Page 20 of Summoned
Her expression falters, and the brightness dims, as if she just changed her mind. “I used to, yeah. But between architecture and everything else, I don’t think I’ll ever get back to it. It’s one of those dreams that sound nice in theory, but you never really make time for them.”
Oh, tell me about it, Baroness. But don’t worry. Unfulfilled dreams won’t be your problem for much longer. And thanks to you, they won’t be mine, either.
Mr. Porn Star takes a sip of his wine and veers theconversation elsewhere. “You know, when I saw you in the VIP section that night, I couldn’t stop staring.”
“Oh?” She blinks.
He runs a hand along his jaw. “I mean it. I physically couldn’t look away.”
“Why?” she teases, fingers running through her hair. “Was something wrong with me?” There it is—that fire again, rising behind the warm hue of her irises.
“Because I didn’t believe I’d ever stand a chance with you.”
I don’t need to check under the table. Her legs are jelly.
For a brief moment, I consider showing some mercy and letting the little flirt enjoy one last bit of fun before I set her world on fire.
See? I’m not completely heartless.
So I stay tucked away in my invisible corner and allow the horny bunnies to finish their evening. And if their porn is worth the hype… I might even watch. Like I said, entertainment at the castle is limited.
* * *
I’d assumed the evening couldn’t grow any duller, but the Baroness and her porn amateur are about to prove me wrong. I granted them the freedom to indulge in one another, and they’re acting like prudish schoolchildren. After that bold little conversation, I expected them to sneak off somewhere or at least exchange some dirty talk. Instead, it’s all architecture and bullshit. Very well. If they won’t take advantage of my generosity, then I’ll take advantage of them.
Time to stir the shadows.
I focus on the Baroness’ phone, a silent sentry on the table. The screen glows, but the notification is ignored. She’s tooengrossed in her companion’s neatly packaged story about a failed tennis career.
Music starts playing from the phone. A dark tone that pulls their focus to the device. It’s almost a growl. Low notes swelling in intensity.
She stares at the screen for a beat, then swipes the melody away. “I’ve no idea how YouTube opened, and I’ve never heard—”
Her thumb pauses on the display. At last, she’s seen the message.
Thinking about my riddle, Baroness?
Her body freezes, and her fingers twitch above the screen.
“Something wrong?” her companion asks.
Her lips tighten into a pale, thin line.“I…”
The next message begins to write itself on the screen, letter by letter.
At times, I’m all you wish to see
Her hand flinches, but she doesn’t move.
At times, I’m what you wish to flee
Her pupils track the words. Her fingers are bloodless with the grip she’s keeping on the phone.
But I’m mere shape, no true possession,
An entity formed at your discretion.
She holds her breath until the final line appears.
