What?” I ask, confused. She twirls the strand between her fingers, her brows furrowing. “You’ve got a white streak coming in.” I freeze. “What?” She holds it out for me to see. It’s unmistakable—a stark silver strand mixed among my blonde locks. "There's more...it's concentrated in the areas above your left ear."