Osvaldo blinked slowly. What the hell was this woman saying?
He'd just threatened her life, and now she was talking about healing him?
A low laugh escaped his lips. Deep. Dangerous. That damned dimple appeared. She was insane. Bold. Stupid. But he was intrigued.
"You think you can fix me?" he asked, voice mocking, eyes gleaming. "You don't even know what's wrong with me."
Once upon a time, maybe... maybe... he believed someone could cure him. That belief died years ago. Not after all the doctors, the scientists, the herbalists he had hired. Even his father's antidote had failed.
It was stated that he would slowly recover when he turned twenty-five, but the only thing that changed was his seasonal madness. It never left, it just stopped being stagnant.
His madness had no name, no cure. It came and went like a curse, devouring him, piece by piece.
He had learned to survive it. Barely. His illness had made him a genius. A monster. A man torn between genius and insanity.
