Amara Telgemeier Novels & Stories

Back at Amara’s apartment… Time moved slowly. Painfully slowly. Amara tried to distract herself. She rearranged the room. Folded clothes that didn’t need folding. Opened a book she didn’t read. Turned on the TV she didn’t watch. Nothing worked. Her mind kept circling back. Alexander. Isabella. The conversation. The truth. And the one thing she still hadn’t said. Her phone buzzed again. The sound felt louder than usual. She turned slowly. Her heart already knowing who it was.

Amara shook off her disappointment and started getting some work done. A couple hours had passed and Amara and Leslie had laid out some plans to move forward. Amara was working on researching the publicity aspect of her new job and everything that came with it. She needed to keep an eye on social media and any mention of Gabriel Eros or the Divine Kingdom. Amara had found some software that would help with that. She was by no means a technical wiz but she was a master googler when she needed to be.

With a shake of her head, she placed the weird looking sex toy back into the box and closed it, deciding that she’d question Melanie about the weird package at a later date, but for now, she needed to prepare a draft for the project. After carefully dropping the package on her center table, Amara headed for the shower. After washing up, she put on a night dress, made herself a cup of warm chocolate, and settled on her working desk, pulling up the draft and beginning the work. It took a couple of hours for her to finish the draft, but by the time she had done so, she was satisfied with the result and felt like taking a rest. It was close to 10 pm, and she was tired, but the moment she was abo

Grace Amira was a goddess of miracles and pettiness. Not only had she gotten a stamp with my petty signature made, but she had set up a workflow between the transfer system and the pack’s messaging system to tell everyone who was transferring that they had a week to get out or they would be escorted forcibly, and two weeks after that to get their addresses and things changed. She even had farewell postcards and information packets in the transfer packets to be delivered to the individuals leaving. How she managed to get them all printed, stamped with my signature, signed, and delivered before the end of the week, I had no idea, but I loved the enthusiasm.

Faces blank with shock. “STOP FUCKING RECORDING!” Glenda screamed, trying and failing to cover herself. Phones were everywhere. Flashing. Zooming. People laughed. Mocked. Filmed. Before I could blink, Amara stepped forward. “You know what?” her voice cut through the noise. “Is this the first time you’ve seen underwear?” Silence dropped. Like the air itself froze. She helping out the people who bullied her, surprising to others not me. “Get over it,” she continued calmly. “Stop acting like children.”

Thrones Built on Bones The plane hummed as it sliced through the clouds, leaving Geneva behind like a scar across the sky. Amara sat near the window, her hair wet from a shower that hadn’t washed away the weight of Rafael’s touch or the sound of his last breath. The mountains below were jagged, cold, and still — everything she had once been, before Luca Moretti. Now,she was something else. A queen without apology. And queens didn’t cry over men who tried to kill them.

~ Gideon ~ The heavy oak door of my office clicked shut, cutting off the low hum of the executives whispering in the hallway. The silence should have felt like control. Instead, it felt like a vacuum. Amara stood in the center of the room, I had ran after her when she tried to leave. I wanted speak to her, to reason with her. Alone. Her silhouette sharp against the floor-to-ceiling windows of Helix Tower. She wasn't wearing the soft yellows or muted creams my mother usually picked for her. She wore a tailored charcoal suit that made her look like the steel and glass city behind her.

The door was open and her sister was engrossed at her canvas, replicating the picture of a lavender garden in sunset. “Nice work. Lemuel is taking me out.” “Thanks. Great. Have fun.” Amara said without turning. She was always concentrated when she worked. “Thanks.” Inara said and paused as her phone buzzed again with Lemuel’s call. She picked it up and brought it up to her ear. “Hello.” “What are you wearing?” “Jeans and tee-shirt.” “I want you in a dress. Two minutes.”

“You’ll get them. But not if you collapse.” Amara exhaled and rubbed her temples. “I’m exhausted. But I won’t stop.” Dominic studied her with an intensity that always felt like he was seeing more than she wanted anyone to see. “May I ask you something?” he said. She nodded. “When you saw Elara… what did it feel like?” Amara’s eyes softened. Her voice thickened. “Like breathing after being underwater too long. Like recognizing a melody I hadn’t heard in years. Like… coming home.”

“A common name, you might say.” “No, it’s beautiful. I mean it...” “How about you? What’s your name?” asked Grace curiously. She let out a long sigh. “I think I want to change my name. I’ll tell you when I have a new one.” Grace chuckled with her statement. “Then I want to know your real name before you change it into a new one,” she said, her voice was playful yet pleasant. Amara was a bit hesitant to give her name. It was a name of a lone werewolf, a child whose blood was cursed by the Moon Goddess, a daughter who suffered all her life and ended up as a runaway who hides in the human territory.