Page 101 of Summoned
“Did you really think I’d get my fill of you so easily, my baroness?” His thumb traces a path down my spine, then continues lower. I bite my lip when he pauses between my cheeks and draws a slow circle.
I shudder all the way to my fingertips.
32
Gaetano
Iwake up on the floor. The cold stone seeps through the blanket, despite the gentle crackling of the fireplace I conjured before we fell asleep. My muscles ache with exhaustion and excess. My blood flows in peace, without that usual cocktail of boredom and anxiety that pulses through me after each act of pleasure.
I reach out for her. My proof that yesterday wasn’t just an illusion. But my fingers close on nothing but air.
I jolt upright and there she is, standing by the window. Heels on, already in her blue dress, watching the courtyard.
My heart stills.Shit.
I rise at once, conjuring clothes over my naked body to cover the runes. I don’t want to remind her any more of what I am. I rush to her, my instinct screaming it’s already too late.
“Nicole…”
She doesn’t reply. Her face is frozen into a marble mask, reminding me of a doll stripped of all emotion. I recognize that vacant expression. It shows up when someone feels a fear so overwhelming that they no longer know how to show it.
I glance out the window, hoping she saw something different. But… no. It’s there.
The graveyard.
Two hundred eighty-nine graves, each marked by a stone cross, lined up in neat rows. No names, only numbers. And ten freshly dug holes with open coffins, waiting for the newharvests. One of them is meant for her.
“Nicole, say something.” I grip her elbow.
She stiffens, pale as parchment, and that terrifies me more than if she had screamed or cried.
You’re a witcher, my consciousness hisses.That’s the real you. What the hell did you think would happen when you stripped away the illusions?
Finally, she parts her lips.“If I counted right… There are two hundred eighty-nine filled graves out there. Not a single one left open. At least… not until the two hundred and ninetieth.”
My whole being quakes at the thought thatthatgrave—number two hundred and ninety—is waiting for her. Her, and no one else. A lump forms in my throat, almost choking me. “It’s true.”
She faces me, her voice eerily calm. “You’ve never… lost to aharvestbefore?”
From the window behind her, the graveyard seems to observe us. Once again, I realize how radiant Nicole is against the backdrop of my world. The air between us stretches, every second of silence pressing down. I won’t lie to her.
“Never,” I say.
Her throat moves as she swallows the truth. I’m sure she already suspects what it means. “Can you even be defeated in the game, Gaetano?”
My voice is hoarse and low, but without the faintest crack of hesitation. “I can’t be defeated. I create the game, and never allow for any loopholes.”
“So, the two trials I won…Did youletme win?”
“I did.”
The emptiness in her expression fractures. Her features contort with anguish, and her shoulders shake.
I reach for her, but she recoils. “Don’t touch me!” Her voice reverberates through the darkened walls, crawling up my spine and sinking straight into my heart. A crushing weight presses on my chest.
Her eyes overflow with tears. “Why did you do it? Why did you make me believe in myself, stand up to my father, when you knew my life would endanywayin just a few days?”
Blood pulses in my veins, thrumming with fear:this is the end of something real.
