Page 23 of Summoned
Up close, his skin is pale and smooth like marble, withfeatures unnaturally symmetrical and sharp. I try not to stare or think about the uncomfortable closeness of… a witcher.
“I didn’t sign anything. I pricked my finger because I believed I was summoning some joker to grant a wish. Without the part about three trials.”
The witcher smirks, and the parchment crumbles, dissolving into fine gray wisps. “Ignorance of the rules doesn’t free you from them,” he says, his tone cool, on the edge of boredom.
I square my shoulders. “Why are you after me, when it was both me and Daria? And actually… that’s her blood, not mine.”
He laughs. “Nice try. You both signed the contract. And don’t worry, she’s next.”
Next? I haven’t seen Daria in years and have no desire to. Still, I’m not sure I’m indifferent to her being dragged into this, too.
“But we were just children,” I whisper.
“Old enough to chant and bleed.”
Irritation flares up in my chest, and my teeth clench. “This is pure deception!”
He closes the gap between us in a single step and leans in, invading my personal space. It’s a challenge, daring me to recoil. I lift my chin, refusing to back off.
“I’m a trickster in every sense of the word, but for once, I didn’t twist the rules. You walked right into my game,” he murmurs, his voice silken, almost tender, and yet it sends a shiver of dread straight through me.
Don’t let him scare you. That’s what he wants. I cross my arms over my chest, creating a barrier between us, even though it holds no real power. I don’t move back an inch.
One corner of his mouth twitches into a half-smile. I hold my breath, determined not to give in to the crackling pressurein the air. My mind still struggles to accept that a witcher—the Black Joker—is in my bedroom, summoned by my own blood magic. But in the face of this craziness, I stick to my one unbreakable rule: never show weakness.
The moment stretches into eternity. My lungs grow uncomfortable from the intensity of his scent, and my muscles tighten with the sheer effort of standing my ground.
The door bursts open, and I turn, my stomach sinking when I see it’s my mother.
“Well, well! I was starting to think you no longer lived in this house!” she exclaims. Thanks to countless Botox injections, her facial muscles can’t show emotions, so I can’t tell if she’s being funny or genuinely irritated. “I’ve been trying to talk to you since your birthday, and every time I come to your room, you’re never here…”
I glance over my shoulder. He’s gone.
“I’m talking to you, Nicole.”
“Mom, I’ve got something urgent—”
“The only thing that needs to be urgent is your face. You have bags under your eyes, and your skin is dry. Do I really need to remind you that if you look like this at twenty-one, you’ll be an old crone by the time you’re thirty? Let’s just hope we’ve married you off by then.”
I let her words wash over me.
“On Saturday, the Deliberovs are hosting a grand ball at the InterContinental,” she says. “All the major players will be there. We’ll be attending, of course.The Deliberovs are planning to build the most luxurious spa center in the Balkans, and they’re about to assign the project to someone. Your father wants it.”
“Of course he does,” I mutter.
My mother rolls her eyes. “Make sure you’re presentable. The youngest Deliberov boy is back from abroad and, rumorhas it, he’s searching for a wife.”
Fury explodes in my chest like a bomb. “Does the rumor also say he’s been sleeping with that male TV host?”
“Nicole!”
“Fine, Mother. I’ll go to the ball.” Anything to get rid of her.
“Good. And wear the black Calvin Klein dress. The long one. With the modest neckline. Old Mr. Deliberov is conservative. I don’t want him dismissing you as a potential daughter-in-law because you dress like a tramp.” She huffs, striding away.
My upper lip curls, but I bite back a retort. Better to say nothing than to give her a reason to linger. I’ve never been “a tramp.” But how would she know? She hasn’t spoken to me properly since I was in fifth grade, around the time my dad realized what a miserable woman he’d married and started ignoring her altogether.
Sometimes I wonder if she envied the way he focused on me. Maybe she never noticed the weight of it. The constant demands. Always an A. The great ambitions. And she assumes I need a reminder to behave. As if I’ve ever disgraced this family in public. My reaction to her is so visceral, I forget about the witcher and his damned contract.
