Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
EPILOGUE
FROM THE ASHES
Forbidden Love Series Book 4
Danielle James
Copyright © 2017 by Danielle James.
All rights reserved. These books or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
DEDICATION
INTRODUCTION
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
EPILOGUE
DEDICATION
I have always said that it isn’t my story, I just tell it. The story actually belongs to the characters, who are sometimes as real to me as any other person. That being said, this book still would not have been written without the help of a few friends. I have a handful of beta readers that are worth their weight in gold. It would be selfish of me to claim I did this all on my own. So, Lisa, Becky, Corina, Kat, Rachel and Nat, I am deeply appreciative for your services. I am grateful for your honesty, your opinions, your encouragement, and the late night debates about to whom Angel actually belongs. I would also like to thank my lovely, super talented daughter, Amber James, for designing the beautiful cover!
INTRODUCTION
The roar of the audience could be heard clearly, even over the music pouring through the sound system and over the steady pounding of the drums in Jacque’s ears. His muscles were screaming with the effort he used, his body covered in a heavy layer of sweat. He had ripped his shirt off seven or eight songs earlier; something that the ladies in the audience had come to love and expect. Of course, Jacque, AKA the Hound Dog, Deiumonteveur lived to please. Or at least, he used to.
Jacque had been with Angel Knight for nearly two centuries. The older vampire had taught Jacque to accept who and what he was. He took him into his family, along with Rebel, Antonio, Gage, and Sebastian. For nearly a decade, the six men, vampires, had built a band together and a legacy.
They were his family. Jacque looked up from his drums to watch Angel and Rebel leap off of the drum stand as one. Sparks shot up from the floor just as their feet hit the stage. Jacque smiled. He could pound on his drums in time with his band mates with his eyes closed. They worked as a team, and they were good at it.
At one time, there had been nothing Jacque loved more than his status as a rock idol. Of course, he enjoyed working for Angel Knight, the California Clan Leader, as his physicist, or all around science guy, and he enjoyed living at his estate with his brothers. Lately he had even doubled as the house doctor, what with Rebel’s baby coming and all. There was never a shortage of excitement when one lived with the Clan Leader.
The last few years had more than proven that. First, it was Angel and his mate Brea, and then Sebastian and Jessica. And of course, Rebel and his mate Leigh. The latter just so happened to be a dragon.
It was the only other living dragon (at the time) who took Antonio from the group. Jacque missed him like he missed his own unclaimed mate.
Jacque never wanted a mate. No, he enjoyed women far too much to settle down with just one. His love of the opposite sex and the extreme measures he would take to please those women is what earned him the nick name, Hound Dog.
That was before he met her. Francine Howard. AKA Frankie. A petite woman all of five foot three inches tall, brown hair, brown eyes, and by all standards, she was plain. But something about her called to Jacque. To him, she was the most gorgeous creature on the planet. She had a great sense of humor and a fire in her spirit that refused to be ignored. He had planned to seduce her just as soon as the trouble with a crazy pastor who wanted to kill all vamps was over, but he never got a chance. She was a friend of Jessica, Sebastian’s now wife. She was a witch who helped nail the pastor and congregation to the wall, so to speak. But she had been shot during the conflict.
Jacque, having healing agents in his blood, had allowed her to drink from him. Sure, it healed her injuries, but it also did something else. As soon as her lips touched his skin, Jacque knew. His own soul recognized her as his mate. She was the one who was meant for him. The perfect fit for his mind, body, and soul.
But what did she do? She left. Frankie took off right after the church met its demise and headed east. To some small town in Indiana to visit with other friends or family or something. Jacque never had the chance to pursue her. Not that he didn’t want to. No, the world tour for Angel Knight’s new album had already been scheduled, and Jacque, being the drummer, had to go.
Angel and the rest of Jacque’s family was his first priority. Losing Antonio was hard on them all. Still, it pissed him off that he couldn’t seem to get in touch with her. Jacque slammed his sticks into the drums harder than before. If not for his love of music, pounding away on the drums was at least therapeutic.
At the end of the show, Jacque plastered a fake smile on his face and walked to the front of the stage where the rest of the band was waiting. He blew a kiss to a woman in the front row and watched
her nearly swoon with excitement. A wink for another woman, a smile for yet another. A piece of black fabric flew through the air toward the stage, and Jacque shot his arm out and snatched it out of the air. The bra was at least a D cup. He shot a feral grin that showed his fangs into the crowd and raised the garment to his nose. He made a show of smelling the soft, feminine scent. Outwardly, his reaction was what anyone would have expected. Inwardly, Jacque cringed. Sure, the woman it belonged to smelled nice, but it wasn’t Frankie’s scent. In fact, he felt guilty for smelling it, hell, for even holding it. It wasn’t what he wanted anymore. It wasn’t what he needed.
What he needed came in a petite package that had split for some Podunk little town in Indiana. Jacque ground his teeth and forced himself to smile, just like every other night of this exceptionally long tour.
As they walked off the stage, Sebastian was waiting for them with clean towels and cold water. “Great show, guys. Nice job,” he commented as each of them passed. Jacque nodded and took his towel from him, but said nothing. He didn’t fail to notice the worry in his brother’s pale blue eyes. Sebastian knew Jacque was pining, but he had the good sense not to say anything about it.
“Jacque,” Sebastian said from behind him, “Is everything ok?”
“Yeah,” Jacque called over his shoulder. As ok as it was going to get.
“There’s an entire harem’s worth of women in your dressing room,” Sebastian warned. “Sure you want to go there right now?”
Jacque stopped mid-stride. “Why?” he asked, craning his head around to look at his brother.
“Because last time we were here you gave them VIP passes.”
Aw shit. “Send them to Gage’s room. I’m going to hit the showers.” Jacque walked away without another word. Yeah, the women would be disappointed. They would get over it. He wasn’t interested in anything any of those women could offer. Not unless one of them was Frankie.
And they weren’t.
After his shower he headed home alone. The final show of the first tour without a band mate was finally over. Jacque couldn’t have been more relieved. He had reluctantly agreed to do the tour even though he didn’t know how he was gonna get through it. But he did, just as he got through a lot of shit in his life. People come and go, and sometimes the ones that go are the ones closest to you. For example, sometimes the ones that stay are forever. Like mates. Angel, Sebastian, and Rebel all had theirs, and they had fought fiercely to keep them. Unlike Jacque who knew he had a mate but let her walk out of his life and never went after her because he was just that kind of pussy. And sometimes the ones that stay are irritating mother fuckers who were put on this earth just to piss you off.
The ones that go are usually the ones you want to keep. Like Frankie. The one that got away. Jacque would keep her by his side forever if he only knew where she was. But since he never claimed her as his mate, he had no way to find her.
And then sometimes the ones that go are the ones you spend a lifetime building a relationship with. Like Antonio. Antonio had been more than a guitar player to the band. He was a friend. A brother. Family. He was taken from the brothers by a sick fuck of a dragon while protecting Angel. And once you’re dead, that’s it. Or at least that’s how it’s supposed to be.
Since the night of his memorial, the brothers had taken their turns thinking that they heard his voice, or saw just a flash of his image for the briefest of seconds. They worried that the pleas for help they were hearing were genuine and their brother was in some kind of trouble on the other side. Could it be that they were all losing their fucking minds? Not likely, but they had been to every self-proclaimed psychic and fortune teller in the country and nobody could tell them shit.
He couldn’t even begin to count the number of charlatans who had been in the house, waving their sage sticks and burning candles. One did offer to do an exorcism, but that was hardly what the guys wanted. No, they wanted to know if Antonio was really there or if they had all fallen off their fucking rockers. Of course, the hippie wanna-be exorcist couldn’t tell them for sure. He said there was a spirit that was not at rest. Thanks to Angel’s mind power, his thoughts told the men the real truth. He had no fucking idea whether there was a spirit or not, he just wanted the credit for cleaning the famous Knight Estate of a foul spirit.
But Jacque was determined to find answers. Every few days he would see just a flash of his lost brother. He could see his tall form, his shoulder length, stick straight black hair. His piercing blue eyes. He was always wearing the same leather jacket and the steel toe shit kickers he was killed in. No way would Antonio ever leave one his brothers stranded and Jacque wasn’t going to do it to him.
He sat at his computer, like he had every night since, and began a new search. He read article after article on what could cause a spirit to linger. There was plenty on how to get rid of one. Oh, and there was plenty on how to contact one. The only problem was, Jacque had tried them all so far and none of them had worked. But still, he would read them all because if he skipped even just one, it might be the one that actually did work and he wasn’t going to give up.
***
Jessica straightened her suit jacket and took a deep breath. She waited for her cue and when she saw the red light on the camera, she smiled.
“The weather is certainly doing its own thing in the LA area today,” she began. “Temperatures will fall overnight to near freezing. The chances of precipitation are one hundred percent. You know what that means? It means if the temperature falls even a degree or two below freezing, we just might see some snow.
That’s right people; I’m calling for snow in LA.”
She turned her head to her left and felt an overwhelming sense of irritability. There was no one there. Jessica knew what was going to happen, and again, she could do nothing to stop it.
“Why won’t you leave me alone?” she demanded of someone who wasn’t there. It was obvious. She could see no one and no one was speaking to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the camera crew giving each other worried looks.
“God, just go away!” Jessica shouted. “Fine! I’ll do it just leave me alone!”
Jessica jerked upright in her bed. “Another dream?” Sebastian, her beautiful husband asked.
“Yeah, same one,” Jessica grumbled. She scrubbed her hand over her tired face.
Sebastian turned over and wrapped his arm around her, coaxing her to lie back down. “Go back to sleep,” he mumbled. Jessica tried, but her mind was awake.
As long as she could remember, she had dreams. But never like that. She could help someone who was in trouble, but in her dreams, she was always that person; never herself. And this dream, it bothered her more than usual.
There was no blood, no killers, and no rapists like she usually dreamed about. There was only herself sinking into madness. And wasn’t that a problem.
CHAPTER ONE
“This is the song that never eeeennnds, it just goes on and on my frieeeennnd, some people, STARTED singing it Not KNOWING what it was, and they’ll continue singing it forever just because it is the song that never ends it just goes on and on my friiiieennd…”
Macy turned her iPod up even louder to drown out the dreadful singing. She continued her jog at an even faster clip in vain hopes of outrunning the idiot singing it. Not that it had ever worked before. Macy had always been sensitive to spirits, always been able to get a beat on what they wanted or needed. She could usually just slip an anonymous note under a door or something and fix it. But none of the ones before were anything like this one. None of them had ever directly spoken to her. But this one did. And…He. Would. Not. Go. Away. And he was driving her freaking insane.
“I don’t think you like that song,” the idiot said after about the fiftieth time the song didn’t end. “Maybe I should sing something else. How about Barney? Oh, I know, I know all the words to Dora the Explorer! Yes, that’s what. D-D- Dora! Dora Dora Dora the Explorer!!!”
Macy couldn’t believe she could sti
ll hear him. Her ear buds were jammed tight in her ears and the volume up so loud that it actually hurt, and still, his horrifying singing bled through. She rounded the corner and jogged up the steps to her apartment. She stopped at her door, bent over and rested her hands on her knees while she tried to catch her breath.
“You know, you should really walk a few minutes to cool down, stopping all at once isn’t good for you,” he said.
Macy rolled her eyes and pretended not to hear him. Then, she proceeded to open the door to her apartment and go inside. He followed, of course. She dropped her shoes at the door and headed for the bathroom. She was covered in sweat and desperately needed a hot shower before going to work. The man was hot on her heels as she entered the bathroom.
She turned and looked at him, which she tried not to do because it only encouraged him, and gave him her best, “If you follow me in here you will die a second time,” look. The ghost put both his hands up, palms out, and then leaned against the wall.
“Don’t worry, I can keep you company out here,” he said before launching a horrific version of Gwen Stefani’s Hollaback Girl.
Saying he wouldn’t go away wasn’t entirely true. Eventually he would give up and disappear for even a few days a time. Macy had no idea where he went or what he did at those times, nor did she care. She only enjoyed the peace while it lasted. She knew it would be short lived because he always came back. For three months now, he came back.
The first time she saw him she didn’t even realize he was a ghost at first. He just appeared in front of her on the street while she was taking her morning jog. He looked at her and she looked at him. She nodded in the way that perfect strangers acknowledge each other on the street. But then, he spoke.
“You can see me,” he said.
Her thoughts at that point were, shit, shit and shit. Not only had he outright spoke to her, but she understood him clearly. His image wasn’t vague or see through like she usually saw. Hell, she usually didn’t even really “see” them. It was more like a feeling. But not this guy. He seemed as solid as any other person on the street. The idea freaked her out more than just a little bit. She tried to keep going as if she didn’t hear him, but he knew and it was too late. And if he had any doubts about it, they were set aside when he stepped in front of her and she stopped in her tracks to avoid barreling over him.
Forbidden Love Series Book 4: From The Ashes Page 1