Remember Me

By Genella deGrey

Dacious is a penitent fallen angel, who—under God's command—must endure human emotions and dwell only in the darkness of night. His plans to save a sect of vampires from eternal damnation go awry when they discover he’s not one of them. While in search of a new mission, Dacious becomes irresistibly drawn to the light of a remarkable aura and the beauty of the young woman at its core.

Gemmah Parker is a pure-hearted, God-based psychic. When her loving mentor of four years passes into the next life, Gemmah's fervent wish is to continue Kyra's work. With many lessons ahead of her, Gemmah has no time to be courted by a handsome, flirtatious man she just met, but with whom she feels a deep familiarity.

Erzebet, queen of a small sect of vampires, makes a deal with Lucifer that if she can have one night of ecstasy with Dacious, she would hand the traitor over to him. Lucifer agrees and Erzebet absconds with Gemmah to her castle to lure Dacious to the delicacies of her bedchamber and eventually to his doom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Genella deGrey
• Release date: Dec 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301668427

Genella deGrey

Born and reared in Southern California, Genella deGrey longed to be your typical blonde, tanned, surfer girl but failed miserably. Unable to sit idle without falling asleep, she embarked upon several artistic endeavors. Makeup and set dressing for the entertainment industry, Resort Enhancement for The Walt Disney Company and writing sexy historical romance top the list of her favorite activities.A consummate closet goth and amateur music and [red] wine enthusiast, she’s also a hopeless romantic anticipating the arrival of her very own ‘happily ever after.’

Book preview

Prologue

An unfamiliar, rhythmic pounding woke Dacious, shaking the ground of the strange shallow cave. At the entrance, his best friend Jehoel crouched just inside, staring out at the world beyond. Reaching up, Dacious splayed his fingers across his chest where a wound from the blade of Lucifer’s sword should have been.

Nothing. Not even pain lingered. His friend must have had had a hand in the healing.

Jehoel turned a somber gaze to Dacious, but as he rose to go to him, Jehoel stopped him. You must not touch me, Dahs.

He nearly lost his breath. What—? Why?

I cannot explain, brother, but I must pass to you a message from Him.

Dacious blinked at his fellow angel and nodded. Go on then. He curled his fingers into fists, preparing himself for what must surely be bad news

The Almighty knows of your penitence, Jehoel said. "Nevertheless, you will be made an example of. You must dwell upon this new plane, but not as an actual part of the race of inhabitants, which will be called human. You have been granted select human attributes, however, and you will suffer the consequences of your actions. You will have the ability to impose your will on some things and others you cannot. You will not be successful in contacting us, but must remain mostly in seclusion for an unknown age, adhering to specific rules."

Dacious hung his head, vanquished. His worst fears weren’t even close to a total separation from his Father. God had every right to punish him, in whatever way He saw fit, for standing with Lucifer—that much was obvious. But this? His throat tightened. What are these rules of which you speak?

Jehoel’s head came up and Dacious knew that look. Heaven was requesting his brother’s return.

An invisible pain seared through Dacious’s stomach. If all Jehoel said was true, Dacious would never again hear his fellow angels call his name. And this would only the beginning of his punishment.

That is all I can tell you. I must go. Jehoel ascended from the ground.

Wait! I do not understand!

From high in the air, Jehoel gazed down at him. Sadness and compassion briefly distorted his chiseled features. You must find your own way, Dahs.

And then he was gone.

Dacious pressed his palms to his forehead. Without Jehoel, the vacuity of the cave threatened to swallow him. In his heart, the emptiness was even more acute. Ever since he could remember, Jehoel could be summoned with a word. But now he could physically feel the severed connection from his brother, his home—even from God, which was the worst of it.

Strange, drops oozed from Dacious’s eyes, and a huge, invisible weight compressed his chest. Why did it take so much effort to breathe? Tightness wracked his body and he struggled to remain upright. He fell against the rough stone wall and slid to the dirt floor. Dacious couldn’t imagine not being in the powerful light of God’s presence. Shame and self-loathing pressed down upon him, almost to the point of suffocation.

For what seemed like an endless period, he lingered in the cave. The initial conversation with Lucifer replayed in his mind. Dacious should have refused him, but the trust he had with his brothers wouldn’t have permitted it at the time.

Shades of gray light eventually overtook the dark shadow near the cave entrance. Dacious pushed himself up from the ground and, in three strides, crossed beyond the threshold.

Ambient colors slowly transformed from blues and pinks to a golden brightness, and Dacious’s heart leapt. Could God have changed his mind? Has my Lord come back for me? A dot of orange fire appeared over the body of liquid that lapped with great force against the base of the hill below the cave. The light burned his eyes, but no amount of rubbing would convey relief. The stinging heat spread to his face and scalded his skin. An agonizing cry tore from his throat, echoing in his ears as he stumbled back into the cool darkness.

Pressing himself against the far corner of the cave, he huddled on the floor under the cowl of his robe and squeezed his eyes shut, wishing with all his being to bring an end to this nightmare.

Chapter One

1889

With a gasp, Dacious sat up, in his lonely, light-deprived bedchamber. Rubbing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, he wished for the ten-thousandth time that his dreams would cease to haunt him. If there was something he could do to forget the reason for his exile, he would do it. Alcohol, women, sleep-deprivation—not a single vice helped. A just punishment for his ignorance, he supposed.

The human aspects, which he had been blessed with, plagued him as well.

Human emotions were more powerful than anything he’d ever experienced. Such feelings would cause even his brother Michael, the Archangel, to abandon hope. Dacious was somewhat familiar with anger, but as an angel he’d been spared such intensity. In his experience, they had called it ‘righteous anger’—and it didn’t burn like molten rock in his stomach while in the service of God.

Moreover, love plagued him like no other emotion. Love, whether coupled with sexual desire or not, manifested so strongly, so powerfully, that Dacious found himself completely drawn in. Zealously infatuated.

Obsessed—like a vampire over its creation.

Vampires. Dacious groaned. They were his one and only chance for salvation.

How ironic that he’d had to commune with the hellish creatures every so often in order to eventually be welcomed back through the gates of Heaven. Although Heaven may not have assigned this earthly task, he had to do something to regain redemption.

And it may as well be the most difficult thing he could find.

In a matter of hours, he would be at Erzebet’s centum gathering. Tonight, he would make them see God’s divine forgiveness—or all of his visits will have been for naught.

* * * * *

Cachtice Castle, Hungary

Erzebet stood nude in the center of her magnificent bedchamber, having just come from a hot salt bath; it was the best thing for her delicate skin next to bathing in human blood. She ran her hands down her rib cage, over her hips and circled back via her abdomen and breasts. As her soft fingers grazed her nipples, she thought of him.

Dacious, Erzebet whispered. She smiled at the way his name fluttered from her lips like a sigh.

Daaah-see-us, she murmured again, drawing out the pronunciation. She cupped her breasts and squeezed. She had not laid eyes on him in a hundred years.

What has he been doing with himself all this time? Her query echoed off the stone walls of her boudoir. Besides not visiting my bed. Releasing her breasts, she pushed the negative thought aside and pouted. She was a countess before she became immortal, before she became queen of the vampires. She was worshipped by her court, and yet she had been thus far unsuccessful in getting this particular stubborn one into her bed.

Bloody damned hell.

Just then, her maid Joan walked through her chamber with the first bucket of used bathwater to be discarded.

Make haste girl, or incur my wrath, Erzebet grounded out.

Joan did not raise her eyes, but hurried out of the room.

Erzebet exhaled sharply, took up her organdy white robe, pulled it on and paced across her floor. Was there no one who would help her get Dacious into her bed? She glanced at the heavy black velvet curtain that concealed her satanic altar where it stood in a dark alcove of her room.

No, she whispered. She would not beg her prince for such a trifle. She meant to accomplish this particular task herself.

Her frown melted into a pliant grin. Dacious would be there tonight, she was sure of it. He always attended her centennial gatherings. It could be counted on like the setting of the sun. And this time, she would persuade him to take her. She must. For too many years she had lusted after him, burned for him, and imagined his hands on her body. Yes, she was immortal, but Erzebet knew it would destroy her will to exist if she could not have the devastatingly handsome Dacious pressing his flesh into hers. Blood rushed to her cheeks at the thought of riding his powerful body.

This time, she would do or say anything to bend him to her will.

* * * * *

Remove your hands from around my throat, Vlad, Dacious said with deadly calm. "I will answer the summons to attend the countess when I see fit and not before." He did not attend Erzebet Batheroy’s gatherings for social reasons. Moreover, he would never acknowledge her as a queen, despite Vlad’s many demands in the past.

A small sect of no more than one-hundred or so of the undead, Countess Batheroy’s court was particularly thick in the tight circle of creatures that flitted around their queen. They whispered in corners and glanced enigmatically to one another across rooms. Dacious did not wish to be included in their inner sanctum, but to mingle with them just enough to share God’s message, which was proving to be a very delicate, if not tedious, operation.

Count Vlad Tepes had always opposed him with the utmost vitriol. One of the Lords on the High Council of the Countess’s Vampires, advisor to, creator of and viciously obsessed with their undisputed queen, Vlad would do anything for Erzebet, even unto allowing as many lovers access to her bed as she requested.

She wants more than a word with you, Pup. It would be wise for you to bow to her wishes, Vlad hissed in Dacious’s ear.

Dacious didn’t even flinch when the count used the ridiculous nickname the vampires had given him. Not a single Creature of the Night knew he’d been witness to the very first sunrise. He seized the count’s wrist and freed himself from The Impaler’s grip. I bow to no creation. He said tightly.

Vlad laughed insincerely, most likely embarrassed by Dacious’s show of strength. Perhaps not, but were you to lay yourself at the feet of Erzebet, you would find more pleasure at the mercy of her hands than any highly-skilled whore could ever give you.

You heard what I have to say on the subject. Dacious pivoted on his heel and stalked away.

Vlad materialized from mist in front of Dacious. Do not turn your back on me, Pup! His fangs emerged beneath his parted lips.

Without batting an eyelash, Dacious made himself invisible and passed through the infuriated vampire.

* * * * *

Dacious crossed his arms and surveyed the room from a corner, in order to cool his ire and muster courage to approach Erzebet. She’d been eyeing him all night long from her throat in that predator-like way of hers. And it made his skin crawl. Erzebet Batheroy was nothing but a spoiled aristocrat-turned-neurotic vampire, and Vlad encouraged her childish vices at every turn.

Since he’d been brooding for half of the night, Dacious supposed it would be in his best interest to go over, greet the hostess and get on with his mission.

Pushing himself away from the wall, he approached the dais where Erzebet’s sat on her expertly carved and well-cushioned, green velvet-covered chair. He watched with masked revulsion as her snake-like tongue flicked out, moistening her lips.

His stomach churned. Had he not been two steps from her, he might have forgone the whole thing.

Erzebet shifted anxiously in her chair as Dacious approached, fingering the jet-raven charm at her throat. It had been a very long time in between calls, and he’d certainly taken his sweet time to greet her. Regardless of his tardiness, he was, without a doubt, the finest specimen she had ever seen. Up until now, every invitation she’d presented him with to join her in her bed had been declined, however gracious. She’d offered herself and had even upped the ante to three virgin girls, all to no avail.

But tonight… She tossed her empty wine goblet at a passing servant and pressed her damp palms into the fabric-covered arms of her chair. There was only one thing she’d been deprived of, only one thing she wanted. And this time there was no way in Hell she’d let him go.

Moisture gathered between her thighs at the sight of him in his formal attire. His broad shoulders and his muscled arms would crush her in the right position.

Erzebet flicked her tongue over her lips at the thought. If his body didn’t entice her, his stunning bone structure did. His proud, high cheekbones rose over a masculine jaw and chin. Damn, what she wouldn’t do to sit writhing upon that face.

Countess Batheroy.

Dacious. She held out her soft, snow-white hand for him to kiss. It seems so long since we’ve had the pleasure of seeing you.

Dacious forced a smile and took her hand. He had no intention whatsoever of giving her what she wanted, not even a simple kiss on the back of her hand. The horrid woman was pure evil—probably a daughter of Lucifer.

Or wife.

Or both.

Yes, well—

Have you changed your mind and become tempted by my beckoning?

I am, as always, tempted, he lied. However, I have come to present my case—

Of trying to dissuade us from doing what comes naturally to the nocturnal set? Vlad finished the sentence from his seat next to Erzebet.

Erzebet’s courtiers tittered at the count’s witty phrasing.

Dacious eyed the pair on the dais. May I have a word? He hoped she noted the affability in his voice.

Erzebet jumped from her seat and Vlad shifted his jealous gaze away.

Ignoring Vlad’s unnecessary reaction, Dacious led Erzebet to the ballroom floor.

The waltz began. Erzebet closed her eyes and sighed. When will you come to me? I am growing ever so tired of waiting.

Countess, I am here to prove to your court that it is unnecessary to—

Darling, you have given your speech at every one of my gatherings since the beginning, and never have they listened to you. What makes you think they will this time?

My lady, there are other ways—

Erzebet shook her head. No, there are not.

Frustrated, he looked down into her eyes as if he could discover there a way to chase away her negativity.

Dacious, I don’t wish for you to be upset with me. Come, let me make you smile again. What else I can do for you, something with more pleasurable results, perhaps? She grinned.

Dacious didn’t reply and, quite against decorum, avoided her gaze for the remainder of their dance.

On the way back to her throne, she pulled him into a long corridor that ran the length of the great hall. Through the tall, arched windows shone the night sky. Stars glittered like diamonds through the lead crystal panes, providing the only source of light.

They walked in silence until they came to the far end of the passageway. Erzebet released his arm and stepped over to a stone bench, set deep within a starlit alcove. She turned back to him. Her filmy blouse lay open to her waist, and her corset was gone.

Touch me, Dacious. Make love to me.

Dacious closed his eyes against the sight. When he opened them again, he found that she had transported them. They now stood in a garden lit by oil lamps that cast a golden glow over the scene. Erzebet’s arms attempted to pull him closer.

Dacious, look at me, she whispered.

He dropped his gaze from the glittering, nighttime sky to Erzebet’s shining eyes.

I will have that kiss now, she gently demanded.

I don’t owe you a kiss.

Ah, but you do. I see no other gift for your hostess.

Purposefully, he took the conversation in a different direction. Where are we?

Versailles. She smiled, and then sobered. But you must not change the subject.

Dacious forced the breath from his lungs in a huff. If I give you one kiss—

Erzebet stomped a delicate foot. Why must everything be a transaction with you? Am I not desirable to you? She pouted.

Erzebet, you are very beautiful—

Tell me more. Her eyes shone with a desperate hunger and she grasped the lapels of his coat.

He saw no harm in giving in to her, but hesitated for a moment before speaking. Your skin is like the finest alabaster—

And my lips—tell me about my lips. She sighed, pressing her body to his.

Your lips are so very red. Similar to—

Blood? she said, arching her delicate brows over hooded eyes.

He nodded.

Tell me the truth. You are not one of us, are you? she asked as if the question injured her to ask it.

Dacious looked away.

Vlad is convinced—oh, well, no matter. Her hands moved to his upper arms, and she clawed at the fabric of his sleeves. I want you just as you are, here, while the stars look on, shining their light upon our bodies.

Erzebet, he began, hoping to dissuade her.

No. I don’t want to hear your opposition—I don’t want you to deny me any longer. She placed a hand upon his cheek, forcing him to face her once again. I have dreamt of you, burned for you, and now we are here together—alone. You said that I was beautiful; you said that you were tempted by me; what else do you require?

A soul, he murmured. He hadn’t meant to say it allowed, but there it was, out in the open.

She chuckled softly. Don’t be silly, Dacious. The undead have no souls.

You could, you know.

Could what?

Have a soul, have forgiveness…salvation.

Erzebet smiled. I have heard your speeches before, my darling. I must repent to have forgiveness, she said in a sing-songish voice. Repent and not return to my ‘debauched’ ways, as you put it.

For the first time that evening, hope filled Dacious. Yes! You must repent and—

Dacious, let me tell you something. I have everything I could possibly want. I am beautiful and will never age, I have lovers in every corner of the world, I am queen of the Vampires, and they worship me—

You also have eternal damnation looming before you when this age meets its end.

Erzebet shrugged her shoulders. Seems a fair exchange, she said, laughter in her voice.

Dacious stepped out of her arms and ran a hand through the top of his hair. You don’t understand. The killing must stop! he said with more rancor than he’d intended.

Oh Dacious, why should you care about these silly humans? What are you? Some sort of guardian angel or something? she teased.

Dacious had no response to her query. He never imagined she would come to the conclusion on her own.

Dacious, she whispered, her eyes wide. At once she leapt at him. Reaching up, she threw her arms around his neck. Are you truly an angel? She didn’t give him a chance to answer. Can you imagine if we mated, what kind of child we would have? Why, he would be a king!

No, Erzebet.

But, Dacious, the power of our pleasure would consume us both in passionate flames, which would—

No, Dacious repeated more forcefully than before.

Erzebet dissolved into a thick mist that surrounded both of them. Suddenly, Dacious found himself engulfed in satin sheets, Erzebet clinging to him, pawing at him, arousing him.

I must have you, angel, she breathed into his ear. Her hand slipped beneath the waist of his trousers. I must have you inside me, pleasuring me with all of your might.

Dacious gritted his teeth against the sensation and made himself invisible.

Noooo! Erzebet screamed her protest as she looked down at her empty C-shaped hand.

Chapter Two

London, 3:00 AM

Gemmah Parker strolled along the wooden sidewalk in the wee hours of the morning. She was on her way home from an emergency house call to one of Kyra’s top clients, the Fibish’s. Mr. Fibish had contracted a mild cold, which settled in his chest, and requested a special quartz crystal from Krya that would expedite healing. This quartz would enhance the properties of other stones already in his possession.

Kyra had discussed the matter with Gemmah, and they agreed the expensive crystal would make him feel less anxious, so Kyra allowed him to make the purchase. They both knew the stone would not instantly heal him, and Gemmah had tried to tell him so, but he was determined to try the therapy, regardless. She’d made the house call alone, insisting that Kyra, her mentor and best friend, remain indoors for the night. Kyra was getting on in years and was more and more susceptible to dampness.

Passing a boisterous pub along her way, Gemmah stopped to enjoy the happy feelings emanating from its assembly. On her tip-toes, and with her nose inches from the window pane, she focused on the silly drunken people, giggling quietly as their fuzziness filled her head. She reveled with the winners at the gambling tables and sensed the soft caresses of clandestine passionate encounters in dark corners.

Would she ever actually feel that kind of touch? The thought crossed her mind every so often, but her schedule was such that she was kept pretty busy learning how to distinguish one herb from another, and what stones held the vibrations that could heal.

All at once, waves of all too familiar goose-flesh rushed over her body, and the hair on her scalp and neck rose. She opened her eyes and darted her gaze darted about. Rubbing her arms underneath her cloak to calm the prickling skin, she spoke to an empty sidewalk. I do beg your pardon.

Having flown from the clutches of Erzebet at Versailles, Dacious wandered the streets of London before he headed home, in case one of her hordes followed him.

Not only was he being cautious, but he also needed to clear his head. He wondered if Erzebet would try to seek him out. His hands fisted within his pockets, deep in thought, he stalked through the night air.

Now that Erzebet knew the truth about him, never again would he have the opportunity to show them God’s absolution. He was positive Erzebet would confirm his not being a member of the Brethren, and they would eventually deduce that God himself had given him his faculties.

They were the Damned. The Almighty had forsaken them. He was unable to imagine the jealousy and animosity they would hold for him now.

Frustrated at the loss of something that had occupied him for more than five-hundred years, he considered the possibility of spending the night with a prostitute, even though he knew fornication was frowned upon. He needed to ease the unrestrained emotions caused by the events of the evening—human emotions he yet wrestled to contain despite his centuries of existence.

How astonishing it was to him that man began his life struggling to escape the woman’s womb, and later found his cravings overpowering him to get as close as possible to the hallowed ground of the human doorway of creation. Here a man could prove his prowess, continue one’s line, and bury his fears simultaneously.

Regardless, Dacious’s need for a frantic coupling dissipated with the gravity of his current circumstances. He exhaled in frustration. He would place himself in seclusion once again, back into the abysmal isolation he’d experienced before he’d set off on his mission to evangelize the vampires. Only the occasional evening of social companionship would break the monotony of his life. Any other encounters beyond carnal need served no purpose. Due to his condition, he found it futile to pursue anything beyond a single night.

Dacious clenched his fists in fury. Hadn’t he already paid dearly for standing up to be counted with that rebel, Lucifer? Hadn’t he lived alone, haunted by his past for thousands of years, with no contact with the heavenly realms? It had taken him hundreds of years to decipher the abilities God had bestowed upon him, which facilitated his survival, but what good would these powerful entitlements do him now? How was he ever to redeem himself in the eyes of his Father, now that he had failed in his self-appointed mission?

Dacious inhaled deeply and let loose a primal growl that eased his aggravation for the moment. At once, the air around him turned luminous, thick like spiced mead, and he stopped short. Only once had he observed such golden brilliance: his first brush with the sun. As it had then, this light dazzled him. And dear God in Heaven, what is that scent? He shook his head to clear his senses. In front of him, in the center of the anomaly, a pretty, young woman peered into the window of a pub, reaching up on her tiptoes with her eyes closed and a pleasant smile on her face.

Still invisible, Dacious walked straight for her, taking in her scent and basking in her life-sustaining light. Now engulfed in the bright space, he plunged his fingers underneath her bonnet and ruffled her hair a bit. The small action sent waves of her perfume to his nostrils. He had to step away lest he attempt to possess her fully. He leaned against the wall on the edge of the aura, still trying to breathe in the air around her, and allowed her radiance to wash over his light-starved body.

The young woman turned her head and said to no one in particular. I do beg your pardon.

Dacious ran his hands through his hair. To whom is she speaking? Surely not him, he was invisible. He glanced down at his non-existent body to double-check.

Nothing. Not a ripple in the air.

The young woman turned from the window and walked past Dacious. Her scent faded the further away she went, which wouldn’t do at all. A barrage of emotions consumed him—he must stay with her, must follow her, or perish trying. And for Heaven’s sake, this is London—and in the middle of the night! Who knows what kinds of characters might approach her.

Pushing his worries about Erzebet aside, Dacious trailed the young woman. In the wake of her perfume and the headiness it created, he lowered his gaze to the gentle sway of her bustle below the hem of her short cape. She must taste as good as she smells. All cookies and sugar. His blood surged. He could not just hand her a few pounds and offer her a soft bed for a few hours. She was not one of the local floozies. So, what in the world was she doing out walking the streets this late at night without a chaperone? And how could she sense his presence?

* * * * *

It must have been four o’ clock in the morning when Gemmah crept up the stairs, as not to awaken Kyra. She entered her room, shed her clothes, slid her nightgown over her head, and climbed into bed.

Awake for nearly twenty-four hours now, she was exhausted.

One eye slowly opened and peered over at the dressing table. Brilliant, Gemmah, she grumbled. She had forgotten to snuff out the candle. She peeled back the covers and padded over to the table. An eerie, familiar feeling overcame her, and she paused next to her rocking chair. Gemmah briefly closed her eyes. A figure loomed in the corner behind the chair.

Gemmah opened her eyes and spoke directly to the unseen shadow. "I’m sorry. This is my room, and you