Twenty-three year old Dimitri has to do what he is told—literally. Controlled by a paranormal bond, he is forced to use his wits to fulfill unlimited deadly wishes made by multimillionaire Karl Walker.
Dimitri has no idea how his family line became trapped in the genie bond. He just knows resisting has never ended well. When he meets Syd—assertive, sexy, intelligent Syd—he becomes determined to make her his own. Except Karl has ensured Dimitri can't tell anyone about the bond, and Syd isn't the type to tolerate secrets.
Then Karl starts sending him away on back-to-back wishes. Unable to balance love and lies, Dimitri sets out to uncover Karl's ultimate plan and put it to an end. But doing so forces him to confront the one wish he never saw coming—the wish that will destroy him.
A dark twist on the genie folklore, SUMMONED follows a reluctant criminal as he unravels the mystery of the paranormal bond controlling him.
Warnings: 18+, adult content, mature themes, strong language, and violence
I halt in the doorway, taking in Syd's body. Unbelievably,
she is back for round two. More unbelievably, I let the little crook into my
house again. I still have no idea what I would tell Karl about a hotel charge,
though. I will just have to keep an eye on her this time.
“You're
lying.” She turns to face me. “There's no downstairs. Is your mom that type who
shows up every week to do the cooking and cleaning?
“Can
you stop asking stupid questions?”
She
blows air through her teeth. “You suck.”
“Oh, be
quiet.” I bat my hair out of my eyes.
“Want some wine?”
She
drops her purse on the floor next to my bed. “That's more like it.”
“Red or
white?”
“Didn't
realize I was in the presence of Dionysus.” She perches on the edge of the
mattress. “Red, please.”
I
consider skipping the drinks altogether and just taking her right there. So
many beautiful things await under those clothes, ready to be explored all over
again.
Instead,
I turn around and cross the house to the kitchen. A half bottle of Malbec waits
in the fridge. I pour a glass, think better of it, and pour one for myself too.
Then I return to the bedroom.
She has
her shoes off, sitting cross-legged on the bed, but hasn't removed anything
else. Thankfully. That's part of the fun.
I knock
the door shut with my foot and hand her a glass.
She
sips her wine, looking oddly sophisticated for someone with Ozzy Osbourne eye
makeup and enough silver in her ears to take down a werewolf.
She
peers up at me. “Is it a celebrity?”
I stare
at her, dumbly.
“The person you protect, is it a celebrity?” Her eyes
light up. “Oh! Is it Stevie Nicks?”
“What?
No.”
“Linda
Ronstadt?”
“No.”
She
bounces a little on the mattress. “Is it Jenna Jameson?”
“Good
god, Syd.” I move forward and take her glass, then place it with mine on the
nightstand.
She
says, “You didn't drink any of your wine. Did you—”
Rainy Kaye is an aspiring overlord. In the meantime, she blogs at Rainy of the Dark and writes paranormal novels from her lair somewhere in Phoenix, Arizona. When not plotting world domination she enjoys getting lost around the globe, studying music so she can sing along with symphonic metal bands, and becoming distracted by Twitter. She is represented by Rossano Trentin of TZLA.
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