The Summoner

by Alisha Steele

Genres: Paranormal Romance

Synopsis

The enemy may be his only hope. . .

Fallen angel Kasdeya hates all mortals. They're little more than playthings, as far as he's concerned. But when he finds himself facing a thousand-year prison sentence, he has no choice but to call on the one woman who might set him free: the Summoner.

His plan is simple. . .seduce her for his own purposes, then throw her away. If only she weren't so argumentative, so intelligent. If only she weren't so damned sexy!

77,141 Words

Release date: September 21, 2009

Publisher: Lyrical Press

Print pages: 273

Sample

 

Chapter 1

 

Alex sat at her vanity, brushing her long toffee-brown hair. One hundred strokes. Every night. Religiously. It didn’t matter that they’d proven it wasn’t at all beneficial and that it, in fact, caused breakage. It was a habit, and Alex Brannigan was nothing if not a slave to her habits.

She’d already washed her face and gotten into her favorite nightie, a short white one with La Nightshirt in big black text across the front. It was so ancient that the fabric was practically see-through at her shoulders and across the top of her modest, B-cup breasts. And didn’t that make her feel older than dirt. She’d dated guys who were younger than her sleep apparel.

“Yep, gettin’ old,” Alex grumbled, leaning in to examine her “not quite” wrinkles in the mirror. She scrunched up her face and pursed her full lips to see the lines more clearly. Nope, not quite wrinkles. Not yet…but soon. Wannabes, that’s what they were. Wannabe wrinkles.

She put down the brush and reached for the new night cream she’d picked up that afternoon. It was guaranteed to make her skin look as dewy and fresh as a sixteen-year-old’s. After all, it had elasticin, whatever that was, and vitamin C! Alex snorted. That was probably twenty bucks well wasted. But hell, with her thirtieth birthday only three years away, she was more than willing to part with a little money in an honest search for the fountain of youth.

She was wrestling with the anti-tamper seal that cosmetics manufacturers think is funny to Krazy Glue to the top of their products when the bathroom lights did that dimming thing, the one the lights always seemed to do right before the power cut out completely.

“Shit!” she hissed, real panic tingeing her voice. “God-damned house!”

Alex lived in an historic Queen Anne two-story complete with a turret room, two unnecessary balconies and abundant stained glass windows. It was lovely, a true pleasure to own—when the power and plumbing were actually working.

“Please, please, please!” She leaped up from the low brass stool, but forgot that she had her left ankle hooked through the stool’s support bracket. Rather than the mad dash out the door she’d been trying to accomplish, all she managed to do was land face-first on the floor. The lights gave another feeble flicker before the room plunged into darkness.

Alex moaned in terror as the familiar, sibilant voices swelled to life.

“Aaalexxx…”

“Alexaaandraaa…”

“Hear me, Summoner…”

All four walls of the bathroom—from waist height to the ceiling—were covered in mirrors. It was a feature that had almost dissuaded her from buying the place. Honestly, what was the look they were going for, Victoriana meets the Playboy Mansion? The fact that no one should have mirrored anything in a period home wasn’t the issue—it was the mirrors themselves. Or rather, what lurked inside them.

But Alex refused to live her life in fear. So she’d gone ahead with the purchase with plans to have the mirrors ripped out at the earliest possible opportunity. It was an opportunity that, unfortunately, hadn’t come yet. She wasn’t even finished unpacking; this was only her second week in the house.

Alex kicked her foot, shaking off the stool and sending it skittering across the tiles. Taking care to keep her head well below the white wainscoting, she scrambled on hands and knees toward the door. There was no moon out tonight and the room was completely black. On the one hand, she was grateful for that. It meant she couldn’t see the owners of those whispering voices beckoning to her from within the glass, the half-formed ghosts that always appeared to her in darkened mirrors. On the other hand, it also meant she misjudged where the exit was by a good foot and a half. Alex, with lowered head, slammed full tilt into the bathroom wall.

“Ahh, there’re the lights,” she mumbled as she crumpled into an undignified heap. Indeed there were lights now, pretty white and purple ones that danced playfully across her vision.

Alex laid her face against the deliciously cool floor and succumbed to unconsciousness.

* * * *

This dream again?

How fabulous.

Not.

Alex tentatively touched the egg-sized knot gracing her forehead. It hurt! People weren’t supposed to feel real pain in dreams. She knew that. But apparently she was an exception. Pain. Pleasure. Hot. Cold. Her subconscious faithfully rendered each sensation.

Her breath misted the already thickly fogged air around her, and she was still clad in just her short nightgown. Alex wrapped her arms around her torso, making a valiant attempt to ignore the chills racking her body, and took stock of her surroundings.

It had been almost ten years since she’d been treated to this particular nightmare. Alas, it looked like nothing much had changed. It was still a never-ending plain of murky darkness, and it still appeared to be full of vague bogeymen whose only motivation, so far as she could tell, was to torment her with their calls while staying just out of sight, hiding in the edge of her peripheral, helped in their shyness by the eternal gray, unrelenting fog.

And yes, it was still a scary, sucky place to find herself.

As if on cue, the voices started up again. The sounds were so much more chilling, so much closer, on this side of the glass.

“The Summoner…”

“She has come…”

“Alex…”

“Alexandr—”

Her name rose on a growling howl, only to abruptly cut off.

Alex whirled in place, trying to catch sight of her tormentors, but the mist was too dense. All she caught were hints of large, misshapen forms sliding inhumanly fast through the fog. Her skin was already goose-pebbled from the cold air but, nonetheless, it tried to tighten even further. Her hair did its best to lift straight off her body, as if it were planning to leave regardless of whether she was fool enough to stay.

From previous experience, Alex knew that trying to find a way out would be futile. There wasn’t one. And though she had always awoken after her regulation eight hours, often more tired than when she’d fallen asleep, while she was here time stood still. This was eternity, and she was trapped in it.

She twirled again when unseen hands stroked her back, only to lose her footing and stumble to her knees in the gray mud. Her admirer, as usual, was nowhere to be seen.

“Aaalexxx…”

“Shit!” Tears sprang to her eyes. She hated feeling alone and afraid. In her real life, she was always strong. People admired her for her calm manner, for her level-headedness in the face of any crises, for her guts. She couldn’t have run the Seattle chapter of Dovescot, a refuge for battered women, without her share of guts. Many was the time she’d chased a pissed-off Bubba from the front lawn of the sprawling women’s shelter with only a rifle and her own unswerving faith in her invincibility. Never mind that she was only five-two and weighed all of a hundred pounds; Alex knew she could take those wife-beaters down, and when they looked into her cold blue eyes, the bastards usually realized that they weren’t all that willing to test her resolve on the issue.

Yet here she was, crying in the mud. Well, she’d be damned if she’d give them the pleasure.

Alex had been having this dream since she was a child. Not every year. Not even every second or third year. Not often at all. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d been subjected to this hell, but the infrequency didn’t make the experience any less terrifying. The difference now, though, was that she wasn’t a child anymore.

“Alexandra…”

“What?” she shrieked. Mud squelched between her fingers as her hands clenched. “What? What the hell do you want?”

“Summoner…”

The whispering was driving her mad, but the voices weren’t answering. Again she was touched, on her head this time. Alex refused to acknowledge the phantom hand and, in a moment, it retreated. “Summoner,” they’d called her. Over and over.

Well, all right then.

“Come on, already!” she said. “Show yourselves. I… I summon you!”

* * * *

“And it’s about bloody time too.”

The fingers were back, smoothing over her hair, and this time they didn’t disappear.

Crap! That had definitely not been a well thought-out plan.

The tendons in Alex’s neck creaked as she turned her head to look up at the speaker. Her breath left her in a gasp. She scrambled out from underneath his palm, any dignity she still possessed quickly lost in her slipping, sliding retreat. “Jesus Christ!”

He smirked and crossed his magnificently muscled arms across his chest. “No, I’m afraid not, pet. I’ve never even met the man, though he and my brother have a passing acquaintance.”

When she finally regained her feet, Alex took stock of the creature standing at ease in front of her. The huge black wings were so distracting that it actually took her a moment to notice he was unclothed. Her gaze followed the sweep of feathers down to the earth in fascination, and it was only on the return journey that Alex realized the alabaster white of his skin was a naked expanse in front of those wings.

Her cheeks flamed and she rushed to bring her gaze to his face. At least, she tried to look up; her stare kept getting snared along the way. She’d never seen a man with elegant feet before! From there, her gaze naturally wandered up his strong, smooth legs. A thatch of black decorated their apex, surrounding his cock, which was half hard but lengthening quickly. The heft of it made her mouth water.

It took some strength of will but she managed, after a second or two, to look away. His pubic curls pointed a graceful arrow to the indent of his navel, lovingly framed by a perfectly formed…eight pack? Was that even possible? Up and up—he was so tall, easily six and a half feet—to his sharply defined pecs and the alluring shadows of his nipples: tiny, perfect dots of mauve peeking cheekily at her above his folded arms.

Her mouth watered again, and she had to swallow the flood of liquid to avoid drooling. The knife edge of his clavicle was swept by shimmering waves of hair the same sultry blue-black as his stunning wings. His throat was long and graceful, his jawline chiseled. Of course. His lips, when she finally got there, were wide, lush and curved up into the most egotistical grin she’d ever seen. Perfect teeth flashed behind them.

At the sight of that mocking smile, Alex’s gaze leaped the short distance to his eyes. She hardly noticed the ruler-straight line of his nose or the proud flare of his nostrils. A fan of black lashes, which would probably have looked more appropriate on a cow, outlined his midnight eyes. One thick, black brow winged up.

“Looked your fill yet?” His voice was deeper than the first time he’d spoken.

“Jesus,” she whispered again.

“No.” His wings unfurled to stir the air behind his shoulders. “Kasdeya.”

 

 

Chapter 2

 

“I had thought you would be younger, Summoner.” Kasdeya’s voice sounded harsh even to his own ears, but he was surprised, and not pleasantly so. The last time he’d spied her through the mists, which was only a few days before, she had seemed a child—something she certainly didn’t seem now.

The Summoner was prettily disheveled, with mud in her hair and on her face, but that wasn’t what he found so damned distracting. What was causing him problems was the way her clothing had turned clingy and see-through in the wet air. The way her small, dark nipples caught at the transparent fabric as they puckered in the cold. It had been a long time since he’d felt such searing, instant attraction. And he’d never before felt it for a human. How could he? They were less than nothing in the eyes of the Brethren. God’s cosmic joke. Kasdeya had spent the aeons since his plummet doing his best to wreak havoc among them, particularly the daughters of Eve. Thus, his reaction to her was inexplicable, and he was disgusted with himself.

It was highly unfortunate that his plan involved seducing the beautiful little nothing. That’s what he told himself—how unfortunate it was. If only he could convince his body he meant it. His traitorous prick had leaped to attention under the weight of her stare, eagerly awaiting the unfortunate event.

* * * *

His own perusal was much more perfunctory. A quick flick of his eyes up and down her body. If his gaze lingered anywhere, Alex didn’t see it.

Her cheeks, still reddened from the cataloguing of his assets, burned even hotter under his dismissive glance. She looked down at herself, eyes widening in dismay. Her feet, legs and stomach were covered in viscous gray sludge, which also coated the ends of her waist-length hair and was, by the feel of it, drying into a cakey mess on her face. She must have smudged some there when she’d swiped at her tears.

She straightened her shoulders and did her best to mimic his haughty pose. So she didn’t exactly look her best. That was no reason to start tossing insults around. “And I thought you’d be more.”

Kasdeya’s brows shot up at her comment. “More than I am?” His hand swept down his flawless body.

Alex’s lips tightened into a thin line. How she wished she could say yes, if only to wipe that smug look off his face. But no, that wasn’t what she’d meant, and how could he be expected to be more than perfect anyway?

“No,” she said, her voice strained. “I had expected there would be more of you when you finally deigned to show yourselves. There are dozens of voices that call to me.”

“Ah.” A dismissive shrug lifted his wings. “They won’t be bothering us.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“Others who have managed to offend.” His eyes narrowed. “Others who, most likely, do not deserve to be left in this purgatorial wasteland any more than I do. Prince Shaitan can sometimes be…overzealous in his reprimands.”

“Shaitan?” she repeated. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Kasdeya stepped closer and took her face between his palms. His fingers slid through her hair to cup the back of her skull while his thumbs stroked lightly along her jaw. “Why don’t we talk about it further at your home, Alexandra? Once there, I would be more than happy to explain anything you desire.”

Alex licked her lips nervously as she looked up into his beautiful face. “Gee, I’d love to go home, Kasdeya…”

His fingers distracted her as they kneaded the small muscles at the base of her neck, though in truth, that was the least of the distractions he represented. She brought her hands up to push him back and uttered a breathy little sigh—quite unlike her—at the feel of his silken white skin under her fingertips. As smooth as a baby’s bottom. With the thought, a giggle welled in her chest. She hastened to tamp it down, mortified by the way this creature seemed able to reduce her to a schoolgirl with her first crush. Kasdeya’s black eyes twinkled as if he could read her thoughts. The dark aura of danger and eroticism he exuded made it very difficult to concentrate. His magnificent midnight wings moved to enfold her.

“Step off, dark man,” she warned. “You’re too close.”

He leaned in farther until his face was only inches from hers. His hands slipped down her back to her waist. He didn’t seem to care if he got covered in mud. “You are the Summoner, woman. If you want to leave this plane, all you have to do is summon your own to you.” His breath washed her lips, the scent an odd, euphoric combination of cinnamon and roses. Alex’s eyes drifted shut as she inhaled the wonderful perfume.

“Summon my…” She shook her head, trying to clear it, and pushed at his chest more forcefully. This time he let her go. “Wait a minute. Are you telling me that all I’ve ever had to do to leave was click my ruby slippers together and wish myself home?”

His brow furrowed as he looked down at her feet. “Your feet are bare, Alexandra, so I do not believe slippers to be a necessary part of the ritual. But yes, essentially all you have ever had to do was wish yourself home.”

She rubbed at the lump on her forehead in irritation. “Well, fuck-diddly-uk, Flanders, that would have been some useful information to have about twenty years ago.”

* * * *

Kasdeya decided to ignore the uk-flanders reference, having no idea what she was talking about. He’d been many years away from the mortal plane and speech idioms had apparently progressed into strange new realms. The twenty-year reference was interesting though. He’d only been calling her to join him for a few weeks, and none of the lesser Brethren would have had the strength required to pull a mortal soul into their realm. The time difference between his plane and hers must be vast. All the more reason to hasten his seduction and convince her to set him free. A handful of days, at best, and she would be dead. And who knew when another Summoner might be born.

He again moved to take her in his arms but Alexandra was having none of it. She quick-stepped to the left. “Just stay back, dark man. I can’t think when you’re so close.”

His smile was sinful and, in a move too fast to follow, his arm whipped out and wrapped around her back, pulling her into his side. “Thinking is not necessary.” The fingers of his free hand trailed up the center of her body, from her belly button to her chin, angling her face to his. Alexandra’s half-formed words of protest were cut short as he lowered his mouth.

* * * *

His lips were firm and strong, and Kasdeya’s taste was as exotic as his scent—an entrancing mix of sugar and smoke, spice and honey. Alex opened her mouth for him before she even knew she intended to. His rough, catlike tongue surged inside, stroking aggressively along her palate and the back of her teeth before retreating. It taunted her with rapid, sexy flicks against her lips, first the top and then the bottom, and darted away mischievously when her own tongue tried to catch it.

With a muffled moan, Alex came up on her toes. Her hands twisted in his sleek mane, tugging his head closer. They were pressed so tight together that his rumble of amusement was felt more than heard as it vibrated through his torso. His lips under hers widened into an arrogant grin that she could picture all too well and, without even stopping to think about it, Alex took the bottom one between her teeth and bit.

Kasdeya sucked in a breath at the feel of her small, pearly teeth in his skin. He pulled back his head to glare down at her.

Alex was as shocked by her audacity as he was. Her own breath caught in her throat at his fierce expression and she instinctively tried to back out of his reach. His hand slid from her waist to her ass, splaying across the curve of it to keep her in place. His other hand moved to seize a handful of hair. He wrenched her head back. “Is this how you would prefer to play, pet?”

“I’m not your pet.” She wished her voice didn’t sound quite so shaky while she made her brave declaration.

“I beg to differ.”

His lips were bruising as they again slanted over her own, his tongue a violent intrusion between her lips. There was nothing gentle or playful about his kiss this time. It was intense, wicked and erotic. Fire licked up her spine to curl lovingly around the pain of his fist in her hair. Her nipples hardened to a stone-firm sharpness that Kasdeya surely felt against his torso. It was the trickle of liquid shivering down her inner thigh though that served to bring her to her senses. Her intense reaction to the winged man—no, let’s call a spade a spade here—to the demon, frightened her.

And he must be a demon, she figured, trying to convince her legs to propel her away from him, because God surely wasn’t punishing his elite by sentencing them to this wasteland. Anyway, Kasdeya didn’t seem to be the angelic type.

When his hand left her hair to test the firmness of her small, high breasts, Alex panicked. There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home… The vision of her body lying still and cold on the bathroom floor swam before her eyes. I summon you! she shrieked desperately in her mind. And, just like that, she was there.

* * * *

Kasdeya cursed as the girl dissolved in his arms. That had certainly not been in the plan. She was supposed to have taken him with her. He had already wasted more time than he would have liked calling her to him, and finally the Summoner had come. Finally she had uttered the words he required to show himself. He had been so damnably close to escaping! What in the nine hells had gone wrong?

 

 

Chapter 3

 

Kasdeya rested his forehead against the glass separating his world from hers. The muscles of his shoulders slowly unknotted as the Summoner woke.

“Oh God,” Alexandra groaned, clutching her head and levering herself onto her elbows. The early morning sun poured cheery streamers of light into the bathroom’s yellow and pink windows.

“Awake at last, pet? I had begun to worry.”

Begun to worry? He’d been half out of his mind with concern, watching anxiously over her motionless body as the hours ticked away. And, despite what he told himself, his concern was more than that of a captive for his freedom. The sight of her slight, still form spread across the sterile white floor had filled him with fear. She’d seemed so delicate. So fragile. So in need of someone strong to take care of her.

Kasdeya gave his head a sharp shake at his turn of thought. She may indeed need taking care of, but that wasn’t his job. At any rate, she seemed fine now. He eyed her coltish legs as she gathered them beneath her and stood swaying dizzily from side to side. Yes, she was very fine.

Alexandra cleared her throat several times. “What the hell are you doing in the mirror? It’s daylight out.”

Kasde. . .