Page 59 of Summoned
I frown, stumped by the change in subject. “I have no idea who that is, Nicole.”
“Angelina! The girl who gave me the summoning spell. She vanished on her twenty-first birthday a few months ago. Lived in Siena. Her family’s still searching for her.”
Names tend to fade, but cities often linger. Siena rises in my mind—sunlight like golden syrup spilling over the red brick of the Piazza del Campo, the scent of strong espresso wafting from tucked-away cafés. A dark-haired woman with blue eyes darts between buildings.It’s either me or them, I repeat to myself as I chase her. I could teleport. I don’t. There’s no need. Her defeat is inevitable. In the end, I had to claim her soul earlier. Her mind couldn’t cope with my existence, let alone answer the first riddle.
“Ah. You mean one of my previousharvests.”
“She had a name!” Nicole’s words echo through the tall trees.
“I make an effort not to remember names.” It’s far simpler to count numbers than to recite a list of names.
Nicole’s energy shifts in an instant. The trembling threads of fear fade away, and invisible flames flare around her. “And mine? Will you forget that, too?”
When a person lives long enough, faces fade as easily as names and memories. But in the time that remains to me, hers will not slip away. “I doubt it,” I say.
Nicole clutches her bag. “I imagine you told Angelina the same thing. Just before you took her soul and cast her into oblivion.”
The fire still burns within her, but her voice falters. Is it jealousy or fear? Maybe both.
“I barely exchanged a word with Angelina beyond the formalities of our pact.”
Nicole squares her shoulder, her grip on the bag loosening a bit. “Why? Isn’t verbal manipulation part of your game?”
“Only when I’m faced with a truly exhilarating challenge. She was not one of them. The very first spell fractured her mind. I prefer not to waste time on those incapable of recognizing my brilliance.”
A brief laugh escapes her lips. “You think I appreciate it?”
“I believe you enjoy provoking me into giving you my best.”
My thumb glides under her chin, lifting it with a touch that’s both gentle and insistent. She takes a breath and clutches her handbag as if it’s a lifeline. For a moment, she seems unsure how to handle me. I could close the distance in a blink. I want to. But the joker in me urges restraint. I dare her to make the first move. I will make all the others.
A subtle vibration, followed by the trill of a modern ringtone, draws our attention to her handbag. Nicole’s gaze fixes on the sleek black leather, though she doesn’t attempt to retrieve the device.
“Aren’t you going to take it?” I ask. She shakes her head, prompting my frown to deepen. “Please, don’t ignore your calls on my account,” I add, irked by this odd restraint. The Baroness I know would have taken the call right in front of me, if only to demonstrate how unbothered she is by my presence.
Finally, she reaches into her bag and pulls out her phone without taking her eyes off me. “Yes, Mom,” she says, bringing it to her ear.
My hearing is sharp enough to catch every word filteringthrough the receiver, though the conversation itself holds little appeal. What draws me far more is Nicole—how tension etches across her jawline, how her lips press into a taut line, how the color in her irises deepens.
Then a sudden change. Her posture stiffens. Once the call ends, her focus drops to her bag, but she doesn’t put the phone away. When she raises her head at me again, her expression resembles that of a startled doe.
I suppress the urge to growl. I don’t enjoy drawing out her fear this way—not to such an extent.
“Deliberov died in the hospital,” she says.
“Was he someone close to you?”
She clears her throat. “The host of that gala. A business partner of my father’s…” Her lower lip begins to tremble. That unfamiliar protective instinct stirs in my chest once again. “He had a heart attack. Right after your stunt with the frozen statues. Was it your magic that killed him?”
I slip my hands into my pants pockets. “It’s possible.”
“Yes or no?”
“Magic is potent energy, Nicole. Occasionally, the weak of heart fail to withstand its presence.”
She digests my words with a pained look. I move to close the gap between us, and this time, she allows it. I pull her in, resting my chin atop her head. The sweet scent of floral perfume rises from her hair, and I imagine burying my face in those fiery strands as I take her, her moans of pleasure echoing in my ears.
That craving intertwines with another, morehumanneed. She feels so small, so defenseless in my arms, far from the polished façade of the Little Baroness she presents to the world. And for once—forright now—I wish to offer her comfort.
