Imogen Peele Novels & Stories

The person behind all this. Imogen. My sister.

“Jaxon coming to a play sounds like a threat to national security. That goofball hates anything that's not hockey. “He loves you,” she said, sticking out her tongue. “And me. Sort of. I think. Anyway, he said he’s proud of you. For the script thing. You better not let him down.” “I’ll try not to.” God, it felt good to see her again. She looked different—shorter hair, platinum blonde with lavender ends, piercings on both brows and one nostril—but she was still Imogen. Still the only person in the world who’d seen me cry during Call Me By Your Name and not judged me for it. She’d been texting me nonstop about this trip, and honestly, she was one of the reasons I said yes. I needed something to

"Hear that? Imogen doesn't want me sharing air with lowly peasants like you." He strutted away after an employee, his leather shoes clicking smugly against the floor. I stared at his retreating figure, my phone lighting up with a new message. Imogen: [Honey, why aren't you replying? Should I just go ahead and book the restaurant?] Me: [What exactly are you doing right now?] A photo popped up, showing her sitting at a conference table, exhaustion etched across her features. Imogen: [Stuck in meetings all day. Haven't even had a sip of water.]

Nerina’s eyes burned with suppressed anger, her hand tightening on her mother’s arm—she knew, with bitter certainty, that this spectacle revolved around Imogen, the ghost who refused to stay buried. The Deltas obeyed instantly, swords sheathed as they yanked open the carriage doors. Inside, laid out on velvet cushions, was Imogen’s body preserved with eerie care—beautiful even in death. She was dressed in finest Dravonia silk, face powdered to porcelain perfection and arranged with care, her silver hair braided with white roses, more flowers scattered around her like an offering. The scent of lilies and jasmine drifted out, cloying in the cold air.

I secretly swallowed because of the view. They were still shouting. I breathed deeply before starting to shake my body. "Shit! We missed you, Magda!!!" "You're mine now! I'll pay a lot!" "My f*cking hormones, sh*t! Shake it off Magda!" I could see in their eyes the admiration for my inherent beauty and charm. I felt like I'm a famous television actress that everyone is obsessed with, like pizza that will never be rejected when laid on the table, like wine and beers that can almost replace the water if swallowed, like a bad drug that when once you use, you will never stop using it and like a potion that once you have been subjected under its magic, you will never be able to escape anymore.

Bella “ Holy sizzles “ gasped Selina “ you look so beautiful “ “ I know right “ said Adriana as she swiped her fake tears with her forefinger “ this is my master piece ,simply flaw-fucking -less amazing “To add to the effect she even sniffed” are you ready ?”

He pulled her arm a little too forceful and led her to the center of the circle. And there at the center was a single-armed wooden sofa accentuated by the moonlight. A woman, probably their Queen, was lying on it. The moonlight shall be enough as your guide. Feucher’s words echoed inside her head. Yes, the moonlight really did become her guide. She stepped closer and did a curtsey, as she thought people of this world normally do. The pixie Queen looked silently beautiful even though she appeared pale and weak. Her hair, which was commonly gold with her constituents, was colored silver. Her glow was very faint and sporadically glinting unlike the stable radiance of the others.

"If you keep stalling, I'll go and get my daughter myself." "She isn't yours. My daughter is my husband's not yours." Rebecca said, a little confident. "And you want me to believe that?" George slung her off. "Which daughter are you talking about? Is there another child asides the Lady?" Tracey inquired, eager to know what was going on. "My daughter will never be as addressed a lady. She is the princess and the heir to the throne." George said proudly. "You'll be better off without that little girl in your life. She can't be your successor. I will accept any other child but not the one that was born by that woman." Fiona scoffed.

The pack had bought out the house for the evening, so every single member of that audience was here because they were supporting their luna. Because tonight, she would dance the role of The Sugar Plum Fairy. “Thank you again,” I muttered, turning to look at Imogen. She rubbed at a spot on her red painted fingernails, a wrinkle between her brows. “I told you already, I needed the break. Some time to breathe and kick my feet up and just remind myself that I’m not just good at ballet, I actually enjoy ballet.” Her eyes lifted to mine, and she smiled. “Plus, it was for a good cause,” she said. “Oh, the baby is here!”

I asked her, and she looked at the water and looked at me. "You won't gain the magic of the Valkin," she said, and I was in shock. "Your mate has no wolf. You can only gain the magic when her wolf comes. She is just as good as a chosen for now," she said, and I was shocked. I looked at Maxwell and Clay, and the shock registered on their faces too. "Will she ever gain her wolf?" I asked, and she looked at me. "What is her name?" Elsa asked. "Scarlett Vladislav," Clay responded, and she looked at us.