by Lisa Oliver

Summons - Lisa Oliver - Quirk of Fate
Part of the Quirk of Fate series:
  • Summons

The first in a new series of standalone stories where our lovely men find their mates in the strangest of circumstances. It has to be Fate, right?

Edward Rosen, level ten mage, hadn’t reached the end of his tether – he was hanging from it. After a hundred and twenty-four years of living under his parents’ rules, Edward decided the only way things could change, was if he got married. The only problem was that the wedding was meant to take place in a matter of hours and Edward hadn’t met his groom yet.

Mammon, Prince of Hell, was doing what most demons did when they were bored – he was playing poker. When an unbeatable hand is foiled by a summons, he’s not impressed. But rules are rules and Mammon followed the summons, determined to get back to his game as quickly as possible.

Marrying was just the first hurdle. Coping with the demands of Edward’s family, a curse, a prophecy, and four hellhounds took a lot of work. Clara’s having a ball, but what’s with all the toothpicks and where did the dragon come from?

Summons is a 50,000 word story that’s a classic example of what happens when the author’s muse runs amuck. But like all of Lisa’s stories, it contains fated mates, a spot of humor, and intimate situations between two men that are only suitable for readers eighteen years and older. HEA is guaranteed.

Cover Artists:
Pairings: M-M
Heat Level: 4
Romantic Content: 5
Ending: Click here to reveal
Character Identities: Gay
Protagonist 1 Age: Ageless/Immortal
Protagonist 2 Age: Ageless/Immortal
Tropes: Fated Mates / Soul Mates
Languages Available: English
Series Type: Same Universe / Various Characters

Mammon was playing poker when he felt the rare tug of a summoning. “What the fuck?” He looked at the cards in his hand. A royal fucking flush. Just my luck. “Damn it. I’ve got to go.” He flung his cards on the table, ignoring the pile of coins in front of him.

“Aw, has the poor prince of hell gone and gotten himself summoned.” Beelzebub cackled with laughter. “And I only had two pairs.”

“I hope you get boils on that fat ass of yours,” Mammon snarled, clicking his fingers, so his long black coat appeared, complete with a fur collar. “I’ll go and let the summoner know the error of his ways, and then I’ll be back to fleece you of not only your money but the funds of your children, your children’s children, and their children too.”

“I don’t have any children.” Beelzebub pouted.


“And it won’t be worth having any by the time I’ve beaten you.” The summons got more insistent. Mammon scowled at the onyx ceiling. “I’m coming. I’m coming. Hell’s teeth, why do these guys always have to be in such a hurry.”

Letting himself be tugged earth-side, Mammon disappeared from the Underworld and appeared in what looked like a large basement. Automatically, he checked the summoning set up. Pentagram, not a circle, drawn with fresh lines, not a faded stamp on the floor. No salt – this guy knew his stuff. Mammon’s nostrils twitched as he caught the hint of burned blood in the air. My summoner has used his own blood. Getting out of this could actually be a challenge. Mammon smirked at the idea.

Finally, Mammon swung around so he was facing the man who demanded his attention. The man was slender, his face unlined, but there was a resolve in his green eyes indicating he’d reached the end of his tether. The black shaggy hair was common among mages, but the fine features of the man’s face wasn’t. Perfect black eyebrows sat atop the intense eyes, and the nose had only a slight kink in it – probably broken at some point. Full lips surrounded by a hint of scruff promised much, if it was a summoning of that kind, but the firm set of the chin, also highlighted by dark scruff, didn’t promise much in the way of pleasure. What a shame.

“Summoner.” Mammon nodded briefly. He could afford to be polite until he knew what the summoner wanted.

“Prince Mammon.” The summoner’s nod was just as brief. “You can call me Edward. I have summoned you as I have a deal to discuss with you. One that would benefit both of us.”

Another fucking deal. “If you’re talking world domination, it’s been tried, and it doesn’t work. My master gets very touchy when summoners try to do that, and he usually intervenes. You’ll just get yourself killed.” Mammon looked around for a chair, but of course, no one ever thought to put one of them in a summoning circle. There was no point in him trying to convince Edward to let him out either – the markings on the young mage’s robe denoted a magic user of considerable strength and lineage.

“I’m not interested in world domination. I have a business I enjoy, and I like living, thank you very much. No, I’m negotiating a contract of a different kind.”

Mammon raised his eyebrows. Maybe the poor dude’s horny after all. It’s always difficult to tell when they’re wearing those robes. “What are the parameters of your contract? I don’t bottom for anyone, even under a summons.”

Edward’s face flushed a bright red. “It’s not that type of contract either.” He moved to the side of the pentagram, picking up what appeared to be a scroll and tossing it for Mammon to catch.

Breaking the wax seal with his fingernail, Mammon did appreciate those little touches, he scanned the document, frowned and read it again more carefully this time. “Let me get this straight. You want me to marry you?”


About the Author

Lisa Oliver's first fiction book was The Reluctant Wolf, book one in the Cloverleah series. Since then she's written more than fifty other titles spanning a number of different series including Bound and Bonded, Stockton Wolves, Balance, The God's Made Me Do it, City Dragons, The Necromancer's Smile, and the Alpha and Omega series. A huge fan of the true mate trope, Lisa's books are all paranormal, all M/M (although a few M/M/M have crept in too) and all have an HEA.

When not writing, Lisa can be found with her nose in a book or out walking her Rotty pups. Her adult children and grandchildren have found the best way to get her off the computer is to offer her chocolate.


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