Fallen Elemental (Elemental Series Book 1) Read online

  Fallen Elemental

  Elemental Series

  Tamara White

  Contents

  © 2019 Tamara White

  Important Note

  1. Evelyn

  2. Theodore

  3. Evelyn

  4. Dane

  5. Michael

  6. Evelyn

  7. Kylan

  8. Evelyn

  9. Theodore

  10. Evelyn

  11. Michael

  12. Evelyn

  13. Dane

  14. Evelyn

  15. Dane

  16. Evelyn

  17. Dane

  18. Evelyn

  19. Michael

  20. Theodore

  21. Dane

  22. Evelyn

  23. Dane

  24. Evelyn

  25. Evelyn

  26. Kylan

  27. Michael

  28. Kylan

  29. Evelyn

  30. Evelyn

  31. Theodore

  32. Evelyn

  33. Dane

  34. Evelyn

  35. Michael

  36. Kylan

  37. Evelyn

  38. Dane

  39. Michael

  40. Theodore

  41. Evelyn

  42. Evelyn

  43. Dane

  44. Evelyn

  45. Theodore

  46. Evelyn

  47. Theodore

  48. Kylan

  49. Evelyn

  50. Michael

  51. Evelyn

  52. Theodore

  53. Evelyn

  54. Kylan

  55. Evelyn

  56. Evelyn

  57. Kylan

  58. Dane

  59. Evelyn

  60. Kylan

  61. Evelyn

  62. Michael

  63. Evelyn

  64. Michael

  65. Evelyn

  66. Dane

  67. Evelyn

  68. Evelyn

  69. Michael

  70. Dane

  71. Evelyn

  72. Theodore

  Note From the Author

  Books By Tamara White

  © 2019 Tamara White

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Important Note

  Author Note / Trigger Warning

  Before reading this, it’s worth noting this book is a RE-RELEASE. Meaning I have previously published it before, and I only pulled it for re-editing as there were many complaints. Some things have changed drastically, but I have kept the base line plot the same as much as I could. Sadly, some things may still seem inconsistent, especially if you have read book two and three when previously published but they too will be rewritten.

  It is also important you understand this book is told in multiple points of view and has things readers may find distressing. There are instances of parental abuse and bullying that some may find triggering. The bullying aspect is mean girl stuff in school, not by the men. Still, if you don’t like either of these things, then feel free to pass on this book.

  One

  Evelyn

  Do you ever get that feeling that the whole world has been tipped on its axis and everything in your life is about to change? Well, that’s how I’ve felt for the past two weeks. It started with a dream of people protecting me, emanating nothing but peace, love and magic. Then the next morning when I went to the library to study, I felt strange. Like there was a new energy stirring within me, just waiting to break free. And with that energy came a feeling, a reassurance that soon I would be safe from the horrors I endure every day.

  As each day passed, I noticed strange new emotions running through me. It felt almost as if they weren’t my own and with those new emotions came something else. Magic, or at least I’m pretty sure that’s what it is. I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen the fountain outside the library spray water all over me and a few others, or if I hadn’t felt a wave of arousal that I know for a fact wasn’t my own. I tried to explain it away at first as something else, but nothing I could come up with even came close to explaining away all the strange things that were occuring.

  I’ve lived here for the past three years with nothing like this happening to me, but now, it’s like everything has changed. My heart seems to know and accept that, but I’ve so far been unable to figure out exactly what it is. Because nothing really has changed, right? I’m still the same nobody I’ve always been. At least I think so…

  As I pull into the school parking lot, a shiver runs through me and that strange feeling washes over me again, so intense that my limbs start to turn to jelly.

  I sit in my car, taking deep breaths as I wait for the sensation to pass. But that feeling doesn't disappear. Instead, it grows stronger, sending little sparks of static electricity through my body.

  I’ve never felt anything like this before, and while I know I should be freaking the hell out right now, it doesn’t actually frighten me at all. If anything, I’m filled with a sense of anticipation. An eagerness for change, which is exactly what this sensation promises. Change and hope.

  I turn off the engine and take another deep breath, steeling myself for whatever’s to come. Then I climb out of my car, grab my backpack and go towards the school.

  I know from memory that the building is a rusty reddish color, but I don’t even look up as I approach. I’m so used to the same routine, day in and day out, that I could find my way blindly at this point.

  Most days, I get up, go to school, go to the library or my private little sanctuary, and then go straight home. I don't have friends. I don't have study dates or go to parties. I only do what my parents expect of me.

  Yes, it’s a quiet existence, but for my safety, I need to keep everyone at a distance. My parents are very strict and like to punish me for anything that displeases them. And unfortunately, there’s a lot that displeases them. By defying their wishes, I may as well be asking for a beating.

  Before junior high, I never really had many friends, preferring to be on my own. But when I started ninth grade, I decided to open up and try to make some new friends. And it worked. For almost the whole first year of junior high, I would have friends over almost all the time. We’d play board games or eat snacks while we studied. Sometimes we would even play out in the yard, stupid childish games like hide and seek where we would all wait to see who would accidently give the others away. It was more that everyone would hide and the person who laughed first lost.

  It took a while for me to realize that my parents didn’t much like me having friends over. I started noticing my punishments would get harsher the more times I had people at the house.

  After they went home, I would be ordered by my parents to do every inch of housework, which left me utterly exhausted. Eventually, I just started doing all of the housework before school, so that way when I came home, there was only dinner left to do. But it was never good enough for my parents. Even so, I never clued into what I was being punished for until my father came home in a rage one night while I had some people over.

  I could see it bristling under the surface of his polite facade, and I knew when my friends left, it would be bad. I almost considered having them stay longer just to avoid the inevitable punishment, but I didn't. Instead I made my goodbyes and they left with their parents. I watched them disappear down our drive, then made my way into the kitchen where I knew my father would be. I held my hea
d high and my back straight as I waited for him to turn and face me. Whatever was coming was my fault. I’d invited such punishment on myself, hadn’t I? I could have been better, done better. After all, they only punished me to help me learn from my mistakes. At least that was what I thought before the beating that changed my life.

  My father turned slowly, and the intensity of his sudden slap clued me in to the fact that it wouldn’t be a normal punishment I would receive that night. After the first slap came another and another, until my legs trembled with fear. The next hit was with a closed fist and had enough force behind it that I lost my balance and tumbled to the floor. I thought it would finally be over. But he didn’t stop there.

  Once I was down, my father continued, only he reverted to kicking me, rather than get down to my level. And while this was happening, my mother just stood there watching. At first I thought she would help me, end my pain, but she just watched on with this twisted look on her face.

  That night, he beat me so badly that he had no choice but to take me to the hospital.

  Three broken ribs, a black eye, the ulna and radius in my right arm were both fractured, as well as the humerus in my left. But the worst part had been on the drive over. During the whole ride to the hospital, he reiterated if I uttered a peep about what he had done, there would be nowhere I could hide that he wouldn’t find me, and that the punishment I had just endured would look like a walk through the park compared to what he would do to me then.

  Needless to say, I stopped bringing friends around after that and talked to people at school only when I had to. The punishments eased up after that, for which I was thankful.

  I still had a few friends I would eat lunch with, but even then I kept my distance. I started to withdraw further into myself and eventually the friends I had either all eventually forgot about me completely, or became my bullies.

  I shake my head to free myself of my dark thoughts and look up, realizing I’m already inside the school. As I walk through the halls, taking in the plain beige walls and silver lockers, I'm reminded again of how underfunded this school is. Nothing ever seems to change.

  It’s been the same since I started here three years ago. Even though the school needs a major overhaul, I imagine it’ll be a long time before that happens. It’s hard to get funding for a school on the wrong side of the tracks.

  By the time I reach my locker, the usual whispers and taunts have already reached my ears but I block it all out. Instead, I focus on stuffing my books into my locker, taking only the ones I’ll need for English.

  Once I’m sure I have everything, I close my locker and lean against it as I wait for the first bell to ring. As I’m waiting, there’s no longer anything to help me tune out all the voices. I wait for the inevitable hurtful words to reach my ears, but I'm surprised because it seems like no one is actually focused on me today.

  Instead, they all seem to be discussing some new students who apparently arrived today.

  "Have you seen them yet?"

  "They are so hot!"

  "Why did they move here? They look like they are rich enough to buy the school three times over if their clothes are anything to go by."

  The loudest exclamations come from a group of girls not too far away and I find myself intrigued by their words. It's unusual enough for one new student to come to school here, but multiple?

  The last new student at Ashville High was me and that was a little over three years ago, so needless to say, this is a pretty big deal. There are two schools in the area and Ashville has the reputation of being the poor people’s school. Still, it doesn’t stop some of the girls here from acting like spoiled little brats. And that’s another thing that makes this all the more intriguing. If these new students look rich enough for the other school, then why are they here?

  The first bell goes off and I shake myself from my thoughts. It really doesn't matter why they’re here. I won't be making friends with them anyway, and I’m sure they’ll steer clear of me as soon as they get wind of my reputation at this school.

  I leave my locker, heading to my class just down the hall. As I walk, I can still hear the whispers about these hot guys who have invaded our school. All the cheerleaders and cheerleader wannabes are preening in preparation, fluffing up their hair, applying lip gloss and adjusting their cleavage.

  Ugh, that's just great. With new males in the population, the girls are going to go nuts. It's bad enough they use me as the butt of their jokes to amuse the usual idiots here. But now, I’m sure they're going to go out of their way to be bitchy to me, especially if these new guys are anything like the ones who already go to school here. Not that any of it gets to me anymore, I just find it tiring.

  The door to my English class is already open, so I head inside. I hurry over to my usual seat in the back and wait as the rest of the class begins to shuffle in reluctantly.

  No one other than me likes Mr. Matthews’ class. He’s one of the few teachers who assigns homework, whereas the other teachers seem to be pretty lax in their duties as educators. But homework for me is a good thing. It means more time away from my parents’ punishments. After all, if I ever fell behind in my schooling, it would lead to questions from the school, considering I am one of the few people here with good grades.

  I settle back in my chair and look at each of the other students. There are a few empty seats around me, but that isn't unusual. The students tend to give me a wide berth, which means I usually get to sit back and enjoy my solitude.

  I can't help but notice that none of the new students are in this class. What does surprise me, though, is the disappointment I feel at that realization. Why the hell am I disappointed by the fact that none of the new guys are in my class?

  I don't get long to linger on that sliver of disappointment, though, because Mr. Matthews comes into the classroom, leaving the door open behind him. Usually he closes it, so it seems a little odd for him not to do so today.

  The balding teacher I have come to love for his desire to give out homework makes his way to his desk and slams down a pile of papers on his desk. When he would do that at the beginning of the year, we would all jump, but we’re all pretty used to it by now so nobody reacts.

  Mr. Matthews asks us to pull out our workbooks and continue working on our reports, which make up half of our grade. We started them about a month ago and he had us pair off for the assignment. Our class has an odd number of students, though, and that meant I got stuck doing it alone. Honestly, though, I prefer it that way. I think Mr. Matthews knows that too, which is why he didn't demand I join up with another group of two.

  While everyone else groans and grumbles about their project, I smile happily and dive into my report, blocking out everything else. I'm so absorbed in my work, that it’s a good few minutes before I notice the change in the room. At some point in the past ten minutes, the class had gone completely silent, and you could hear a pin drop.

  At the feel of eyes burning into me, I slowly lift my gaze from my book. My heart racing with adrenaline, like prey that has just been found by a very dangerous predator.

  When I finally process the sight before me, I can't help the small strangled gasp that slips free.

  The most mesmerizing pair of amber eyes stare back at me, piercing me with their intensity.

  There stand two men I’ve never seen before, one of whom is staring at me while the other talks to Mr. Matthews, probably about classwork or the report. These must be the new students everyone was talking about this morning. All these damn girls are going to go crazy, and then I’ll be stuck dealing with the fallout.

  The amber-eyed hottie is still staring at me, and I find it hard to tear my gaze away from him. I study him intently, admiring the thick black hair that frames his face and falls just over his eyes. He brushes a loose strand aside, the movement slow like he knows he’s caught my attention.

  He smirks and winks at me and it's like my whole world shifts in that moment. For the first time in forever, I find mysel
f considering whether to risk letting someone into my bubble.

  Wait, what am I thinking? I can't let anyone in. Not ever. The pain just isn't worth it.

  I continue to gaze at the black-haired guy, and notice that his jeans and leather jacket scream luxury. Now I understand what the others were talking about.

  The jeans alone had to cost at least a couple hundred dollars. The black tee he's wearing is for a band I’ve never heard of, and it’s actually signed by the members. Well I assume the band signed it, unless he just had some random people do it to make it look more important than it really is.

  I guess that explains the girls’ earlier confusion. Because really, what is a guy like that doing in a school like this? It just doesn’t make any sense.

  I turn my attention to the second guy, who is still talking to Mr. Matthews and has his back turned to me. While I can't make out much other than the caramel tone of his hair, from the way he stands, there’s a distinct difference in the way the two of them carry themselves. The first guy has an air of cockiness to him while the second guy looks like he doesn't take any shit. Trust me, after years of studying people rather than befriending them, you begin to notice these things.