William (The Valentines) - By Sam Crescent Page 0,8

for a second to glance her way. Poppy felt her heart stop as his piercing green eyes sought out the darkened corner, scanning the area for a foe. Unable to sense anything—she wasn’t his enemy—he moved on, not even giving her the time of day.

No man gave her the time of day.

Her eyes went back to William. He was broken, she could see that, but he was hurting and she understood the pain. Why couldn’t anyone else see his raw need to find his mate? She could, and she wished she could help him, but she wasn’t here to help one Valentine. She was here to help in the fight against the wolves and the coming war.

Once William was preoccupied with looking at the moon, Poppy made her escape and followed the other man. The intriguing one. She had no clue why she was risking her life but she had learnt something, even if it had been through eavesdropping.

As he turned to look behind him she ducked behind a nearby bin.

Once he continued walking, she followed him again. He was moving faster now. She tried to keep up. She closed her eyes for a moment as her hair fell across her face. When she opened them again, he was gone. Poppy panicked—her information was important. She’d got some bloody, fresh scars from the witch who’d told her where to go. The Valentines needed her.

The air rushed out of her as she was pulled against a firm body. One hand seized her neck in a death grip while the other roamed her body at the same time as pushing her against the wall.

“Why are you following me?” her captor demanded as he moved his hand down her body. Poppy shrieked as he cupped one of her breasts.

She struggled against him even as her nipple came to attention. Now was not a great time for her hungry body to come alight. The man was ready to choke her, for crying out loud.

“What does a woman like you want from me?” he asked.

She tensed. A woman like her? He hadn’t even looked at her face yet. How dare he make assumptions? She tried to turn in his arms but he kept her still, his hand still threatening to choke the life out of her.

What an introduction.

“If you stop mauling me for a second I can tell you,” she panted. Her nipples were puckered. Her breast felt heavy where it lay in the palm of his hand.

“What if I don’t want to let you go?” he asked.

Poppy tensed again. She knew that the moment he saw her face he would no longer feel that way. No man felt anything for her once they saw the way she looked. He was pressed against her back and she was shocked to feel the pulse of his erection. It was the first time a man had ever had a hard-on for her. The first and probably the last cock she would ever feel. She enjoyed the experience for a second—she’d never known known a man who desired her—before reality set in.

He span her around and pushed back the hood of her cape, which had been hiding her from view.

This was the moment.

He looked at her face and gasped.

The stab to her heart almost winded her. She should be used to that sort of look. She’d lived with it all her life and this man was no different from all the others. But for some reason seeing him look at her with revulsion hurt more than she wanted it to.

If she had time, she would cry herself to sleep later.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Placing a smile on her scarred face, Poppy extended her hand. “Poppy. Nice to meet you.”

He stared at her hand. She had scars lining the skin, just as ugly as the one on her face. Dropping her hand, she kept her smile firmly in place as she died a little more inside.

He hesitated. “What are you?”

Ah, the perfect question.

“I’m a necromancer.”

Chapter Two

The banging was the worst part, as the prisoners were moved from one cell to another. She lay on the bed waiting. The clanking of the cages and the growls of the inhabitants filled the air. She was nothing more than an animal waiting for the slaughter.

Katie twirled her hair between his fingers. She looked at the edges of white mixing with her mousy brown. There was nothing else to do but sit and wait and watch her own magic destroying her. Twenty-three-years old