Her Dark Knight (7 page)

Outside her apartment door, she heard people speaking and recognized Giselle’s voice. When Giselle told her about this apartment and urged her to rent it, Lainie had no idea her boss would be living next door. She wasn’t exactly pleased when she found out either. Apparently it wasn’t enough she had to put up with Giselle at work, now she had to put up with her outside of work. But to give Giselle credit, she never bothered Lainie at home. In fact, it seemed she went out of her way to avoid Lainie as much as possible. Which was more than fine.

Lainie’s good sense fled and she stepped closer to the door. She wasn’t one of those neighbors who noted the comings and goings of everyone who lived around her. But Giselle’s voice on the other side had her curious to see who she was talking to.

The rumble of a male voice drew her closer. What was this? Giselle had
male
friends?

Unable to help herself, she peered through the peephole, trying to get a glimpse of the man Giselle had brought home with her.

He was too close for her to make out many details, but he was tall with wide shoulders and blond hair. Not the pale blond like Giselle but a deeper blond cut short.

As if he sensed her perusal, he glanced up. Quickly she stepped back. Her heart knocked in her chest and she took a deep, shaky breath. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She checked the lock on the door before looking through the peephole again.

He was still standing there, talking to Giselle whose back was to the door. However, he kept glancing at Lainie’s door as if he knew she was watching him.

He was tall, but not as tall as Christien. Light to Christien’s dark. How weird that she was comparing this man to Christien, but something about him reminded her of Christien. Maybe it was the way the stranger carried himself with that inexplicable presence that turned everyone’s heads.

Giselle moved out of Lainie’s sight, leaving the man standing in the middle of the hall. He studied her door for a moment before stepping closer and looking directly at the peephole. Directly at her with eyes so dark they appeared black. Bottomless. Soulless. Lainie’s breath caught in her throat.

He smiled and winked, then sauntered to Giselle’s apartment.

Lainie pulled herself from the door and stumbled to the wall to brace herself. She couldn’t breathe. The air stuck in her lungs and her heart raced. Fear spread through her, making her legs and arms numb. She desperately tried to pull in a breath but all she could manage was a gasp. She closed her eyes and pictured those eyes staring at her, expressionless. Almost…demonic.

A sob caught in her throat, tore through her body, making her tremble so hard she slid down the wall, wrapping her arms around bent knees. Evil. She sensed evil surrounding her. Pressing in on her. Touching her. She scrubbed her arms, trying to rid herself of it. To push it away.

She had to get out of here. She didn’t question the overwhelming urge to run, but obeyed it. It was a struggle to stand. Her legs wouldn’t cooperate. The fear invaded everything, leaving her weak. She gathered up her purse, her cell phone and keys and reached for the door. Her gaze locked on the trashcan. Quickly she dropped to her knees and dumped it out. She swept up Christien’s card and with trembling fingers dialed the number written on the back.

Get out, get out, get out.
Her mind screamed the warning. Hands shaking she put the phone to her ear and bit her lip, glancing at the locked door.

She leaned against the wall, fighting for each breath. The room tilted, swayed. Her vision dimmed. If she didn’t get help soon she would pass out.

“This is Christien Chevalier—”

“Christien, help. I can’t—”

“—I am unable to take your call at the moment, but please leave a message—”

Etienne was crouched between Giselle’s parted legs, preparing to tear the scarlet thong off her when he heard Madelaine’s door slam shut and footsteps pound down the hall. His head jerked up. Giselle made a small sound of frustration.

He pushed away from her, pulled his pants up and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” On hands and knees Giselle scrambled off the bed, naked from the waist down except for the red thong. She slid off the bed and grabbed his arm, her fingernails biting into his skin.

He tried to shake free of her bruising hold, but she held tight.

“You are not leaving me to go to
her.
Do you hear me?” Her face was twisted in fury, her lips turned back into a snarl and her golden eyes snapping flames of fire.

“I’ll be right back.”

She stepped in front of him, hands on his chest. “I forbid it. You will not leave my bed to run after that woman. I’ve taken all I can. You follow her everywhere and I’ve had enough.”

His startled gaze met her determined one. So she knew he followed Madelaine. He couldn’t think of the implications of that right now. Not when he needed to discover where Madelaine was going. He stepped around Giselle and headed for the door. As soon as he closed it, she let out a banshee wail that rattled his eardrums. A large object shattered against the door, shaking it on its hinges. He jogged down the steps, ignoring the burst of fury following him.

He found Madelaine weaving in and out of the crowd on the River Walk. Her movements were jerky, almost frantic.

Lainie raced down the River Walk, past the busy restaurants hugging the walkway, skirting the crowds of people taking advantage of the warm Saturday night. She tried to act normal, tried to act as if the breath wasn’t being squeezed from her. Mentally she knew the air was making it into her lungs, but physically she still felt as if she were being strangled.

Strangled.
She stopped abruptly, her hand going to her throat. The wave of people washed around her. Above, on the balconies overlooking the river, a party was going on, but the noise and the people began to fade.

I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe! Help me!
Mon Dieu,
please, someone help me. She grabbed at the fingers digging into her neck, her feet kicking out. She tried to buck the person off her but the world began to fade. Please. Pleasepleasepleaseplease.

“Hey, lady, you okay?”

Lainie blinked, bringing the real world back in focus. A man stood in front of her, dreadlocks poking out of a knit hat, scraggly beard and kind eyes. His girlfriend was tucked beneath his arm, looking up at her in concern.

“You okay?” The girl repeated her boyfriend’s question, reaching out a tentative hand to touch Lainie’s sleeve.

Lainie took a deep breath, forcing more air into her lungs, willing her heart to stop pounding. “Fine,” she mumbled. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

She nodded. But she wasn’t okay. She’d just had a vision of herself…dying. She shuddered and swallowed the bile rising in her throat but it hurt to swallow, as if she really had been strangled. Her gaze darted around the River Walk. The crowd of people moved on, laughing and talking. She’d escaped her apartment but now she felt exposed, sensing danger, but not knowing where it came from.

“Is there someone we can call for you?” the girlfriend asked.

Christien.
He was the first person she thought of in her apartment and the name that popped to her lips now. Her mind urged her to run to him but what would she say? How would she explain this panic attack?

She took a deep breath and smiled at the couple. Or tried to smile. The action felt stiff and unnatural. “N-no. Thank you. I’ll be fine.”

They looked at each other, shrugged and walked away. Lainie stood uncertainly while people shifted around her. Feeling lost and alone in the large crowd, her tears broke loose and traveled down her cheeks. She wanted to go home. Not to her apartment where she was experiencing weird dreams and strange visions, but to the home she grew up in. But she didn’t have that home anymore and no one was there for her even if she did.

“Madelaine?” A hand touched her shoulder and she jumped, stifling a cry of surprise.

Christien. What little courage and strength remained, crumbled. She threw her arms around his waist and buried her head in his chest, taking deep breaths to keep the tears at bay.

His arms went around her, strong, supportive. Safe.

He tried to pull away but she held on tighter. He managed to maneuver her to the shadows of a building, blocking her from the prying eyes of the other people.

“Are you all right? I saw you had called, but you didn’t leave a message.”

His strength seeped into her. The woodsy spice of his scent surrounded her. Grateful, she clung to him, all pretense of courage vanishing.

“What happened?” He tried to pull back but she pressed her face into his chest. “
Mon amour,
you’re frightening me. Tell me what happened?”

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t…” She thought of the hand encircling her neck, squeezing the life out of her. It still hurt to swallow.

Christien’s body was strung tight as if he sensed danger. What could she tell him that wouldn’t make her look like she was losing her mind? How did she say she had a vision of someone killing her? “Come,
ma chérie.
” He tucked her under his arm and steered them back onto the River Walk, his body shielding her from the crowd. “Come to the nightclub. I don’t like leaving you alone and I can’t be far from the club on a Saturday night.”

Her heart slowly returned to normal, but she remained weak, drained. It was easier to let him lead her. She would be safe in his club. She wouldn’t think beyond that.

The club was only a few blocks away and it didn’t take long to get there.

“Faster to go this way.” He led her to the front doors and nodded to the bouncer, the man who wouldn’t let her in two nights ago. The guy merely nodded back, barely giving Lainie a second look.

Inside, the techno-pop music was so loud the beat vibrated the floor and resonated inside her chest. The multicolored lights twirled and swirled. People were dancing, their movements jerky in the blinking lights, reminding her of an old-time movie that skipped. She felt like her life was one of those disco balls, spinning out of control.

“This way.” Christien had to lean down to speak in her ear. His breath whispered across her skin and she shivered. “We will talk in my private quarters. Let me search out Sabine and tell her I will be indisposed.”

She should argue with him, tell him she was okay, but the thought of returning to her apartment had her throat closing again. “As long as you don’t mind me hanging around,” she said.

He touched her cheek, his eyes flashing silver in the lights. “
Ma belle,
there is nothing I’d like more than to have you in my living quarters.” Even through the beat of the music, the timbre of his words reached out to her, burrowing under her skin, sending prickles of awareness through her.

She leaned toward him, her bones melting to feel the brush of her body against his. But instead of kissing her lips, he kissed her forehead. “Give me one minute.”

He turned to speak to the woman she’d seen the first night she was in the club and who’d answered the door yesterday. Christien leaned close to speak in her ear, but didn’t let go of Lainie’s hand. The woman nodded, glanced at Lainie and nodded again.

Sabine was a woman of the world and Lainie came from a working farm where the excitement of the year was the county fair and 4-H ribbons. She looked away, hating that she felt so inadequate. Her gaze landed on a cluster of women in tight mini-dresses and push-up bras. Any of them could have easily stepped from the pages of a magazine—they were so beautiful. They sneered at her scuffed shoes, her worn jeans and baggy sweatshirt. Then made a point to look at Christien, whispering and laughing to each other.

Lainie lifted her chin and tightened her hold on Christien’s hand. He threw her a worried glance before returning his attention to Sabine. The women continued to whisper and laugh.

Christien touched her shoulder. “This way,” he said above the music.

She knew it was petty and beneath her, but Lainie smiled at the group of women before following Christien into the elevator. She caught their narrow-eyed look of disbelief before the doors slid shut. And then she was alone with Christien in the small elevator, feeling horrible for what she’d done and hyperaware of the man next to her.

The heat coming off him wrapped around her. She was acutely conscious of his every breath and every movement.

She tried to put distance between them, but Christien was having none of that. He tugged her closer and turned to her as the elevator rose swiftly. “I am sorry I did not answer my phone.”

She shook her head, feeling foolish for putting him to all this trouble. With him this close, her fear abated. “It’s all right.”

He cupped her cheek in his large hand. Against her better judgment she leaned in to his warmth. “No,
chérie,
it is not all right.”

He was so close his warm breath caressed her skin. So close she could kiss him. For a moment their gazes locked, his such a pure beautiful gray she could fall into it and never want to leave. She had the oddest sensation she’d done this before, looked deep into his eyes and found everything she’d been searching for.

The elevator doors opened, startling her out of the haze of longing and severing the deep connection humming between them. He pulled away and motioned for her to exit. She stepped out and caught her breath.

She expected his living quarters to reflect his office décor. Glass and chrome, hard angles and dark colors. Starkness and simplicity.

Instead
elegance, opulence
and
luxury
were the words that sprang to mind. The look was homey instead of stuffy. The kind of place to retreat to after a hard day’s work.

He’d decorated in dark wood, intricately carved, with jeweled tones to complement, offset by creams and beiges. The living room and dining area were combined, surrounded by cream-colored pillars. The windows were unadorned, the lights of Milwaukee in the background and the dark void of Lake Michigan beyond.

The couches were formal, yet comfortable. A flat-screen television looked out of place sitting inside a large antique armoire.

Gorgeous, gigantic floral arrangements sat on the coffee table and dining room table and a sword hung above a stone fireplace.

Feet sinking into the deep-piled carpet, Lainie made her way to the fireplace to stare up at the weapon. Her mind flashed back to her latest dream in which the other Madelaine had been watching Christien prepare for battle, a sword almost exactly like this riding his hip.

She knew nothing about medieval weaponry, yet had dreamt about this one in detail, right down to the hammered hilt. Before tonight she hadn’t even known what a hilt was.

In her dream the sword had been nicked and dented. This was polished and gleamed in the recessed lighting but that was the only difference. How did she dream of this weapon when she’d never seen it before?

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “Where did you get it?”

He stepped into the room and for the first time she noticed the music playing in the background. Not the loud techno-pop of downstairs, but a quiet jazz coming from an invisible sound system.

“I’ve had it for years.”

She turned from the massive fireplace, almost disappointed he hadn’t said more.
What else is there to say, Lainie? Were you expecting him to tell you he used it to fight in the Crusades?

“What happened tonight, Madelaine?” His tone wasn’t cajoling, but commanding. Not smooth, but coarse.
The soldier,
her mind whispered.

She stepped away from the weapon. His eyes tracked her, unrelenting, probing. She rubbed her arms and looked around. She wished she could spill it all, but that was impossible. You didn’t tell a stranger you dreamt of him or you saw visions of yourself being…murdered. Her mind stuttered over the word and she shivered. The fear she thought she’d overcome bubbled to the surface, almost overpowering her, but she managed to wrestle it back in place and put a tight hold on it. Fear wouldn’t do her any good right now. She didn’t even know what it was she feared.

“Madelaine.”

She closed her eyes, once again pulling from his strength and making it her own.

“It’s nothing.” She walked to the windows to look out. Far below, a line of people snaked around the building, waiting to get into his nightclub.

“You lie,” he said softly.

She turned to face him, keeping the room between them. “It was just an episode. An asthma attack. I panicked and called you.” She glanced away, unable to meet his direct gaze. “I’m sorry I bothered you, but I don’t know many people here yet. You’re the first one I thought to call.” There. That at least wasn’t a lie.

“Do you have these attacks often?”

“More often than before.”

“Should I call a doctor?”

“No!” Her head jerked up. “I mean, I’m fine now. They pass.” Or at least she hoped they passed, but what did she know? She’d never dreamt like this before.

He tilted his head and studied her. “What brings on these…” He paused. “Attacks?” In his quick hesitation she sensed he didn’t believe her but was playing along.

“Um. Stress.” Isn’t that what she’d told herself? Just stress. Stress of moving, starting a new job, making new friends. The stress of her father’s health and paying her bills. Except lots of people did all those things and she’d bet a dollar none of their stress manifested itself in strange dreams that took place hundreds of years ago, and with weapons she knew nothing about but now, due to her dreams, suddenly seemed to have an abundant knowledge of.

Christien remained quiet for a long while, studying her. She had the feeling he was waiting for something. Waiting for her to tell him the truth, but she couldn’t do it. This wasn’t something you just blurted out.

“I couldn’t breathe.” She suddenly wanted him to know, needed to say it so they had at least some honesty between them. “When I called you. I couldn’t breathe.”

His gaze sharpened. “Is this what happens during these attacks?”

She nodded, relieved she could at least admit this. “It feels like…” She put a hand to her throat and swallowed. “Like someone’s strangling me,” she whispered. “Like I’m dying.”

She closed her eyes and the vision came back. Hands around her throat, squeezing the breath from her. The thought of impending death. The fear the knowledge brought. The sadness of losing…something. She didn’t know what though.

“Madelaine.” He was suddenly in front of her, pulling her hands from her neck and holding them in his. “
Chérie,
breathe. I am here now.”

She opened her eyes, still seeing the hands, still feeling the burning need to breathe. Her chest rose and fell.

“It’s all right,
chérie.
”

“It’s not,” she gasped. “It’s not all right.” She backed away from him, terrified. Not of him but of herself. Of what her mind was doing.

He let her go, his hands falling to his sides, his eyes haunted. “Madelaine,” he said softly.

“It’s not all right, Christien. Something’s wrong with me.”

She moved to the sofa and sank into it, putting her head in her hands.
What’s happening to me? Why am I acting this way? Where are these visions coming from?

He sat beside her and took her hands in his, kissing her knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“For what? What has you so scared? Please tell me so I can help.”