by Sam Crescent
A Total-E-Bound Publication
www.total-e-bound.com
Adam
ISBN # 978-1-78184-380-2
©Copyright Sam Crescent 2013
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright June 2013
Edited by Stacey Birkel
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2013 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 2.
This story contains 105 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 6 pages.
The Valentines
ADAM
Sam Crescent
Book three in the Valentines series
To figure out the present, they need to go back to the past.
They need to learn the truth before the wolves attack again.
Poppy is the only remaining necromancer in the world. She is the one in control of the dead and she has been sent to the Valentines. There is an evil force at work and she must help Adam Valentine to uncover it before it’s too late.
Adam is intrigued by the young necromancer. Her scars do not affect him. He sees the strength inside her and he likes it. All he wants to do is protect her and claim her as his own.
They are on a mission to find out who the real alpha of the Beyer West pack is. But Poppy’s world is about to turn on itself as she needs to make a choice. There is no room for love in the life of a necromancer, yet, after centuries of being alone, Adam has filled her life with meaning.
People will die and secrets will be revealed as the balance that protects them is broken. Can their love survive as the world is about to be sent into chaos? This is no longer about the wolves but something much bigger that neither of them can fight.
Dedication
I would like to thank my editor, Stacey. You’ve been amazingly patient with me and I appreciate everything you do to help me become a better writer.
Prologue
“She’s been chosen. We don’t have a choice.” The man’s booming voice scared the woman at his side.
“Poppy is too young. What you wish for is unfair to her. We must answer our calling after adulthood, not during our youth,” the woman finally found the courage to argue back. Never before would she have considered doing something so outrageous.
“All of us didn’t have to deal with our extinction. The decision has been made and Poppy has been chosen. Live with it.”
“It is unfair. Poppy will be forever immortalised in a young woman’s body. She won’t be able to change. Her emotions will be fuelled by her age. Please, I beg you to hold off on this transition.” The woman spoke with desperation.
“No, we go through with this now.”
“You will sacrifice our daughter this easily?”
“It’s for the good of our kind and the future of our species.”
“This is madness.”
The man dropped his head and stared down amongst the few remaining full-blooded necromancers. For centuries, their kind had been slain. Their numbers lessened with every passing year. Their power weakened with every generation born. Breeding with humans and other creatures of the paranormal world had left them unstable and their immortality void.
“Poppy is the only female who can carry on.” He sounded convinced and so sure of his path, no way could he see failure in his plan to force on the transition of a necromancer.
“She deserves more than this. What you ask for is a lifetime of pain and misery. She hasn’t even been with a man. I know you don’t wish to hear these things, but she deserves to be given the chance to love.”
“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
With his final words ringing in the air, the man and woman went in search of their daughter.
Poppy lay in a heap on the floor surrounded by human children. Her blue eyes sparkled while her pale skin held the subtle glow of happiness, which few of their number enjoyed. Necromancers were not well known for their good moods.
The laughter died on her lips as soon as she saw her parents.
“Mother. Father. Welcome.” Poppy bowed her head and the shivers began in her body. She knew in her heart trouble was coming.
“Follow me,” her father ordered. In their world no one argued with an elder. If you argued, it would be seen as a sign of disrespect. There would be severe punishment for anyone who dared to do so. Nodding her consent, she turned to the nurse—an elder necromancer and a kind woman—and waved goodbye before leaving the children.
She walked the short distance—her black gown flowing round her ankles with each step—following behind her parents. The long sleeves did nothing to stop the chill seeping into her bones. Her mother smiled at her one final time before she entered the room. A cold slab of stone lay in the centre of the large room. The stone was surrounded by twelve men, each covered in a thick black robe.
Poppy couldn’t stop the rapid beating of her heart even as she stopped behind her father. She was a small female. Poppy didn’t even reach his shoulders.
“It is time, Rory. We must end this before the cycle is complete.” Poppy gazed down to see her mother holding her hand. The strength in the touch did nothing to calm her nerves.
“What is happening, Mother?” she asked.
“Silence!” A raging sound filled the air. “The time to act is now.” Voices filled her head. Each voice hissing through her mind, words of fear and rage. All of their emotions were bombarding her at once. “It is time,” whispered across her temple.
Poppy knew what the words meant, but she glanced up at her father, seeking something more. She was too young and untrained. She couldn’t possibly be ready for such responsibility.
“What is to become of me?”
“You must answer this call.”
“But I haven’t lived. I’m only eighteen. I’m not old enough for this calling.” She backed off, frightened by what was about to happen. Their laws stated that only a true necromancer could take on the main role. A necromancer should have lived and understood what life was like. They should be able to appreciate what the dead must be missing and do what must be done.
She hadn’t experienced enough in her short time to even consider being a good necromancer.
The man she called Father looked past her shoulder to the men guarding the door. “Lock the gates. Do not let anyone come in, no matter what you hear.” Her father turned back to her. “Remove your robes and get up on the table.”
“Disrobing is not necessary, Rory. She can keep them on at all times,” one of the men took pity and defended her.
“But the ceremony—”
“As long as she performs her part, the robes may stay on.”
Poppy clutched at her clothing, the only robes she’d been allowed in some time. The black dress wa
s not part of their custom until the female had relinquished her virginity. Poppy knew hers was very much intact, but with the hunting of her kind, most of their traditions had ceased. She loved her black robe—the only possession she owned in her world.
“Please. Don’t make me do this,” she pleaded. Her short life began flashing before her eyes. She knew the moment she got up on that table, her life would be over.
When no one dared look at her, Poppy knew there was no use trying to fight her fate. She had to answer the call of the elders. Tears poured down her cheeks but she walked to the cold stone table and held out her hands to be helped onto the surface. The large circular ceremony slab had the shape of a body in the centre. She placed her head and aligned her arms and legs spread out. Each part of her fitted into the design perfectly as if it had been made for her.
Her life had been a curse from the start. She would never know what it meant to laugh in the sunset or hold hands with the man she loved. Never would she know what it meant to be married and have children. That life was reserved for the lucky ones. She wasn’t lucky but cursed to forever live in the cruelty of other men’s greed. War was merely an excuse to wipe each species off the list. Demons, trolls, spirits and necromancers were next in line for extinction.
Poppy closed her eyes as she saw the silver-bladed knife. The knife was old and the only means to kill or seriously wound a pure-blooded necromancer.
One of her wrists was grabbed and she gasped as the blade sliced up the flesh. Poppy imagined the red blood soaking where it lay in its resting place. She heard him move and the same was done to her other wrist and then to both her ankles. Her blood—her life force—dripped out of her. The cruelty of the act was not lost on her. Soon, the outline of her body would be swamped with blood. The ceremony demanded she didn’t move or make a sound.
“We give ourselves to Poppy.”
She didn’t want to see what was about to happen. Instead, she opened her eyes and stared up at the exposed sky above her that the ceiling of the room allowed for. Nights as clear as this one were the ones during which the council made their decisions and when sacrifices had to be made.
The glowing stars called to her. The muscles in her body felt heavy and her eyelids drooped.
“Life upon life, she will be given immortality, strength and the guidance of herself within this life and the next. Poppy will be true and answer to the call of the dead, the living and all things in between.”
Each of the twelve council members gave their blood, their life force, dripping the precious droplets onto her resting place. Her robe was opened where it covered her breasts, Poppy didn’t struggle as she was too weak.
A whimper escaped her as the blade crossed over her chest, three one way and three the other, each line criss-crossing the other. Pain radiated out but the energy inside her was contained as the blood dripped out of her.
Poppy stared at the stars, each precious ball of light disappearing, her vision lessening. It got hard to breathe and hard to fight.
“I join you with your other half.” All the words drained away as the blade was raised then pierced through her heart, slicing down and splitting it in two.
Poppy arched up, her body fighting the rushed transition and pain.
“No more,” she begged.
Words were chanted all around her. The knife remained in her chest. Poppy felt the wound, her heart sliced in half, her vision swimming. She saw darkness of night and the grey of the world that lay between. Nothing was light or dark—just an endless sea of grey.
People stood staring at her, from the world of the living and the world of the dead. All of them were waiting while she moved fast, looking for something that no one but she could see. Some of the forms reached out and touched while others gazed at her in wonder. Time was quickly running out as the two worlds began to merge.
“Find her, Poppy…” She heard her mother’s voice whisper across her temple. Panic rose inside her…then she saw her. A beautiful, pure innocent stood off to the centre. The woman held her heart, one half in each hand. The blood was spilling from her fingers. The moment their eyes met, an explosion of light consumed the two women. Poppy felt the presence of the other woman like a second skin. She saw the same emotions happening to the other. Light spilled out of Poppy’s chest, the blood surrounding her sucking up into her skin.
Poppy saw the world for what it was—a cold, desolate place that would only get worse, but through the mass of sadness and despair, she saw hope. And hope was what she needed to hold onto.
Chapter One
“Poppy, wake up.” Someone was touching her arm. No one ever touched her skin. Most beings were repulsed by what she was. Each wound was a testament to the battles she’d fought and won over the centuries.
“Poppy. It’s a bad dream.”
She batted away the irritation that refused to let her sleep. She cried out in shock as firm lips pressed against hers. No one had kissed her before. The contact shocked her more than the touch of the hand on her naked flesh.
Screaming, Poppy lashed out, sending Adam Valentine flying through the air and landing on top of the wardrobe in the room she slept in at the Valentines’ mansion. The wardrobe broke apart where Adam landed.
The man who’d been trying to wake her up groaned and pulled out of his side a chunk of wood that had managed to embed itself just below the ribs.
Poppy winced.
She cursed her own stupidity. Usually when she slept, she kept the door locked and surrounded by charms to keep the dead out. A true necromancer struggled to sleep at the best of times. Ghosts and damaged souls were everywhere the naked eye couldn’t see, but she saw them.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She wrapped her cloak, which must have opened during her sleep, back around her. Poppy hated more than anything for Adam to see her scars. He was the first male she had ever desired.
Her scars were gruesome and she did everything in her power to keep them covered when she was around him.
“Shit, Poppy. You were screaming in your fucking sleep.” Blood seeped out of the wound. She saw it was already healing. The magical power of the vampire was a wonderful thing to witness.
“Well, you shouldn’t interrupt a person when they’re asleep.” Her lips were still wet from his small kiss. She wanted to lick her lips to see if she’d taste him on her tongue.
Her heart mourned the loss of connection. The first kiss she’d experienced from a man she liked, and she’d gone and thrown him across the room. At this rate she would never know the true intimate touch of a man. When Adam was around, she found herself longing to know what it would feel like to have him touch her. Intimately touch her. Would his touch be gentle or rough?
“I banged on the door. It wouldn’t open at first and then it was like it opened by itself.”
She watched as he rubbed his head, clearly trying to focus. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah? Why are you wearing the cloak?”
Poppy held the fabric between her fingers. The cloak provided her with protection from the stares of others and made her feel secure. “It’s my cloak.”
“Is this about the scars again? It’s a fucking ugly cloak. Couldn’t you get one in a lighter colour?”
She tensed. Her scars may not repulse Adam, but he hadn’t seen all of them yet. The cloak was the last thing she held from the time with her family. With how old she was, it would probably be deemed either vintage or scrap material.
“What did you want me for?”
He shook his head and turned towards the mirror. All he would be able to see was a black blur of a reflection. Whenever she entered a room, she made sure the mirrors couldn’t show her true image. She found it freaky when the girl from the other side could be seen staring back at her.
“Did you have a bad dream?” he asked.
She liked the sound of his concern too much. “What did you want me for?”
Adam sighed, moving closer to her. “Poppy, you’re an enigma. You show up a
ll big and powerful, and you don’t share your secrets well.”
His hands rested on her shoulders and it took Poppy a lot of willpower not to react. She struggled between the desire to push him away and the desire to move his hands to cup her breasts. The conflicting emotions inside her were starting to wear her down.
“Just tell me what you want?”
He sighed, let her go and walked towards the door.
“They’re meeting in the study again. I swear I’m starting to live in that fucking room. Join us when you’re ready.”
Poppy nodded and watched him go. They should have left the day after the attack on Katie—over a week ago—but Robert hadn’t allowed it. Robert had decided it was too close after losing Katie and learning the true curse of the wolves. He’d ended up calling off the initial search for the original alpha of the Beyer West pack. In doing so, Poppy had taken up residence—much to the younger brother’s disgust—in the Valentines’ home.
Placing a hand to her chest, Poppy winced. She opened the cloak and the top buttons of the black dress she wore. She waved her arm across the mirror so that her true reflection appeared. Poppy turned away from the image when she first saw herself. Her primary response was revulsion at the vision before her, but she forced herself to turn and look.
The single raised scar from forehead to her chin had come from a dead nymph who had refused to believe she wouldn’t be young and sexy forever. Several small scars that had come from nails dotted her cheeks—some of the people didn’t like the fact that they were dead and would fight the transition from Earth to the realm of death. The scar on her neck had been the result of claw marks from a mightily pissed off werewolf. The ones over her heart—the vulgar criss-cross lines—were the result of her own forced transition. Closing her eyes, she opened a few more buttons of her dress until the whole top part of her breast was visible. The scar looked like a chessboard decorating the skin above her heart. The criss-cross was in the middle of a circle that outlined her heart, followed by a deeper line where they had cut her heart in two.