Madman’s Cure: Madman Duet Book Two

by Mason, V. F.

  That’s in an ideal world.

  Sometimes, family betrays you though, like no one else can, and it almost makes you wish you were never born, so you wouldn’t have to endure their cruelty.

  My family?

  They took the word cruelty, twisted it in their own way, and came up with such a horrendous future for us we could never be free of it.

  Cassandra

  I still at the sound of my name on his lips. The air sticks in my lungs and burns them from lack of oxygen, but I stay frozen in time, shattered with the knowledge that he knows.

  He knows.

  “Breathe, Arianna,” he orders, digging his thumb into my chin and forcibly opening my mouth, and I finally gulp for a breath. “Good girl,” he praises me. The warmth of his hand sinking into me along with his husky voice finally snap me out of my stupor, allowing the anger and rage to replace the all-consuming shock.

  Furiously, I snatch his hand away from me, and his brows furrow, but I ignore the danger lurking in the corners of his eyes and focus only on all the lies.

  The lies he went along with, playing his twisted games with me. “You knew.” My voice shakes while rage fuels my every word. “All along, you knew who I was and didn’t say anything!” I shout the last part, but he doesn’t even blink, just continues to broodily watch me, allowing my frustration to hit him full force. “Acted like I was new in town and even asked me to trust you.” A bitter laugh escapes me, bouncing between us, and I ignore the hurt spreading inside me from yet another deception in this life.

  Am I forever destined to be subjected to it from the people around me?

  “Was it amusing to you? Playing with me like that?” I hit his chest hard. “Little Arianna came back, so how about I seduce her just like old times?” He stays silent, and somehow it only angers me more, so I hit him again several times while screaming, “Was I fun enough? Did you get your fill?” I’m about to deliver another blow, when both of his hands lock around my wrists and halt my movements, pressing them to the wall behind me as he traps me between it and his rock-hard chest.

  His face is void of any emotion, and even though he keeps his tone even, I don’t miss the barely noticeable furious warning coating it, alerting me to the monster living inside this man. “Do not ever hit me again, Cassandra.” The coldness slipping into his order sends shivers down my spine, but not fear.

  Fuck that!

  Lifting my chin high, I meet his stare head on and ask, “Or what?”

  He doesn’t much care for it though, because he continues to order me around as if he didn’t hear my words. “I’m a madman. And you belong to me.” I blink at this, and then his hand slides up to lace with my palm. “You are my singular obsession in this life, the most precious possession.” He brings our locked hands to my gaze, showing me how red they became from the blows I tried to deliver to his granite muscles, and judging by how he stood as immovable as a brick wall, I didn’t succeed much. “Do not hurt what belongs to me. Ever.” He leans closer, his lips inches away from mine, and our breaths mingle together, mine raspy and his even, and he whispers, “You are mine. Keep that in mind whenever you want to do something reckless.”

  I’m so mesmerized by the myriad of emotions playing on his face from anger to gentleness, all mixed together into something I can never name, because he has never looked at me like this.

  Without any reservation or secrets or hiding his true nature, where he doesn’t have to control his urges, it seems.

  But try as I might, I’ve stayed enthralled by the beauty of him, and his words have a soothing effect on me, wrapping me in a cocoon of protection where nothing can touch me or break me.

  Where evil people and hate don’t exist.

  Where no one lies to one another.

  “Mine and only mine,” he whispers and pushes forward, capturing my lips with his, biting on them lightly before sweeping his tongue inside.

  Gasping, I give him deeper access to me, and his tongue brushes against mine, gliding all over my mouth as if taking ownership of it again.

  The kiss is hard, passionate, and so deep I arch my back, trying to meet the forcefulness of his mouth that grounds me in this disastrous reality.

  Gradually, it softens; his strokes are more calculated and gentler, and he lets go of me as we both take a deep breath before he locks his mouth on mine once again, but this time, the harshness is gone.

  His hand slides down my arm to my neck where it travels to my hair, tangling his fingers there. He brings us closer, his hard-on digging into my core, and that’s when reality comes back, crushing me again. The images from earlier along with other truths slam into me, and I try to push him away.

  He stills, his mouth on me while I snap my eyes open, ready for a battle, because no woman in her sane mind should be near this man who hurt her.

  Eudard or his second personality, what’s the difference?

  I can’t trust him to keep me safe regardless, and I’m so emotional right now I don’t even care how ridiculous or unfair it sounds. “Let go of me,” I say quietly, but I might as well have screamed in this silent space, because my voice bounces off the walls, coming out harsher than I intended.

  I’m not sure what I expected, but for him to step back instantly wasn’t it.

  Wiping my mouth in disgust—but more with myself, because I acted like a stupid female in his arms who forgets about everything when a man touches her—I ask, “No resistance?”

  He laughs, although it lacks any humor. “Did you expect it? I’m not sure how many times I should say it so it will stick in your head”—his tone deepens—“I don’t take what’s not willingly given.”

  My breath hitches. I swallow through the bile forming in my throat and croak, “Because you know someone took me unwillingly?”

  The question hangs between us in the air like a sword ready to strike us at any moment, depending on his answer.

  Even though he showed up at the hospital all those years ago, I never knew if he believed my claims about the founding five or his twin brother.

  Or whoever sat by the piano anyway.

  I became a sinner, because cruel kids decided to make me their favorite toy of the week, but those cruel kids worshipped the ground he walked on.

  Why wouldn’t they?

  He saved them time and time again instead of letting Ethan die in that car accident and fucking rot in hell all these years!

  “Unlike you, I do trust your words,” he says, and I flinch as if he slapped me. “But then I always gave you my loyalty. We can’t claim the same about you, can we?” With that, he pushes off the sink and goes back into the room, disappearing from my view while I frown in confusion.

  What the hell is that supposed to mean anyway?

  Hopping from the counter, I turn around to see my reflection in the mirror and wince when the angry red marks on my neck come into view, so vivid on my otherwise pale skin, and then I notice the bump on my forehead.

  Leaning closer, I run my finger over it. Strangely, even though it hurts like a bitch, none of the marks are deep, not the ones that leave long-lasting marks.

  His earlier words ring in my ears.

  He wouldn’t have done it.

  Is the second personality able to control his urges?

  Turning on the water, I clean my hands before wiping away the mascara smeared all over my face, along with the tears and blood.

  Once I’m semiclean, I take a deep breath and give myself one last glance before emerging into the room and stop in my tracks when I don’t see him there.

  Did he leave me a hostage here?

  But I’m instantly proven wrong in my assumption, because the door is wide open, only the sound of the kettle humming echoes in the space. I follow it into the hallway then move toward the living room where I see Eudard grabbing something from a cupboard and digging into it with a spoon before putting it inside a blue mug.

  He doesn’t even spare me a glance, so I walk toward him, wondering why he’s so calm
in this situation or, more importantly, allows me to roam around the house freely.

  Shouldn’t he threaten me, demand things and then put me back into his dungeon once he is done playing with me?

  In other words, why is he not behaving like a normal serial killer obsessed with his victim?

  “You are not my victim,” he answers, and it takes me a moment to realize I voiced my question out loud. “So how about you stop acting so dramatic and behave like the grown-up you are.”

  Somehow, this suggestion pushes back my confusion, and anger comes to the surface once again.

  Crossing my arms, I straighten my back despite the throbbing in my joints and step in his direction, but his growl halts my movements, my brows rising. “Sit on the couch.” I bristle at his command, but then he points on the floor. “There is glass everywhere. I don’t want you to cut yourself.” Blinking in surprise at this, I drop on the couch while he continues to prepare himself some kind of drink.

  Resting my elbows on my knees, I hide my face in my palms while contemplating my next course of action.

  Eudard is right about one thing; I should stop acting so dramatically, as if I didn’t even know serial killers exist.

  He is clearly not some kind of psycho obsessed with his victims. He can control himself, even if he’s killed so many people.

  A serial killer not controlled by their emotion is the one you should be afraid of the most.

  Each of their steps is calculated and measured; they know where to inflict the most hurt, because they are born hunters, always ready to catch their prey no matter the circumstances.

  Lachlan’s words right now don’t reassure me but only intensify my despair in this situation. While Eudard might act normally, what if all this calmness around us for now is part of his game, where his victim drops her guard and he can strike her when she least expects it?

  But then Lachlan’s other words pop in my head, and I freeze.

  Chaotic killing means someone is a murderer. Those kinds of people are driven by the desire to kill someone as quickly as possible without any kind of preparation. Serial killers always have their victimology they don’t stray from, the things that calm the darkness and monster within him or her. You have the chance of surviving… until you don’t give him what he wants.

  The only thing is I don’t know what he wants.

  And that’s the scariest thing of all.

  The rattling of the spoon inside the mug snaps my attention back to the present and I see Eudard pouring hot water into it. As he comes to me, the glass crunches under his shoes, and I cover my ears from the sound.

  I tense when he stops in front of me. I look up and plaster my back against the couch, wanting to be far away from his reach, even if all he has to do is lean forward to touch me.

  He extends his hand with the mug to me and orders, “Drink.” He stirs the spoon inside one last time, then taps it on the edge before pushing the mug to me again, but I make no move to grab it.

  “Thanks, but no.” Who knows what he put in it? Maybe it’s some pill to play with my mind and make me compliant with his wishes.

  Eudard lifts it to his mouth, and I blink when he takes a large sip, swallowing it loudly so that his Adam’s apple bobs. “See? I tried it. No poison. Now fucking drink this or else I’ll open that mouth for you.” The steel lacing his tone leaves no doubt about his threat, so I take it from him, ignoring the electricity zapping between us when our fingers glide against each other.

  Until I find out what keeps me alive, I can’t afford to be difficult and tempt him to snap my neck.

  That’s the thing about survivors like me.

  If there is a chance to survive… we’ll grab that opportunity no matter the cost.

  All my emotions can be ignored. If I focus only on this one, maybe the pain inside my heart won’t have the power to break me, to wonder if there was a point to my revenge if it brought me nothing but heartache.

  Only added to the never-ending pile of misery in my life.

  Wrapping my hands around the mug, I peek inside it to see green tea. I take a tentative sip, tasting honey.

  “It will soothe your throat. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what Eunan did.” He drops onto the chair opposite me while I welcome the hot liquid flowing down my throat in much-needed relief, even if a slight sting is still present.

  I’m so into my tea for a moment I forget what he said, but then the name registers in my brain.

  Eunan. “So he has a name,” I say as he lights up a cigarette. He exhales smoke around us, and I frown. “You promised not to smoke.”

  His brow rises. “Do you keep all your promises to me?”

  His earlier jab and this one somehow make zero sense to me. He’s acting like I’m the guilty party here, when I just discovered my man is a serial killer, among other things. “Can you stop talking in riddles and explain to me what the hell you want from me and what you mean?”

  Eudard takes a large pull on his cigarette and then exhales at me while I grit my teeth, really hating him in this moment. “Very well.” He waits a bit and then says, “I’m talking about the fact that you kissed Eachann.”

  The mug pauses midway to my mouth, my breath hitching, and I freeze, afraid to meet his eyes.

  Because, despite all his lies, what I’ve done is wrong. I should have never kissed his brother, no matter my reason. Strangely enough, even now, I feel guilty about it, hating his tone that indicates to me he is not as breezy about it as he wants to seem.

  Since I stay silent, he continues, sending more smoke around us as I sip from my mug. I need to focus on anything but his harsh voice. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that considered cheating?” He clicks his fingers. “Ah, I forgot. We aren’t in a relationship.” Another long pull and then, “Good to know I have the freedom to kiss and fuck whoever I wish, since we are not exclusive.”

  At this point, I’ve had enough of this shit.

  Finishing my tea, I place the mug on the floor, barely breathing from the fury shaking my entire body. I jump up, facing him while he still sits on the chair. “Don’t” is all I say, but he gets my meaning.

  Serial killer or not, lies or not, he doesn’t get to dangle other women in front of my nose. “I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry.” Surprise flashes in his eyes, but then they narrow when a hollow laugh slips past my lips. “Although this accusation is ridiculous, because—” I bite my tongue once again, almost blabbing about Eachann’s true identity. “—but you are right about one thing. We are not in a relationship. And good thing we aren’t, right?” I throw my last words at him, and he puts the cigarette in the ashtray on the table before getting up and stepping toward me, the tip of his boots touching my bare feet.

  Even though my first instinct is to run, since his face is blank and I can’t gauge his emotions, I stand my ground, not wanting to be weak.

  At some point, the damsel in distress has to learn how to protect herself.

  He ignores the part about the relationship and instead asks me another question, his husky voice washing over me like the silkiest of ropes, but nevertheless as dangerous as the regular ones. “Finish what you wanted to say.” He must read my confusion, because a small smile pulls at his mouth even though his green pools stay dead. “Is my accusation ridiculous because I’m Eachann?”

  The world turns on its axis after his question.

  One thing is crystal clear though.

  Madman knows all my secrets while I have no idea about his.

  And no matter how I long to uncover them all to find peace in my mind, I have a feeling they would bring nothing but madness.

  For who subjects himself to living as three people?

  Only a madman.

  Eudard

  Yes, my beautiful phoenix.

  Bearing the truth is way harder than creating twisted webs of lies.

  But try as I might, I can’t protect her from it, no matter how much I try.

  So maybe the time has c
ome to tell her about the nightmare I’ve been living all these years.

  Maybe then she’ll understand that my indifference has always been her salvation and protection from the monsters ready to feast on anything that belonged to me.

  The most ironic and tragic part about it all?

  I’ve failed to help them both when they’ve needed me the most, despite all the coldness I’ve displayed toward them.

  Our life choices are crucial, because they shape the direction in which we are going.

  Who we trust impacts our life. Because those people know all our secrets, they have the power to use them as they see fit.

  But sometimes our choices and the people we trust are so wrong they destroy not only ours but also everyone else’s lives.

  The endless circle of life is when the stronger one wins and the weaker one dies.

  This time, once and for all, I intend to claim the prize and end this game that has been a decade in the making.

  Chapter Five

  “Monsters do exist.

  They come at night when everyone sleeps.

  Their disgusting faces are covered by masks.

  I always try to remember their names but come up blank.”

  Eudard

  Eudard, 6 years old

  Eachann cries into my shoulder, still calling for Grandpa, when our uncle throws his glass at the wall and we all jump away from the tiny pieces showering all over us. “Shut up!” he shouts, and it takes me a second to understand he’s addressing Eachann. “This kind of behavior won’t be tolerated,” he barks. “Phill, teach him a lesson.” The same man who hit the girl earlier steps toward Eachann, but I quickly block his way, acting like a wall between them, and splay my arms wide so he won’t touch my brother. “No!” I tell him, and he chuckles, kicking me in the stomach so I bend in two, air sticking in my lungs.

  I place my hands on the floor, breathing heavily while my stomach hurts so much, and dizziness shakes me.

  I see his leather shoes in front of me, and he raises his foot, ready to grab for Eachann again, but I can’t allow that.