William (The Valentines) - By Sam Crescent Page 0,11

So much information had passed between the cell mates.

Who had the woman been, the one in the room with James? Why had she sounded so familiar?

Katie rubbed her chest. Her heart ached. Not long left for her…it didn’t take a genius to work out what the statement meant.

Tears welled in her eyes. She was going to die.

She didn’t want to die.

From the crushing of her spirit within this hell hole, she’d forgotten everything but the pleasure of being with William.

Her strong, bad vampire. The first man to kiss her, to make her pulse race and her body singe with heat. When she’d been with William, she’d felt, for the first time, the stirring of desire. William had awoken her mind and body and she wanted more. Katie had hoped to lose her virginity before she died. It could have been her gift to William. She would give anything to still be in his company, even with his bad attitude. If she was outside with him then she wouldn’t be in here.

She sniffed as tears fell in great waves, the thought unbearable.

The irony was that a few weeks ago she would have given anything to be with her parents, to leave behind the chaos of life.

But since meeting William she had felt not different but special. She wanted to live, and the realisation brought with it a new wave of knowledge and despair.

Katie wasn’t ready to die.

Chapter Three

William slammed the door as he entered his house, the sound echoing off the blank walls. The sun was up and the search was off. He went straight to the kitchen where he kept his fine whisky—the strongest kind. He wanted to lose what little sanity he had left.

He twisted the cap off a fresh bottle and gulped half of the contents in one go. The strong liquor helped to ease the pain, or at least to numb it for a short time. His face throbbed from Don smashing it in.

William walked towards the carpet where Katie had collapsed after he had taken her blood. He could still smell the innocent aroma of her. He touched that spot, hoping against hope to feel her.

Was she still alive? Or was he deluding himself by refusing to believe that she was already dead?

What did James have planned for her? The potential list was huge. The only witch at the beginning of a war, she would be a vital asset. One James would use without a care for helping her to keep her magic balanced.

Questions filled and consumed his every waking thought. She was a new witch, unstable. Surely she wasn’t worth killing?

Running a hand over his face to try and clear his jumbled thoughts, he sat down at the side of the room. His eyes never left that space where, a few weeks ago, she’d come to life within his arms. He drank gulp after gulp of the potent whisky, until nothing was left in the bottle. He didn’t get up for more. He allowed the liquid to do its work. He refused to blink, tears running down his cheeks as the bitter loneliness broke through him. He kept his eyes on that spot. Like a child, he wondered whether, if he prayed enough, she would respond and appear. The middle of his living room floor remained empty and his heart broke a fraction more at the wasted effort and energy.

After a while, his gaze began to drift. He fought sleep. He tried to force his eyes open, slapped his own face, but nothing could stop the weight as he drifted off into a blissful sleep.

William opened his eyes. He gasped at the marvellous beauty of the meadow. He’d not come to this place in such a long time. William usually made sure the liquor drowned him enough that he wouldn’t have to wander through this world alone. His subconscious world—beautiful, peaceful, built for him to walk around with his bonded mate as they slept.

Since the death of his beloved, Emma, his place had been corrupted by her death. A darkness had seeped into his soul and turned everything he knew to hell. With Katie, everything was different. His paradise was different now. He couldn’t recall the lake, or the deer running across the field. The air smelt fresh, no waves of pollution.

Magical.

Mystical.

William felt the pull of the lake and he strode over to the calm, serene expanse of blue—the clearest blue he’d ever seen.

He knelt down to touch it, a single finger marking the placid