Novels by Ama Feathers

Amid the leftover confusion and Elara’s lingering internal panic, they somehow ended up seated together at a café just off campus.How this happened, Elara couldn’t have said.One minute she was mentally replaying the coffee incident for the fiftieth time, the next she was sliding into a chair with Sally beside her, a polished table in front of them, and far too many important people within arm’s reach.Sally sat across from her, eyes dancing with mischief as she shot Elara a look.Elara ignored it with the dedication of someone who would rather chew glass.Luna Nora was already skimming through a stack of documents, flipping pages. She looked utterly unbothered, like chaos was simply background noise she’d learned to tune out.Andrea, on the other hand, had already flagged down a waiter.“Four coffees” she said without hesitation. “And whatever pastries you recommend. Two plates.”The waiter blinked. “Uh... what kind—”“Surprise us.”He nodded weakly but went away anyway.Elara and S

Elara was ninety percent arms at this point.Arms balancing folders. Arms hugging her laptop to her chest. One hand clutching a half-empty coffee she absolutely did not need but had bought out of stress anyway. Her bag was slipping off one shoulder, her wallet was wedged awkwardly between her elbow and ribs, and her brain felt like it had been wrung out and hung to dry.The presentation was over. Thank God.It had been a mess. Not a disaster—just… a mess. Slides slightly out of order, her voice wobbling at the start, one moment where she blanked entirely and stared at the screen like it had personally betrayed her. But she’d survived. The professor nodded. People clapped. Sally gave her a dramatic thumbs-up from the back row.Which was why Sally was now walking behind her, laughing far too loudly in the hallway.“I’m just saying,” Sally said, barely holding it together, “if the prof hadn’t stopped you when he did, that sentence would’ve gone somewhere very inappropriate.”Elara snorte

Kaelen’s laugh faded into the quiet like it wasn’t supposed to exist.While he smiled, Elara stayed frozen for a second too long, chopsticks hovering midair, chest tight. It wasn’t the sound itself—it was what it did to the space between them. Made it smaller. Made it warmer. Made her painfully aware that his mouth was… close.Too close.She noticed it all at once: the way his knee was angled toward hers, the way his arm rested along the back of the sofa like it had always belonged there, the way she could feel his breath when he exhaled slowly through his nose.Her own breath hitched.Nope. Absolutely not.She scooted her hips an inch away. Then another. Subtle. Controlled. Like she wasn’t internally screaming.Without a word, she leaned forward and carefully slid the noodle bowl back toward him. No dramatics this time. No tug-of-war. Just a quiet, deliberate pass, as if acknowledging something fragile between them and choosing not to poke it.He looked at the bowl. Then at her.Some

Elara stood in the middle of the kitchen, staring down at herself like she had just woken up in someone else’s body. A dress. Shoes. Her hair done. In the middle of the freaking night!What was wrong with her?She pressed her lips together, resisting the urge to tap—no, slam—her forehead against the cabinet beside her. Of all the things she could’ve thrown on, she’d chosen a dress. She’d even blended her lip balm like an idiot who expected company.What was worse was that he was staring at her now. First surprised, now pleased with himself.The moment he let her go, she made a small strangled sound of a whale dying, turned around, and sprinted back to her room like the kitchen had caught fire. She had really just run to her room to wear her undergarments, but when she returned, she had put on her glasses and a too-big hoodie over the dress. Somehow this made things worse—like she’d tried to dress up and then tried harder not to.There was nothing more she wanted to do than take o

Elara didn’t see him for a week.The first few days, she barely left the suite. She paced, binge-watched everything she could find, vented into pillows, then painstakingly put them back before the housekeeper came. She cried until her eyes were raw, laughed until her stomach ached at stupid videos from her childhood. She stayed in like she was in house arrest.By the third day, guilt over missed university lectures won over her fear. She stepped out, expecting him to be waiting in some corner, ready to jump her—but he wasn’t.Not once. Not a shadow, not a glance. His warning had made it seem he was going to keep her locked up forever.The thought shocked her. Even if he had tried to lock her up, why was she staying there obediently when she had the key?On the fourth day, feeling a little daring, she left after ten, lighter in step but cautious. That’s when the receptionist called her."Ms. Vey." She asked carefully, "Your roommate is asking why you are not back yet."Elara came bac

Sitting on the huge table by the floor-to-ceiling windows, with the city glittering beneath them like a pile of scattered diamonds, Elara wondered how she had gotten here.The steak on his plate bled softly under the knife, each cut precise and practiced. The food in front of her—dishes she couldn’t even pronounce—sat untouched.Elara’s gaze flicked between the plates and the man eating so calmly, as if this strange dinner were the most natural part of his life.She swallowed. “What… can I help you with?”Kaelen finally lifted his eyes to her, raising his glass. “Is the food not to your liking, Miss Vey?”“No… the food is fine.” Her voice steadied, even as his cold eyes dropped to her untouched plate. “I’m more interested in why I’m at this table.”He swirled his drink slowly, staring at her. Then he took a measured sip… and smiled.No—he sneered.“To eat. You’re here to eat.”A chill snaked down her spine.She stood abruptly, grabbing her bag. “Then I’ll excuse myself for the evening