With Every Breath (31 page)

“Yeah. Hated that I couldn't be there watching over my girl so I looked for her by tuning in to the broadcast.”

She curled her fingers into his shirt, wanting, needing to just hold on to him.

“I explained that I've worked endlessly to strengthen my mental barriers. And when I told you how he manipulated my mind, you asked if he could still do that. And I said no.”

He gave her a comforting squeeze.

“But I didn't know that for certain,” she whispered shakily. “How could I? I had once thought to have Gracie try to read my mind to see if I could successfully shut her out, but Thomas was in prison and I thought he would never be a threat to me again and if I asked that of Gracie then I would have had to explain things I'd never shared with anyone and never
intended
to, so I just let it go but kept working at it. In a way, I think it was a part of my healing process. I was weak and easily manipulated and so desperate to be loved and to belong, and I hated myself for that for a very long time. I still do at times,” she admitted.

“I blamed myself for so many years. So taking steps to make myself
believe
that I was overcoming what I considered a weakness gave me back some of the power I'd lost. It made me feel protected whether it was true or complete bullshit.”

“Baby, if it gave you even a measure of security, made you feel safer, and especially if it gave you back anything that bastard took from you, then not only is it real, but it obviously provided something you needed. Who gives a shit if it can be scientifically proven? You and I have both witnessed the extraordinary. More than once and in more than one person. Do you think Ramie's, Ari's or Gracie's abilities could ever be scientifically proven? Do you think there is a way to measure their abilities? Ever reproduce them in a lab or an experiment?”

“But it
did
work,” Eliza breathed, her fingers tightening into a ball, wadding his shirt in her grasp, pulling it taut across his chest.

Wade went still and then he gently pried her hand from his shirt and circled her wrist with his fingers, pulling her from the crook of his shoulder and positioning her so she straddled his lap facing him.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, his brows drawing together in a mixture of confusion and concern.

“I purposely positioned myself in front of the podium so Thomas would see me. Because I knew that when he saw me, he would attempt to manipulate me. He would want to reestablish my love and adoration for him and the desire to go anywhere with him. And I had to know, before this mission went any further, if I was strong enough to block him. I was so afraid, Wade,” she admitted painfully. “I was terrified that I have been fooling myself so I didn't have to admit how weak and powerless I was.”

The ache in her head, the residual effects of Thomas's forceful attack, intensified just remembering it. She went silent and leaned in to Wade, resting her forehead against his lips, needing that contact, needing the soothing comfort and unconditional support he gave so readily.

His hand went to the back of her head and gently massaged, nearly making her moan at the brief respite from the pain the simple stroke of his hand gave her.

He gave her another few moments, as if realizing how much she needed them. Just a few to collect herself before she continued. Finally, she lifted her head and met his gaze, suddenly bereft and hollow at the loss of that contact.

“So he tried,” Wade said grimly.

“He didn't see me right away. He'd begun his ridiculous spiel, but I knew the instant he noticed me. I
felt
his eyes on me.”

She shuddered, chill bumps appearing on her arms. Wade slid his hands over her arms, chasing the chill away as he rubbed up and down.

“And then I felt an odd flutter in my head. A probing sensation. It was painful, like an actual physical attack, but nothing like the second time.”

Wade's expression darkened, his eyes glittering fiercely.

“I watched him the entire time and kept my thoughts and emotions in check. And then I saw his shock when he wasn't able to get in, wasn't able to read me. He even frowned and paused in his speech but then looked away and continued on. I knew he'd try again and I was going to give him that one last chance and then I was getting out of there.”

Wade frowned as he watched her closely.

“The second time he came at me hard and fast, striking without warning. I was stunned by how painful it was. My head felt like it was going to explode. Like something was going to pop or burst. But again, I warded him off and he couldn't get in. And then I realized my mistake or rather the mistake I nearly made.”

Wade's eyebrow went up in question.

“Yes, I wanted him to see me and, yes, I wanted him to know that he could no longer control me, that he no longer had any power over me, but I needed him to think that even though he was no longer manipulating my actions and emotions that I still loved him and
chose
to be with him. I wanted him to think that I was there because of him, so that we could be together and live happily ever after and all that other bullshit I thought I wanted when I was sixteen,” she said with an edge of bitterness she couldn't suppress.

“So I looked directly into his eyes, and I smiled at him. I put on the act of my life by faking joy, desire, love and need and pouring all of that into my eyes and my smile. And then, so he couldn't possibly misunderstand, I made a gesture that he used for me when we were together.”

She balled her fist and demonstrated the gesture for Wade so he would see instead of relying on her description.

“I swear I saw delight flash in his eyes and then he sent me this smoldering look that was a mixture of desire and need and oh God, Wade. It made me sick to my soul. Even though I already knew that I'd beat him, that he could no longer control me psychically, it was then that it really sank in, because if he had been able to exert his will then I would not have reacted to him looking at me the way I did. If he had been controlling me, I would have been delirious with joy for him to have looked at me that way. My feelings, my reactions to him were
mine
. Not his.”

Wade leaned forward and kissed her long and so very sweet, his tongue brushing over the seam of her lips as he lightly tasted her. When he leaned back again, pride and fierce satisfaction blazed in his eyes.

“Proud of you, baby.”

He reinforced his words of praise by gathering her hands between them and squeezing them and then lacing their fingers together before lowering their joined hands to his lap.

“Before that moment, he'd vilified me and ripped me to shreds and then suddenly he did a complete one-eighty and defended me.”

“Yeah, I heard that,” Wade muttered.

She lowered her gaze to their linked hands, staring at something that seemed so ordinary and yet it was symbolic to her in a way she couldn't fully explain.

She wasn't alone.

She had someone to lean on.

She had someone she trusted.

She had someone she . . .

“He's going to come after you, baby,” Wade said in a grim tone.

“Yeah, I know,” she quietly acknowledged. “But I'll be ready this time.”

“No,
we'll
be ready,” Wade said forcefully. “You will not face this bastard. Not now. Not ever. He shows his face, he's a dead man. He's already voiced his wish to disappear and be left in peace, and in doing so, he unwittingly played right into my hands. Because I plan to give him exactly what he asked for. No one will ever find his body. No one will ever know—or care—what happened to him. He will have simply disappeared like he already stated he planned to do.”

It wasn't as though she hadn't known of Wade's intentions. It wasn't the first time he'd stated his mission. But somehow hearing it now, when Thomas was free and within reach, Eliza was seized with absolute panic and paralyzing fear.

“I don't want you to do this for me,” she said fiercely, desperation heavy in her voice. “Please don't do this, Wade. I could never live with myself if you killed a man because of me.
For
me.”

Wade slowly brought their joined hands up and turned one of hers so it was pressed to his mouth. Then he looked at her, utter gravity etched in every part of his expression.

“You still don't get it yet, do you Eliza? I fucking love you. You're
mine
. There is nothing I wouldn't do to ensure your safety and happiness and you'll never be either as long as that bastard breathes.”

All the breath was squeezed painfully from her lungs, and it was physically impossible for her to draw in more air. She stared at him in complete bewilderment, shock splintering and ricocheting up and down her spine. Her lungs burned, her chest was on fire and tears burned like acid at the corners of her eyes.

“You love me?” she whispered in a nearly inaudible voice.

She finally managed to drag in a shuddering ragged breath. She was trembling so hard that her hands shook in Wade's firm grasp.

He shook his head but his smile was achingly tender. “Do you honestly think I don't? Do you doubt it? Baby, when this is over and done with and a threat no longer exists to you, you're marrying me. I'm never letting you go. And I'll love and protect you and do everything I can to make you happy until I draw my very last breath.”

The tears she'd tried so hard to suppress ran freely down her cheeks in endless streaks as she stared back at him in wonder. In awe. She was so overwhelmed that her throat knotted and closed. She couldn't have spoken in that moment if her life depended on it.

He loved her. He'd given her the most precious words she'd ever been gifted with. She tried to speak. To say something, anything, but the knot only grew larger until she freed one of her hands from Wade's hold and held it to the front of her throat, rubbing in an effort to alleviate the aching obstruction.

Hadn't she battled with herself endlessly over her feelings for Wade? Questioned them. At times, nearly admitting it, as recently as just moments ago when she'd marveled at what she was to Wade. But before she had actually formed the word
love
Wade had spoken, taking the conversation in a different direction.

How long had it been there? Unrecognized, denied even, yet there all the same. Did it matter when or how long or even why? She couldn't pinpoint an exact moment she'd fallen in love with Wade. Maybe the seed had been there from the start only to be fought, resented, even feared or perhaps she'd felt undeserving. She'd spent so much of her life believing that she was unworthy of being loved and as a result hadn't ever allowed herself to love. Self-preservation. A defense mechanism she was only all too well acquainted with.

She'd spent her young life wanting what so many others took for granted. And she'd thought that her ultimate dream had come true, only to realize how hopelessly naïve and desperate not to mention weak, brainless and foolish she'd been. Then she'd veered to the opposite extreme, never allowing anyone close, never allowing herself to become emotionally involved or attached to anyone and never trusting anyone with her most shameful secrets.

Not until she'd met Dane and gone to work for DSS had she finally begun to open up to others, but it hadn't been overnight or even soon. It had been a gradual process and it had taken time for Eliza not only to want or demand trust from the people she worked with but for her to have faith enough in her judgment to finally place her trust in even those closest to her.

The people she worked with taught her about love. What love really was and what it wasn't, but Eliza had always been an observer. On the outside looking in. Wade hadn't just taught her how to let herself love and be loved. He'd shown her with his actions far more than with his words.

For the first time in her life, Eliza loved. Deeply. Passionately. Unconditionally. Limitless. With a fierceness she hadn't known existed when loving someone.

She knew Wade was watching her, waiting, observing the parade of mixed emotions and thoughts that had to be obvious due to her ever-changing expressions and the sheer awe and wonder that coursed through her blood like the most potent drug. She owed him the same honesty and commitment he'd given her but she was terrified to make herself so vulnerable when she'd sworn that she would never let herself be as exposed and fragile as she'd been when Melissa Caldwell still existed.

At the thought of that name, a person who no longer existed, Eliza stopped cold in her tracks, going utterly still as her face and eyes filled with wonder and revelation. Dear God, how could she have been so blind? So deeply rooted in the past of a person who didn't even exist that she'd never allowed herself to live. And be free.

Wade's brow furrowed and where before he'd seemed content to regard her with tender amusement, watching the myriad of emotions during Eliza's self-demanded come-to-Jesus meeting, now he looked worried and uncertain.

Then Eliza smiled. Really smiled. So wide and big that the corners of her mouth stretched to the point of discomfort. She could feel herself glowing. Radiating joy like she'd never experienced or felt in her life. She reached out to palm Wade's face, cupping it between her hands as she stared lovingly into his eyes, for once unafraid to be vulnerable, to open herself up and allow someone into places in her heart and soul that no one had ever had access to. She was safe. And she was loved.

“I'm not her,” she whispered in awe.

And then she promptly burst into tears, sending Wade into complete panic, his eyes wild and frantic. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding on to him for dear life. She clung to him like a burr and wept noisily into his neck, huge gulping sobs welling from the deepest recesses of her soul. A soul she thought she'd lost a lifetime ago, but Wade had restored it, healed it and her. With his love.