Summoned - Week
Blitz
By Rainy
Kaye
Paranormal
Romance
Date Published:
3/28/2014
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.
Summoned is represented by Rossano Trentin of
TZLA.
EXCERPT
I dislike having to murder someone. Kidnapping is worse. At
least when I setup a kill, I know what's coming. No connections, no honesty, no
surprises. Everything I say and do are just steps to luring in my victim. Once
the victim falls right into the trap, the next move is swift: crushed windpipe,
fatal concussion, or a good ol' fashioned headshot.
Kidnapping, on the other hand, is a little trickier. First, the victim has an
opportunity to respond. I don't like this. Sometimes they cry. Sometimes they
manage to alert the authorities. And sometimes they escape, usually by
inflicting bodily harm on me.
Dead people don't retaliate. Kidnapped ones, well, they're a little more . . .
lively.
The second major difference between killing and kidnapping is my conscience. I
get in and out with a kill. We have no chance to bond.
Abductees require a little more one-on-one. As much as I try to keep the switch
turned off, I can't help but listen to their pleas and demands. And I usually
realize I'm a jerk.
That's exactly where I find myself one late afternoon in June. I prefer doing
this at night, but moreover, I would prefer not doing this at
all.
Instead, I have a belligerent nine year old girl sitting in the passenger seat
of my Honda Accord, shackles on her wrists and ankles and a small stuffed bunny
on her lap. She's eying me in a way that makes me self-conscious. Like I'm the
bad guy.
Probably because I am the bad guy.
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