Madman’s Cure: Madman Duet Book Two

by Mason, V. F.

  “I appreciate it.” Pushing each word out is like swallowing acid that burns my throat, creating fire all over my body. “I’d like to stay the night.” And contact as many people as I can to end this madness. But Liam can’t be close to me. “I’d like to rest too.”

  Liam slaps his forehead again, wincing, remorse written all over his features. “Of course! I’m so sorry for this.” He hooks his arm with mine, dragging me to the exit. “I was just so happy to show you all my hard work. You can play with the girl later, once you get some sleep. I’m so happy, Eudard. So, so happy.”

  And I’ll be fucking happy once he dies and lies in a pool of his own blood, and even that won’t be enough to wipe away the dirt he smeared on us both with his plans and decisions.

  Before the doors to the basement close, I hear the girl scream again.

  “Mi hermano me salvará!”

  “What did she say?” Liam glances over his shoulder, frowning.

  I reply, “That she hates us.”

  “Oh.” He shrugs. “Don’t we all at the beginning? She’ll learn what a gift this life is soon.” He starts to walk upstairs with me, continuing to spout bullshit to me about the future I have no intention of joining and will destroy no matter the cost.

  While the true translation of the girl’s words echoes in my ear.

  My brother will save me.

  Who is her brother that she is so sure will come to the rescue? Not only that, this knowledge allows her to act brave even if she can’t be older than eight or nine by the looks of it.

  The question remains.

  Who is her brother?

  Cassandra

  The first thing I notice about the house when we enter through the massive doors is that everything has changed.

  No longer do gold and red along with black trim coat the walls of this house, giving it an aura of luxury and, strangely enough, loneliness. It always amazed me how a house so full of people and two kids could be so dark, like a permanent illness that no one could cure resided in it.

  Whenever I asked Mom about it, she would change the subject, telling me that we should mind our own business and that these images lived only in my head.

  But thinking about it now makes me wonder if she knew some of the secrets these walls held, and that’s why my parents had such loyalty to this family no matter what. The only thing that broke the camel’s back was Ridge’s refusal to believe me.

  I stop, pressing my hands to my chest, because now, without anger and hurt coating my judgment, I can’t understand how the man who had always been kind to me, despite having a dominant presence that everyone was afraid of, could have been so cold to me after my tragedy.

  Was it because his kids were threatened? Or because once again something happened that I’m not aware of?

  Shaking my head, I focus back on the house or rather the different shades of purple, colors that now are reflected over this house, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere that one wants to bask in and never leave.

  From the lavender walls and curtains divided by white lace to purple furniture and fluffy carpets. Different artwork graces the walls showcasing the views of the ocean, like various snaps in time with one starting at sunrise and ending with the sunset.

  Walking farther from the hallway, I peek into the spacious living room that has massive couches and chairs with a silver chandelier dangling above, sending crystal reflections off the floor, almost blinding me as it glistens so brightly.

  My nose twitches at the scent, and I search for the source of it, spotting several vases on tables with roses.

  It’s almost like someone spilled rose perfume in here.

  I see a dining table in the distance and blink in surprise, because it can only hold around ten people, a contrast to the one they used to have before that would have seated forty people.

  The terrace door leading into their garden is white and no curtains block the magnificent view it opens up too.

  Oh my God.

  This house is lovely!

  I haven’t seen it all, but if the rest of it is like all this…

  Then what?

  “You can explore it further if you want,” Eudard suggests, leaning on the doorjamb, his gaze glued to me. “Although the colors are the same,” he says with his detached tone, and it doesn’t escape my notice how he doesn’t elaborate on the comment he made back in the car.

  Loving you was a privilege I didn’t have.

  Does he have it now? But then he never called it love, right? I’m not sure they even know what this emotion means, let alone how to display it like normal people.

  “I hadn’t realized you’d done so many renovations.” I find my voice, clearing my throat. “It’s nice here. Not what I expected.” Although the decor had been the last thing on my mind, rumor had it they never changed decor, keeping it the same as generations of Campbells before them.

  Family legacy and all.

  “Did you expect Satan and chains with blood splashed all over the floor?” Amusement laces his tone, and my eyes narrow on him, but before I can comment on that, a young woman enters holding a tray with two steaming cups.

  “Mr. Campbell, here is your tea,” she says timidly, her gaze cast down. She quickly places it on the small table between the couches.

  She wants to dart, but he stops her. “Valerie, meet Cassandra.” The girl snaps her head back so quickly I wonder how she doesn’t break her neck and gasps loudly, “Oh, the dance teacher.” Happiness crosses her face, and I’m not sure what to make of it.

  Am I supposed to know her? She doesn’t look familiar. In fact, come to think of it, the butler outside is a new guy as well. And usually Melanie greeted us all at the door, asking if we wanted to eat.

  Where is the old staff? Or did the house staff get replaced during renovations too? “Hey.”

  She nods in acknowledgment while Eudard continues. “She is my woman and will be staying upstairs in my room.” Valerie’s cheeks heat up, and I groan inwardly, because this is almost unheard of in our small town.

  Women don’t live with their men unless they are married, as archaic as it is; otherwise, you get the stink eye from the older generation. Which is ridiculous, but here we are.

  “Make sure her luggage is taken there.”

  Valerie gives one last nod before she rushes to the hallway where I hear the butler, Nick, asking where to go next.

  Once they’re walking up the stairs, I come closer to Eudard and hiss, “Are you insane?”

  “I think we established that a long time ago.”

  “This will spread rumors!” Doesn’t he understand? Not to mention all the other complications I’m afraid to voice.

  But it’s not like he’s sharing, right?

  “Does it matter?” he asks, once again giving me a blank expression, and my hands fist, wanting to shake him—not that it will be of much use.

  Stubborn jerks like him rarely listen to reason.

  “Of course! You are the mayor in this town.” How can he not see it? I might not stay in this town for much longer, but this is his legacy. He can’t run away from here. “You should be an example of proper behavior. Not give reasons for people to question you.”

  He huffs in disbelief, chuckling. “Who gives a shit about that?”

  I blink in surprise, taking a deep breath, because this argument gets us nowhere. “Then why are you one?” I fire my question, and he leans back, laughing, but it lacks any humor.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he muses, turning away and marching upstairs while all I can do is follow him, my sneakers squeaking annoyingly on the marble.

  Nick and Valerie pass by, their stares on us, but they quickly glance away when they notice my attention on them.

  Great, five minutes in this house, and I'm the star of rumors.

  “Is this your go-to modus operandi? Avoiding the subject.” I seethe at his back, so confused and lost in all this, because what are we doing here anyway?

  He is not be
having like a serial killer; he doesn’t talk about his past, and there are no threats. Why am I here then if he doesn’t plan to do anything with me?

  A toy he keeps close by so other men won't harm or play with it?

  “I’m not avoiding it. I’m simply going to my room to change,” he says without turning back, reaching the top of the stairs and turning right to my surprise.

  Isn’t the master bedroom on the left?

  But he walks to the second biggest room in the house located in the right wing. It was mostly reserved for guests, so it stayed vacant for us to play or hide in when we all hung out together.

  He opens the heavy, brown double doors and steps inside, hiking his shirt from his back and throwing it on the nearby couch as he heads toward the wardrobe, snatching a sweater from it.

  Why would he need it in this heat?

  I have a second to study the surroundings.

  It has only a brown wooden bed with black satin sheets, a stand with a TV opposite it, two bedside tables and lamps, plus a balcony from where the wind is slipping inside and blowing the black curtains in different directions.

  Yeah, this room is as cold and dark as its owner.

  “We need to talk about us,” I finally say, determination lacing my voice. “Why did you bring me here anyway?” I fire all this at him, and he finally spins around to face me. Oddly, anger flashes on his face.

  “Why do you think?” he asks, coming closer, and I step back, stumbling a little on the carpet but still keeping myself upright.

  “I don’t know. You are not—”

  “What? I’m not torturing you?” He chuckles. “You are not screaming or kicking me either, so what changed?”

  “What—” I stammer, not understanding this swift shift of demeanor from calmness to fury in mere seconds.

  But oddly panic and fear don’t rise inside me, urging me to escape the danger, but instead my heart insists I inspect it deeper.

  He won’t ever harm me, not as Eudard at least.

  This I know with absolute certainty.

  “Is it hard to play this game with me while I’m not operating in my modus operandi, as you put it?” His boots thud on the floor when he paces toward me. I take a step back, hitting the wall with my back, and he plasters a hand on either side of my head, trapping me in his hold.

  “What game?”

  “The one where you try to accept my darkness, only for you to stab me in the back.”

  I gasp at his words, equal fury burning in my chest, and I hit his chest, but it doesn’t do much good.

  He stays as unmovable as a stone.

  “I want to understand you!” I shout.

  But it earns me a shout back. “Then why did you run?”

  Puffing air, I push him away again, but it’s no use. He intends to keep me here, it seems. “Because I needed a minute to think. It was the right decision at that moment.” I raise my chin, digging my finger into his chest while meeting his gaze, despite the anger in his eyes. “You are a serial killer. You know who I am. And you have an alter ego who wants to kill me!” I scream the last part and then wince when it hurts my sore throat. “So excuse me if I needed to get away from you and think.” Breathing heavily after the tirade, I add, “I won’t apologize for it.”

  His hand wraps around my throat, pressing me harder against the wall, yet his fingers don’t press into my skin, just gently put me in my position. Tipping my chin back, he caresses my red scars with his thumb as if only now he remembered the pain his alter put me through.

  The touch is such a contrast to his cold tone though when he speaks again, breaking the momentary reprieve from his accusations. “Do you love me?”

  My eyes widen at the question, my heart stills and air sticks in my lungs.

  But no words come, because I don’t know how to answer that question. It's so complicated to explain the depth of my emotions, and I search for the right way to express them without angering him or worse, hurting him.

  He takes my silence for an answer though, coming to the wrong conclusion.

  A self-mocking smile pulls at his lips with a short, hollow laugh. “Let’s try again,” he says, his voice void of any emotion now. “Did you love me yesterday?”

  Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I nod, and his eyes close before he opens them again, and they remind me of the looks he used to give me in the high school hallways.

  Blank yet so intense they broke goose bumps on my skin.

  “Do you think it will be easier to love me once you know my story?” he asks. Raspy breath slips past my lips when he leans closer, his masculine scent enveloping me in a haze along with his soft whisper. “You will accept me, because there will be a justification for that. Something that softens your heart.” He presses his forehead against mine, stepping closer so that his hips dig into mine and almost leave no room to wiggle between us. “He is dark, but he is tortured, so I can love him,” he whispers, and I don’t miss the razor edge in his tone. “He needs me to soothe his fire.” His hands palm my head, arching my back, and he leans closer, his lips inches away from mine. “What if I’m none of those things?” he asks, and I freeze in his arms while tension grows around us, mixing with the lust and desire always present when we’re close to each other.

  Like a curse that nothing can break no matter how one searches for the cure.

  “What if all along, you loved a monster who doesn’t have a good enough explanation to cover up his sins? He kills, he tortures, he destroys for his gratification.” My stomach flips and uneasiness rushes through me. I want to be free from his hold, but he doesn’t let me, pushing me firmer against the wall. “Will you love me then?”

  “Stop this,” I whisper, hating this haze of desire and madness he’s surrounded us in, and try as I might, I can’t escape it. “Please, stop this.”

  “Stop what?” he asks harsher. “The truth? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “It can’t be the truth,” I tell him, not believing for a second he is just a psycho with no reason to be that way. His scars, his tenderness toward me, and his love for his twin attest to that fact.

  Or maybe I’m delusional enough to see goodness where it doesn’t exist.

  “And what if it isn't? Then you willingly came to the monster’s mansion, allowing his bloody hands to touch you.” And with that, his lips land on mine, connecting our mouths in a deep, passionate kiss.

  My hands fist his shirt, and I want to push him away, hating how he uses our physical connection to prove some sick point, and I know if I insist, he will let me go.

  He will never force me, but I do none of those things.

  Because in this kiss that sears my mouth once again, staking claims on me, while his hands lace in my hair, bringing us impossibly closer, and his rigid muscle presses against my feminine ones, I recognize something else.

  Desperation.

  I don’t know what he wants to accomplish with all his words, but I give him what he needs nevertheless, throwing caution to the wind and deciding to believe my heart and not my mind.

  Snatching my mouth away, we both breathe heavily while I wrap my arms around his neck and utter the words I’ll never be able to take back no matter what I discover.

  Maybe that’s why he wants them. “I love you,” I say, loudly and proudly with my heart slamming against my chest, and it seems like it’s the only sound in the room. “I love you now, and I will love you after your truth.” He stills, not even breathing for a moment, just drinking me in as if he can’t believe my words. The world around us ceases to exist, leaving only the two of us to enjoy this moment despite the pain still present between us.

  And then his mouth is back on mine.

  He pushes me against the wall, our tongues entwining, locked in a passionate kiss that is like a tornado ready to devour everything in its path. His hands grab the V of my dress, tearing it in two and exposing my white lingerie.

  Eudard snatches his mouth away, groaning when his gaze roams over my bo
dy. “You are so beautiful.” And then his hand wraps around my neck while he shifts closer, his hard-on digging into my core. He says roughly, “And mine.” His tone implies a dare for me to argue with this assumption, but for the first time, I have no need to.

  He already knows there is no one else for me in this world but him, so why not shout openly about my love? “Yours and only yours,” I reply, circling his neck and rising on my tiptoes, pressing myself closer to him. “I love you,” I whisper into his ear, and he shudders from the power of my words, his hands wrapping around my hips. “No one in this world exists for me but you.” I slide my lips along the bend between his shoulder and neck, leaving light nips, barely even grazing the skin. “You are the only man in my universe.” Skimming my lips over his jaw, I slip my tongue inside his mouth, but before he can respond, I glide it down his chin to his throat, enjoying the masculine scent surrounding me. “I’ve never loved anyone but you.”

  His raspy breath fills my ear, but I continue to travel down, licking over his collarbone and nipples, biting on his pecs before sliding my hand over his carved six-pack to his navel, my fingers opening the belt buckle, popping the button on his jeans. The sound of the zipper is exceptionally loud, and yet somehow it makes us hotter if the fire zapping through me and his desire-hooded eyes are any indication.

  “Never kissed anyone but you,” I say. Possessiveness and deep male satisfaction flash over his gaze as I kneel in front of him and take out his cock, my face inches away from it.

  His fists my hair, his voice unusually raspy. “Cassandra, don’t.” But his action contradicts his words, because he pushes me even closer, grazing my lips with the tip of his cock. I open them, giving it one long lick.

  “Never done this with anyone but you.” My tongue slides down his length while I wrap my hands around the base, squeezing him, and then my lips suck him a little.

  He groans above me, pushing forward a little, and I welcome the pressure, opening my mouth wider while stroking him with my tongue.