Copyright © 2008 Genella deGrey
All rights reserved, Freya's Bower.
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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 God,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. 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, his gaze lowered 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?