Page 83 of Summoned
Her eyes widen for a split second, but quickly regain their usual expressionofself-control. Or so she’d have me think. Her hands betray her—the way her fingers trace the fabric of her dress, as though trying to ground herself.
That’s when it hits me. Tonight, I wasn’t just trying to recreate one of my impossible dreams. I wasn’t sneaking kindness between threats to see where she’d crack.
I was hoping to feel like the kind of man who could seduce a woman with romance and intimate talk. Without stirring up emotions that lie somewhere between desire andfear.Without reaching extremes.
Well. That didn’t work.
“Good night, Baroness.” I flick my hand through the air, dissolving the illusion.
Nicole finds herself once again standing on the street in front of the house where I took her from.
And I… return to the walls of my prison.
For years now, a ravenous urge has lived inside me—some monster I keep promising to feed.
One soul at a time.
Until I reach three hundred.
Tonight, that promise isn’t enough to tame it. It thrashes in my chest, starved, as if it’s never devoured a single soul. Tonight, it feels more tethered to the past than the future, crushed beneath the weight of Madeline’s magic, her presence thicker than it’s been in five centuries.
I scan the realm, inspecting the wards for a breach. Then I pace the castle, checking its wards for any faults. Nothing.
26
Gaetano
Day 12
My new obsession’s name is Nicole.
I don’t know what else to call this urge to keep stalking her, even after our last encounter. Over the past few hours, I’vebeen watching her from the shadows, tracking her every move, imagining what it would be like to make her submit in my hands.
Today, she’s doing something that mesmerizes me just as much as the tiny expressions playing across her face while she does it. She’s drawing, curled up in her desk chair,wearing soft shorts and an oversized T-shirt, with one leg tucked under her, her hair tied in a messy ponytail. My mark on her forehead, now decorated with sparkling crystals, makes her eyes shine even brighter.
When she leans back to examine her work, I take the opportunity to do so as well. A sense of recognition flickers beneath my ribs. It’s a wolf, facing forward. Black strokes shape its face and vibrant eyes that glimmer with life. She’s invested time in every line, yet the drawing doesn’t feel finished. Certain edges blur, like the creature is caught in motion, ready to leap off the page at any moment. That only makes it more haunting.
Maybe it’s the hunger that never fades—the need to chase, tear, and survive—the reason I’ve always felt a kinship with wolves. Back in Madeline’s coven, we moved like a pack, with her as the alpha and the rest falling in line as obedient betas. But I never truly belonged in line, and she knew it.
This wolf…The Little Baroness has really captured the beauty of the beast. It’s easy for me to appreciate her artistic talent. I grew up with a father who built a trade by bewitching people with what he could conjure onto canvas. Nicole has done exactly that, without the help of magic.
She’s about to pick up her pencil again when someone knocks on the door. “Nicole?”
That bitter feeling slithers through me at the sound of her father’s voice.
She straightens in her chair. Before she invites him in, the door swings open, and he steps inside in his expensive suit. No tie, mussed hair, dark circles under his eyes. He scans the room as if he’s conducting an inspection. Then he speaks, without pleasantries, “Just wanted to let you know: the dinner with Daniel is still on. They confirmed for tomorrow evening. I’ll give you some time alone. No formalities. I don’t want you to feel like a hostage. Just be kind. Smart. Mature.”
Finally, his attention settles on Nicole and my letter on her forehead. I expect him to comment on it, but instead, his gaze narrows on the paper. “You’re drawing?”
Her fingers tighten around the pencil. “I needed a distraction…”
He steps further into the room, eyebrows knit together. “I thought that phase was over.” He takes in her sketch and scoffs. “Nicole… You’ve got so many responsibilities. And you’re wasting time onthis? Doodles? Little animals?”
Heat flares in her cheeks. Her jaw clenches, and the corners of her mouth twitch, like she’s fighting to hold back words that would only make things worse. “It’s not—”
“You know what I want from you? I want you touseyour time wisely. Be on site. Talk to people. Learn real architectural processes. Don’t stay in your room sketching!”
She presses her lips together.
