Curse of Soulmate--The Complete Series

by D. N. Leo

  Chapter 27

  Ciaran glanced quickly at Madeline on the passenger side of the car. She looked calm and collected. Her hand slid inside her handbag. He shook his head and reached over, gently taking the phone from her hand.

  “We’ll sort this out and get Jo back, Madeline.”

  “I know.” She smiled at him, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  “Thank you for your help at the police station.” Ciaran tried to break the silence.

  “I didn’t really do anything. You had everything organized. Even if the gardener had gone to the police, he wouldn’t have had a leg to stand on.”

  Ciaran smiled. “It’s not me. Lindsay had it organized.”

  Madeline nodded and remained silent. She didn’t seem to want to talk any further. The closer to the time Zen would call, the more Ciaran saw her wits leaving her.

  He looked at the road. The business traffic was heading toward the city while they were going in the opposite direction. The traffic movement was a metaphor for his life and his family—always against the odds.

  Very soon, he’d open his home to Madeline. He barely knew her, but he couldn’t deny the comfort he felt when he was around her. Still, he didn’t need comfort, didn’t need safety, and didn’t need anyone’s protection. Hell, he’d let someone into his comfort zone once, and it had been a mistake he’d sworn he would never repeat.

  For now, Madeline was a victim, tangled in the mess he’d created in the past. So protecting her was a mission. Happy with his reasoning, he pressed the accelerator.

  The phone rang.

  “Let it ring a few times,” Ciaran said quickly. He veered to the side of the road and parked. Then he signaled.

  He could see the screen flash on, and he cursed. He should have turned that video function off. Jo’s face was pressed against the screen at first, and then she was pulled back a bit by her hair, revealing a large bruise on her forehead and a black eye. She was barely conscious.

  Ciaran felt his blood boil, and he saw that Madeline had lost it. Her hands shook, her lips trembled, and tears streamed down her face. She was in no condition to negotiate.

  Ciaran grabbed the phone, pointed it to the floor, and twisted it around quickly to disorient the view at the other end. Then he turned the video off.

  Zen’s voice came across. “Hello, sweet pea.”

  “Who’s that?” Ciaran cleared his throat.

  Zen’s voice came across reluctantly. “Uhmm . . . Maddie . . . are you there?”

  “She’s busy. Who are you?”

  “I need to talk to Madeline.”

  “Why?” Ciaran snapped.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Zen snarled.

  Ciaran cut off the call.

  Zen immediately called back. Ciaran picked up, “This is our company’s phone. One more harassing call to Madeline, and I’ll hand you over to the police.”

  “Harassment? I ain’t harassing anyone. She promised me something. We had a deal. If I don’t get to talk to her, she’ll regret it.”

  “Who are you?”

  There was a pause. “Zen.”

  “Ahhh, the idiot who wanted to talk to White Knight.”

  “Who am I talking to?”

  “Ciaran.”

  “Ciaran LeBlanc? Are you fucking with me?”

  Ciaran cut off the phone again. Zen called back. Ciaran let it ring a few times before picking it up. “Last chance, Zen. What do you want?”

  “I want to talk to White Knight.”

  “Talking.”

  “I want White Knight, the avatar in hologames.”

  “What part of ‘I am talking’ don’t you understand?”

  “I can’t believe . . .”

  “You’re wasting my time. You had a deal with Madeline, not with me. If you have White Knight, what’s in it for me?”

  “I didn’t know I’d be dealing with you. I have her little friend with me. If Madeline is with you as she claimed, then her concern should be your concern.”

  “That’s a long shot, but go ahead.”

  “Well, if you are White Knight, then you know how to complete the other half of the program Jo developed. There is an artifact buried with John Dee. A crucifix. I want that, too. If I have those two things, then Madeline will get her little friend back.”

  “If that’s all you want, call me back tomorrow. I’ll let you know the location of John Dee’s tomb.”

  “Why can’t you tell me now?”

  “I don’t think a scumbag like you would honor your promises. Call me tomorrow. We’ll work out a place for an exchange. We get Jo back, and you get the artifact.”

  “I . . .”

  “You don’t have a choice, Zen. As you can see, there’s nothing in this for me.”

  “All right. I’ll call you back tomorrow.” Then there was the sound of a gun shot from the other end of the line. Madeline nearly passed out. She opened the car door and got out. “Hear that?” Zen taunted. “That’s a real gun. Next time, I’ll be aiming it at Jo’s head. So don’t fool around, Ciaran.”

  “Fuck you, Zen.” Ciaran cut off the call. He opened a small compartment below the dashboard and pulled out a small box. Tipping a couple of pills onto his hand and grabbing a bottle of water, he rushed out after Madeline.

  She was walking aimlessly at the shoulder of the highway. Ciaran darted forward, pulling her back and into his arms. Her body was cold, she looked at him blankly. She was going into shock. He knew the symptoms too well. She wriggled from his arms, but he was squeezing her too tight for her to break free.

  “Shhhh, listen to me, Madeline. Look at me, please.”

  “Is Jo dead?”

  “No.”

  “She’s dead, isn’t she? It’s my fault.”

  “Don’t talk. Listen to me.”

  “Gunshot . . . he shot her. . . I heard it . . .” She shoved Ciaran away.

  He grabbed her again and shoved the pills into her mouth. He held her tight and pushed the water bottle into her mouth. “Drink this.” She wriggled. “Drink, and I’ll let you go.” She swallowed. Then he swept her off her feet and carried her back to the car. He put her in the back seat and climbed in.

  Madeline opened the car door on the other side, trying to get out. Ciaran pulled her back in and held her in his arms. After struggling for a while without success, she started to sob. Ciaran held her and rocked. And her weeping came like a storm.

  Then she lay on his lap, looking up at him and grinning foolishly. “Ciaran LeBlanc.” Her sultry voice was slurred with drugs. She touched his face. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

  “People don’t normally refer to a man as beautiful, but I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  She grinned. “Do you know how many men I’ve been with?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “I don’t have enough fingers and toes to count them.”

  He smiled at her as she played with his thick, dark hair.

  “Do you mind?”

  “Mind what?”

  “That I’ve been with many men.”

  “No.” He chuckled. “No, Madeline. You’re a beautiful woman. It’s only natural that men admire you.”

  She was giddy. “Got ya . . . Got ya . . .” Then her laughter slipped away. Her eyes were dreamy as she traced her fingertip across his Adam’s apple, along his throat, and down his chest. “I haven’t really been with that many men. I wasn’t trying to be selective or anything. I’ve just never been drawn to anyone . . .” Her hand was on his chest now, circling, teasing. “I’ve never met anyone as powerful as you are.”

  His breath quickened and his heart skipped a beat.

  “Do you know you have that power? You draw people in. Not just women. Everyone. People just love you.”

  “No, I don’t think I have such power, Madeline.”

  “How many women have you been with?”

  “Can you guess?”

  “Many, many, many . . .” She almost sang it. Then she
cupped his face in her hands. “I’d be surprised if it’s not many . . .”

  He looked into her big brown eyes. “Not many,” he said.

  She reached up and pulled him down so he lay on his back. She traced his jawline with her fingers. “You look like a dark angel, Ciaran. The moment I saw you at the park, I wanted to taste these lips.” She rubbed her thumb on his lips, parting them. He bit her thumb and sucked. She yelped, delirious, and devoured his mouth with hers. Her hands traveled down his body.

  He felt like he was going to explode. The blood was coursing furiously through his veins. He saw stars in his eyes. His body was tensed like a bow at a maximum stretch.

  She wouldn’t let go, wouldn’t ease off. Her passion attacked his body without mercy. Her tenacity occupied every corner of his mind. She consumed every life force he could summon. Her energy pulsed into him like tidal waves and withdrew like a strong current.

  In a very short moment, they were going to become one. They were going to invade each other’s lives.

  Yet he barely knew her.

  He pushed her up then propped himself up, still breathing heavily. “I can’t do this to you. We can’t do it, here and now. You’re doped up with the medicine I gave you, Madeline.”

  “Why not?” she murmured sleepily. He brushed the hair back from her face and kissed her forehead as she fell asleep. Then he climbed into the driver’s seat and drove her home to the mansion at Henley-on-Thames, Oxfordshire.

  Chapter 28

  The sound of the tires rolling over the gravel on the long driveway woke Madeline. She sat up in the back seat and beheld the magnificence of Mon Ciel. It was a palace—Ciaran’s home. She didn’t need an introduction to know where she was and what she was seeing. This place was a world in itself—separated from the outside world.

  It was more than a castle, Madeline thought. This palace had the warm feeling of a home. This was the place that Ciaran called home, the place that he would not share with outsiders. But wasn’t he sharing it with her by bringing her here, though? Don’t flatter yourself, she thought. Who knew how many women had shared his bed in this palace?

  She rubbed her forehead. Her head was pounding. As Ciaran stopped the car, Madeline recalled what had happened before. She stormed out of the car.

  As quick as a cat, Ciaran was out of the driver’s seat and after her.

  “Jo?” Madeline asked.

  “She’s fine. Fine for now. The gun shot was just a warning. Zen didn’t shoot Jo. He’ll call again tomorrow.” Ciaran spoke as quickly as he could.

  Madeline stared at him. Then she nodded. “Oh. That’s all right then. We’ll have another night to prepare.”

  He smiled.

  “Is this your home?”

  Ciaran nodded. He wrapped his arm around her waist to guide her inside.

  “Why was I sleeping in the back seat of the car?”

  “You were tired,” Ciaran explained. “The back seat is more comfortable than the front seat.”

  She frowned. “I remember you in the back seat as well?”

  “Then who was driving?”

  “Right. You’re right. I must have been hallucinating. The back seat of your car is very comfortable.”

  “Is that so? I’ll have to try it out sometime.” He grinned and then yelped as she poked his side.

  It surprised her that Ciaran seemed to have no live-in staff to maintain such an enormous place.

  “Be careful when you walk around. There are security cameras everywhere.”

  She frowned and glanced around. “Where?”

  Ciaran smiled. “You won’t see them, but they see your every movement.”

  She figured that behind the antique interior made up of endless expanses of polished wood, glass, stone, and sculptures, there was an ultra-modern technology that controlled everything—from light switches to security doors.

  There was not a trace of violence, death, or sorrow in this place, Madeline noticed. Unlike what Madeline had seen in other castles, towers, and even in churches, the paintings, artwork, sculptures, and tapestries in this palace did not bear a hint of blood, weapons, war, or any historical or religious activities involving blood and sacrifices.

  This was a home.

  “There are two parts of the house,” Ciaran explained at they stood at the junction of two marble corridors. “The old section used to be a castle, and the new part my father added when we moved in.”

  “You were born here?”

  He nodded and gestured toward the left wing. “In the new part of the house.” Before they headed up the set of stairs, Madeline saw a group of blue dots hovering at the corridor Ciaran had referred to as the old part.

  A hollow female voice echoed in the air, “Ciaran!”

  Madeline turned to look toward the dots.

  “Ciaran, you’re home! Welcome home!” She heard the voice again from the same direction.

  Noticing Madeline had stopped walking, Ciaran turned around. “There are rooms in the old wing, but they’re not as nice as those in the new one.”

  “Did you hear that?” she asked.

  “Hear what?”

  Madeline looked again. The blue dots had disappeared. “Never mind,” she said and followed Ciaran up the stairs.

  Chapter 29

  Madeline buried her bare feet in the lush carpet. She loved the softness and texture of the carpet on the soles of her feet. She smiled at the sunshine and went over to the window. In front of her was the endless lawn of the magnificent Mon Ciel. She felt like a princess in a castle. Except she wasn’t waiting for a prince to climb up the tower to rescue her. Her prince was going to knock on her door any minute.

  There was a knock on the door.

  Ciaran stood leaning against the door frame, smiling. The LeBlancs trademark their eyes and smiles, Madeline thought. She had seen the same qualities in Tadgh. Striking eyes and warm smiles.

  “I’m afraid I can’t arrange room service,” he told her. “If you want breakfast, you’ll have to come downstairs with me,” he said.

  “All right. Let me put some clothes on.” She closed the door.

  As soon as she had dropped her robe to the floor, a cold wedge of air brushed over her body. Blue dots appeared in a flock. They swirled around her body, moving up and down.

  Madeline froze. She heard the humming sound and the singsong voice of the woman who had called Ciaran last night.

  Don’t freak out. She could see people’s minds, their thoughts. That meant someone with some sort of connection to her is looking at her body right now.

  She put her clothes on. The flock of blue dots hovered toward a side door tucked at the corner.

  “You know what, people in movies would probably follow you to their death. But I’m not that stupid. You have a good day!”

  She strode to the door, opened it, and smiled at Ciaran.

  “What is that?” Ciaran asked.

  “What is what?”

  “The brilliant smile on your face.”

  “Apparently I’m in a very good mood.”

  Unlike what she had expected, the house was quiet. In fact, no one seemed to be around. In a large kitchen that opened onto a back garden, there was no breakfast waiting for them.

  Ciaran turned on the coffee machine. He opened the cabinet to search for food. Sensing Madeline’s confusion, he grinned. “I’d told my staff not to stock any food. But we might get lucky and find something.”

  Madeline nodded. “So you don’t hang around here much.”

  “I used to. I grew up here.” He pointed to a headless statue of something looking like a woman in the garden. “You can see my mark right there!”

  “You beheaded the woman!”

  “It was the Goddess of Kindness. I experimented with some explosive compound. I didn’t know it would be such a success! My father was less than happy about it. He left the statue there to remind me of my sin.”

  “How old were you when you committed such a crime?”

&n
bsp; “Very young. Way before school age. I was home schooled in my early years, and even at that age, I was reading advanced chemistry books.”

  So you didn’t actually have a childhood, Madeline mused. Where is his family now? Where is his father? Madeline had the feeling Ciaran’s father had passed away, but her reporter instincts told her that trying to dig for more information on that would be a deal breaker. When Ciaran was ready, he would tell her.

  “That looks promising,” Madeline commented, scanning a couple of boxes of something that appeared to be breakfast cereal.

  Ciaran looked at the box. “Promising, indeed. And still within the use-by date!”

  “Even if it was expired, I’d risk my life. I’m starving!”

  “Oh, here you are! Oh, my dearest boy!” A cheery voice echoed in from the side door.

  Ciaran dropped the cereal boxes on the bench and rushed toward the voice. An elderly woman with two armfuls of bags stood in the doorway.

  Ciaran grabbed the bags, put them on the floor, and hugged the woman tightly, almost lifting her off the floor. “Mrs. Rutherford. It’s so good to see you. You look wonderful!”

  “Let me take a look at you!” She cupped Ciaran’s face. “You look so pale. Doctor Thomas said you were injured. He was so right to worry about you. What have you done to yourself? And now, you’re about to eat this stale food.” Mrs. Rutherford’s voice trailed off when she saw Madeline. “You’re not going to force your very pretty friend here to have breakfast-in-a-box, are you?”

  “This is Madeline Roux. She’s a reporter from New York. Boxed meals are quite normal in her line of work.”

  “You’re making too big of an assumption, Ciaran. I have my own chef. Ask my co-editor,” Madeline corrected him.

  “A reporter! You must be smart, just like—”

  “Mrs. Rutherford . . .” Ciaran cut in.

  “Uhmm . . .” She caught herself. “No one is going to have any meal in any box in my kitchen!” Mrs. Rutherford put the bags on the counter and started to unpack eggs, butter, orange juice, milk, and other assorted grocery items.