Gargoyle Addiction

By Livia Olteano

Summonari don’t trust. Under their command, they summon any number of creatures from the Otherwolds—but never trust them outside of the summoning.
Gargoyles don’t love. Fierce descendants of dragons, they function on power and fear—never love.

Karla isn’t the happily-ever-after type of girl. No territory-hungry guy is going to stick flags all over her unclaimed grounds.
Kann’s world is death and betrayal. As Dar Primus of Haus Varis, he’s expected to follow tradition but he’s not your regular gargoyle. In fact, he’s anything but.

One fateful Friday night, Otherworlds collide. Stuck together in one world or another, Karla and Kann face everything from Awakenings and turbulent love to Festnavals and bloodthirsty scorned suitors.
If there’s one thing they can’t escape, it’s the addiction to each other. And they’ve got it bad.

(Edited by Lea Ellen Borg)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Livia Olteano
• Release date: Jul 12, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301585748

Livia Olteano

Livia lives in Europe where she listens to obscene amounts of music and devours every reading material in sight. When she’s not doing either of the two, she fiddles with anything remotely customizable within reach.

Book preview

GARGOYLE ADDICTION

(Otherworlds Summons #1)

by Livia Olteano

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Any trademarks mentioned herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored by or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks used are specifically in a descriptive capacity.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form (electronic or print) without permission from the author. Please do not participate in piracy or violating the author’s rights.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover Design: Livia Olteano

Edited by: Lea Ellen Borg

Copyright © July 2013 Livia Olteano

 Smashwords Edition

Also by Livia Olteano

OTHERWORLDS SUMMONS SERIES

Gargoyle Addiction

Dragon Craving

Gargoyle Guardian (coming autumn 2014)

SINGLE TITLES

Blitzkrieg Love

DEDICATION

Thank you Michelle, Ali, Tina, and Jessica–my awesomesauce beta readers. A special thank you to my epic parents, and my dear Beck–your support means more than words can express. Thank you lots and lots Lea Ellen for your amazing work! :)

And thank you, reader made of awesome, for choosing to spend time with Karla and Kann.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

Every book in this series has a Glossary added at the end for your convenience.

After reading this or any of my other works, please consider sharing your thoughts, anywhere and everywhere. :)

And if you'd like to know about future releases, subscribe to my author Newsletter of doom.

Hope you'll enjoy the read!

XoXo,

Livia

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Glossary

About the Author

Chapter 1

Karla

Karla?

My vision swam and I giggled. My eardrums pounded worse than the music. A sea of bodies squirmed around. A wow opening night for G’s club, that much was clear. My vision though…not so much.

I sighed. Okay, I think I’m about ready to head home. I’ll embarrass myself and trip all over these death contraptions you insist on calling shoes.

Oh shut up, Karla, you’re seriously hot in heels.

Sweet as that might have been, Mike wasn’t exactly my target audience.

Sucking up to me doesn’t take away from the pain in my feet. I really need to say goodbye to G before I pass out all over his fancy VIP booth.

Mike snickered. "I don’t know…remember what happened with his other club after you fell asleep on his couch? You drooled all over the thing, but I mean, the place was a hit…"

I punched his arm and swayed on my feet. Okay, sudden movement—not such a good idea.

You’re drunker than I thought you were… Mike muttered as he steered my fabulously frowning self through wiggling bodies.

Uhm, well, that last cocktail wasn’t my bright idea.

He shrugged and dragged me to shore, so to speak. Whoa, the place was packed! G was hanging around with a very, very bosomy blonde. It may have been my own relative lack in the department but those things were intimidating, sort of scary actually. They looked rock-hard, almost malicious, pointing belligerently toward the sky. Maybe they were fond of a particular constellation? I’d need a belligerent-boobs specialist on that.

George watched me like a hawk, something he’d been doing ever since I’d hit puberty. With some effort, my eyes tore away from the scary twin warriors on his date’s chest.

G’s brows furrowed. Going home already, kids?

Jerk. I stuck out my tongue and scowled—in a mature way, of course. It made him smile with something more than simple amusement. Ah, no amount of money was too much to have that memory erased by next morning. Being tipsy would help me get away with it. Somewhat.

Mike spoke up, my usual hero. "Well, Georgie, the club looks like a hit, huh?"

"Yes, Mikey, it does," his brother sneered.

They gave each other the famous Spalding death glare, a scary weapon they sometimes used on others but mostly one against the other. The almost palpable proof of their ‘brotherly love’ was as warm as gnawing bones. My giggle drew George’s attention back.

The blonde was staring knives, so I smiled blindingly out of a pure desire to spite her. A pair of war-cannon-boobs wouldn’t intimidate me, no matter how belligerent they looked. Her overly swollen lips twitched into something quite hard to understand. I frowned, studying the strange spasm thing going on. George snickered.

You need to get her home, Mikey. Unless you’d like me to give you a ride, Karla?

Oh yes, the war-cannon-breasted blonde would’ve loooved that.

It’s Mike’s fault, so it’s his responsibility. I think he put something in my drink, no doubt planning to have his way with me when he gets me home.

All three of us snickered, something of an inside joke that the blonde didn’t get. Hopefully she didn’t get how nervous my laugh was either. G’s eyes were signaling trouble. Time to bolt, and I was amazing at bolting if nothing else.

Okay, bye, G. Congratulations on the grand opening.

The kisses on both his cheeks held more affection than I would’ve normally displayed—all Mike’s fault for those extra cocktails. G’s arm snuck around my middle and lingered a little longer than necessary. His lips brushed against my ear and I almost quivered with the surprise of it. Maybe with something else too, but I wasn’t nearly drunk enough to ponder on that.

It’s a pleasure seeing you, Karla. Always has been.

Was the club getting hot? My skin got clammy.

Thanks, G. Good to see you too.

Mike gently peeled me off of his brother, his smile never wavering, and we finally made it into a cab. The chill of night air helped some but my head was still foggy. The full moon fascinated me as it hovered there in the night. It had that pinkish hue, looking like an impossibly large ball of cotton candy. Reaching for the glass of the car window seemed a sure way to touch the dusty surface of the large sky-dweller.

Karla?

Mike’s voice woke me from my reverie. I cuddled close to him on the cab’s backseat, suddenly feeling cold. His hand rose to play through my hair with lazy motions.

Happy birthday, sweetheart.

A wet, sloppy and obnoxiously loud kiss pressed into my forehead and steel arms held me prisoner. I squeaked in an attempt to squirm away.

Did you orchestrate this whole thing just to get me drunk, and slyly creep that up on me, in my moment of weakness?

He didn’t let go and trying to pull away seemed pointless after a while.

Mike?

He sighed. Yeah?

Thank you.

I blamed my sudden burst of emotion and the tremble in my voice on the liberal amounts of alcohol consumed during the night. He patted my arm as I pulled away a bit and settled my head on his shoulder. I couldn’t keep my eyes away from the full, rich moon. It made my thoughts buzz with something strange, intense and new.

He still carries a torch, you know.

Hm?

George. He still carries a torch. His eyes take that wild glow when you’re around.

A sigh crawled out of my chest. Maybe it’s a virus or some STD. I hear they can get your eyes pretty glow-y, you know?

You’re impossible sometimes.

Oh, Mike, you’re sweet to think I’m that charming. I’m sure the glow was all about his war-cannon-boobed date, though.

He laughed. Truth was, things between George and me were slightly off. They’d been so ever since I was eighteen and he had a crush on me the size of, well, the moon. Of course, at the time, I had a crush on Mike. He was the best friend though, his generous affection unwavering but brotherly. It all became clearer when Mike had his first real crush—Tommy Hobbs. Win some, lose some.

In my disorientation, I’d gone out with G a few times. He was a cool guy, sure, a looker too—in that regard very much like his brother. But he was also suffocating, stomping all over my personal space and making claims like I was some virgin territory and he was the explorer sticking bold flags all over new grounds. I’d wiggled out of dating him, but he never really got over the desire to flag my territory. There was a sturdy part of me that recoiled from the hunger in his eyes. I just had no way of saying that to his brother.

I think he’d be good for you if you’d give him a chance, Mike said.

You’d think years of saying ‘No, thanks!’ would get the point through. Sigh. I couldn’t do anything more than light, casual dating. G had territory-hungry eyes. He was itching to build himself a colony, expand and multiply on my grounds. It sent chills down my spine. Hell no, I couldn’t do anything but light and casual.

I wasn’t the happily-ever-after girl; I’d known that for a good while. Becoming the adorable housewife or the poster girl for mommy of the month would be someone else’s job, never mine. Considering my family history, I’d most likely die before age thirty-five. I couldn’t have kids thanks to a stupid accident from when I was ten. Sure, men drooled to flag my territory first thing when we met, it was their thing. Mike thought it had to do with my responsible aura and good karma, but my karma sucked if you asked me. I was false advertisement: my grounds were barren and the structures would implode in a couple years. Best-case scenario, the guy would fall for me…and I’d be crushed to give him the ‘good’ news. Worst-case scenario, I’d fall for him and he’d leave well before that particular confession point. Either way, it wasn’t looking like much of a plan.

I shook my head. You know, if you’re that desperate to find him a date we can always put up some ad or something. They have places online for that, too. Plus I’d hate to see how that blonde’s lips would twitch at the news you were trying to hook me up with her sugar daddy.

"Karla…I just want you to be happy. And I would be happy to know my knucklehead of a brother has someone like you to go home to."

My eyes fixed on the moon. "I am happy with things as they are. You’re my best friend and I love you—you know that. But just because you found the perfect guy for you doesn’t mean you’re on this sacred mission to pair off everyone you know."

He snorted, obviously unimpressed with my deflecting skills. Well I just had to bring in the big guns, then.

Is Joseph coming home tonight?

It was a sly counter-attack. Joseph—my boss and his lover—was a renowned workaholic. He was the epic in the all-stars hall of workaholic-ness. I knew—I was Joseph’s personal assistant after all. The man was the type who forgot to eat if you didn’t pester him with breakfast, lunch and dinner. Since my personal leave was starting Monday, I wondered if he’d die of starvation.

"He said he’d be home sometime tonight… Mike muttered. Oh, sweetheart, I almost forgot…"

After squirming around he produced a present. It had a pink shiny wrapping with obscene amounts of white ribbon clinging to every possible inch. Nothing screamed ‘24’ like a pink-wrapping-oceans-of-white-ribbons present. My eyes watered anyway, and I hug-attacked my friend trying to crush the breath out of him. It would’ve been a hard trick to pull off, what with the impressive shape he was in and my lack thereof—but what were friends for if not to give it a shot anyway? As soon as the cabbie pulled over, I fled the scene.

I squeezed the present to my chest tightly, crushing the lush white ribbons. Mr. Andrews, my neighbor, was walking his poodle, Harry. He smiled in greeting and eyed the present clutched in my arms. It was time for the ninja moves to get inside my house. I nodded back and rushed in, closing the door behind. The amazing-vanishing-woman trick was odd but justified. That whole birthday discussion wasn’t an option.

My house was eerily quiet. I’d inherited it from my mom, and once I became an adult, I chose to move in. It seemed magical, with silver light sprinkled with pinkish hues spilling all over the floor. I walked up to my bedroom unceremoniously discarding the shoes on random stairs. There was no one but me to trip over them in the morning, and hopefully I’d remember they were there and avoid major injuries. Though it would’ve made sense to get injured on my first free day. I’d been planning for this leave of absence from work for a while. This month, days around my birthday…weren’t good. And it got worse with every passing year.

I brushed my fingertips over each one of my family pictures on the way up the stairs. Mom’s glowing face greeted me and Aunty Shell’s mischievous stare made me smile. Grandma Sally’s stern expression contrasted her daughters. My aunt and mom were non-identical twins, but their resemblance was almost shocking regardless. They’d all lived more or less the same number of summers, but looking at them, grandma seemed to have counted more falls than the rest. I had her frosty disposition, or at least my aunt used to say so. Aunty Shell’s favorite stories about grandma always had the same punchline: her mom was a strict stickler for rules. My grandpa had been a soldier and died in combat. Having two girls to bring up on your own must have been difficult. Unfortunately, my grandma didn’t do that for long.

We all shared the same white complexion, though I rocked it more in shades of gray, same black eyes and weird burgundy-coppery hair—a color you didn’t even find in tubes. They’d stopped counting summers or falls for quite some time. I hurried to my room hoping to outrun tears that had been chasing me around since morning.

The window allowed moody moonlight to crowd the middle of the floor. I shook off the skimpy dress (Mike’s doing again) and went into the shower to dispel the alcoholic fog. I’d hated my birthday ever since I was a kid. Ever since I had to move in with Buddy and Aunt Shell the year my mom died—and twice as much ever since two years later Aunty Shell died too. Buddy and I hadn’t ‘bonded’ at all, but he was more mother hen than anyone else’s moms. Having Mike and George close in the neighborhood was the only escape from the silent awkwardness of my uncle’s home.

After growing up, I hated my birthdays for another reason. All the women in my family as far back as I knew died around the same age. Each birthday brought me closer to that terminus point of dread: grandma had an accident at 34, mom died of an aneurysm at 33, and two years after that, Aunty Shell died of a stroke. Apparently, death ran in the family. Buddy became obsessed with my health and the possibility I’d never see 35 either.

I was close to signing off once, back when mom was alive. I was just a kid. Our next-door neighbor’s car crashed into a wall with my neighbor, her daughter and me in it. I was the only one who survived. I still remember my friend’s lifeless face. She was wearing a beautiful white jacket. It was streaked with blood after we crashed. I stared at it as I waited for help that day. I remembered it sometimes, that pristine white jacket smeared with blood. It was probably luck I didn’t keel over in the accident, though it took something in return for sparing my life. The scars on my lower tummy were a constant reminder of all I’d already lost. I would never have kids. That was my secret, something I buried deep inside myself and ignored with grand-master skill. Memory lane needed to be shaken off, it wasn’t a good road to travel.

Mike’s present rested on the bed. The white ribbons dared to be ignored. The size and rectangle shape of the present gave me a pleasant tingling sensation but I refused to get overly excited. Okay, maybe I got a little excited. After a vicious attack, the pink wrapping fell away in bits and pieces. The shiny cover of a book tickled my eyes wet and I gasped reaching for my cell. Screwed be the time; undying love for Mike had to be expressed right then! The phone barely rang before he picked up. I didn’t even give him the chance to say ‘hello.’

You are AWESOME! This is SO amazing! How did you get the advanced reader’s copy? Mike, I LOVE you for this!

He laughed. I’m happy you like it, sweetie. Just promise you won’t stay up all night reading it, okay?

The snort exploded out of my chest as I clutched the book. No such promises.

He chuckled. Okay, readaholic, call me when you’re off your reading high.

Thanks so much, Mike!

No problem, kid, it’s a pleasure to enable your addiction.

I settled in my reading chair opposite the bed, all lights in the house off except my reading lamp. I was on cloud nine; the advanced reader’s copy of book #7 in the Risen Chronicles was resting in my loving eager hands. It was almost enough to cause me to shudder with joy. True, I was something of a readaholic, but there were few series that truly made me as happy as this one. I ran my fingers over the indentations of the title’s lettering and allowed my eyes to linger on the sex-god looking guy on the cover. Where did they find those guys? You never saw one of them running down the street or bumped into them at the supermarket.

I caressed the open the book and got right down to it. Book #6 had ended with a terrible cliffhanger—the evil hot-stud, Kann, had captured Carolyn and was about to…well, something, when the book ended. Ah, the evil, hot Kann…

I read and read until at some point my feet started going numb on the chair so I had to move base. Reading in bed had its clear advantages but not after a night out. At some point I lost track, the pinkish silvery moonlight charming me into a shallow strange sleep. I had a dream, or more of a hallucination maybe, of a beautiful man who would make my heart full. He was so far away though, light years between us. I begged him to come to me…to make me feel at home in his arms.

Chapter 2

Kann

It began as a ripple in the Otherworlds fabric. At first faint, barely perceptible, almost like mirror-walking—almost like moving from here to there with just one step, regardless of the distance. Except I hadn’t decided where to go this time. My skin tingled. The ripple focused on Piatra—my world—and the council room looked foggier by the second. Chunks of Piatra began to fall away, larger and larger, until there was nothing left. Instead of sitting in the spacious council room, I found myself sitting in a ridiculously small chair surrounded by a dark and cramped room.

The first thing that hit me was the smell of the place: plants, animals…and something else, something that lingered sweetly in the back of my throat after I inhaled. I closed my eyes and waves of knowledge washed over me, the sleeper world—the human world, Akai—settling into shapes, words, sounds and smells I understood. When summoned into one of the Otherworlds, the summoner’s knowledge of the world was gifted to you too. I knew right away it was a world none of us had seen before. Such a rich menu would’ve quickly become legend in Piatra. It was the promise of a gargoyle’s heaven.

A breakable little shape rested on the diminutive bed before me. She seemed fast asleep, a flurry of coppery hair coiling around head and shoulders. Moonlight glinted off that pool of copper, red flickers making it look like lit ambers. She didn’t smell of magic but I took in deep whiffs just to be sure. Her head rested on an open book. The tiniest flicker of blood drew my attention, the essence of her seeping onto the open page. Was it customary for sleepers to bleed on books? Something slippery and soft moved about in my chest as I looked at her. The odd and alien sensation did strange things to my breathing.

The lamp light was annoying. It competed with moonlight to crawl over her skin. The moon couldn’t be shut off but a lamp was defenseless. Its light quickly disappeared. Short walls threatened to close in as the low ceiling kept them tight company. The only redeeming quality of the place was the window, wide and clear. It gave view to an odd mix of other such small houses. Piatra’s vegetation was scarce, but here in Akai, there was a lot of it. Back home air gushed into your lungs and left the throat pleasantly raw with dust. Here air was smooth and it flowed into me with slippery ease. Everything smelled so much stronger because of it. The colors of this world assaulted my eyes even in darkness. My mouth watered at the thought of all I could hunt here, flashes of animals running through my mind as my fingers slid over cool glass. I’d be able to grow so much stronger with this wealth of prey, so diverse and unmistakably juicy.

But food wasn’t the only juicy part of the equation. The simplicity of it was shocking: I wanted the creature on the bed, I craved her. Just standing there in her ridiculously small room and watching the soft rise and fall of her back as she breathed, the tendrils of her scent and the silvery glow of her skin where moonlight touched it—I wanted nothing else but her. My body itched to crawl closer, to feel that small frame imprisoned in my arms. I could almost feel the furious thump of her heart as it would gallop in that tiny chest, the fear and excitement that would roll off of her.

Greed, lust and mountains of despair took residence in my chest. They hit me like a lightning bolt and electrified all of my nerve endings. Pure anger burned through my veins at the helplessness of my desire—it suffered no appeasing or control. I needed to get out of here, to be free of her scent and the image of her small body. But my feet refused to move more than a couple of steps. Pain grew prickly in my muscles if I tried to force myself more than three steps away from the bed. No