With Every Breath (22 page)

He dropped his head long enough to nibble and bite at her neck. He nipped and grazed his teeth over the tender skin, marking her, branding her. Then he ran his mouth lower to capture her nipple and he sucked hard, matching the same rhythm of his thrusts.

“Hold on to me, baby,” he said. “Don't let go. Come with me. I'm close.”

“Me too,” she whispered. “I want you to come with me.”

“I'll be here.”

It was a quietly worded vow with a wealth of meaning. If only she could take that promise he gave and hold it to her heart. If only she could let him move in, take over and protect her as he was so determined to do.

“I'm losing you,” Wade murmured, concern firing in his eyes.

“I'm here,” she denied.

He gathered her in his arms and crushed her to him, his arms like steel bands around her. So strong and comforting. She leaned on him now when she couldn't any other time. For just a brief moment she allowed herself the fantasy of depending on this man to keep her safe.

Her orgasm swelled, growing bigger and bigger, like an incoming wave off the ocean. She rode it, reveling in the wildness. Her head twisted back and forth against his chest as he held her tightly, his entire body drawn as tight as a bow.

Almost to breaking. Almost . . .

Then the wave broke and it was glorious. Beautiful. Wild. The most intense orgasm of her life. The most wonderful. She screamed into his neck and dug her nails into his shoulders, knowing that like he'd marked her, so too would she mark him.

Wade captured her mouth, forcing her head to still and he breathed into her as they both flew.

She was trembling violently in the aftermath as Wade held her and gently lowered himself the rest of the way down to rest atop her. Her pulse was racing and she felt completely shattered. Naked. Vulnerable. She'd never felt as bare as she did in this moment.

He rolled them to the side and she mourned the loss of his reassuring weight and the loss of him being such an intimate part of her. Then he slipped from inside her and she moaned her protest. But he got rid of the condom and to her shock, he slid back inside her, still hard and so very hot. The shock of feeling him inside her without the barrier of latex was overwhelming. She'd never felt anything to compare.

But he didn't move. He just stayed there, deeply embedded inside her. He just wasn't ready for the moment to be over with. And neither was she. She nuzzled against his chest and buried her face against his male flesh, inhaling sharply and savoring his scent.

Guilt flooded her as did grief and she gripped him even tighter, afraid that if she let go she would fall apart.

“Eliza?” he asked quietly.

Tears burned her eyes and she blinked furiously to keep them away.

“I've just marked you for death, Wade, and I can't bear the thought of losing you,” she said, her voice thick with grief.

His voice and touch were so infinitely gentle that it made her tear up all over again. He stroked over her body and then finally his hand came to rest at her cheek before he tilted her head upward to meet his gaze.

“Don't you think it's time to tell me what's going on?” he asked gently.

FIFTEEN

ELIZA
stiffened and would have withdrawn, would have pulled away from Wade's arms, but he tightened his hold on her to prevent her escape. He'd had enough of her putting distance between them and now, when she was lying in his arms after he'd made love to her, there was no way in hell he'd ever let her put any distance between them again.

Her barriers had been down when he made love to her. He could see so clearly the things in her eyes she never wanted anyone to see. Pain, vulnerability . . . fear. And so much grief that it had hurt him to look at her. His heart ached for this woman. This beautiful, brave, fearless woman.

For too long she'd been the protector. Had made it her life's work. Always putting others first. Risking herself so that others would come to no harm. Never had she had anyone willing to do those things for her. Until now. Until Wade. He'd die before ever allowing anyone to hurt her and he'd damn sure die before ever allowing anyone to make her cry again.

“Baby,” he whispered, watching as her eyes became cloudy and then shiny with tears when he murmured the endearment. As though she mattered to him. Didn't she understand she was the most important thing in the world to him? No, she didn't. Not yet. But she would. “Lay your burden down. It's time to let someone carry it for you.”

He'd said it before but this time it seemed to really register with her and hit home. For a brief moment there was a spark of hope and so much yearning in her eyes that he automatically squeezed her tighter in his arms.

She
wanted
to lean on him. He'd seen that in her eyes right before defeat registered and with it her loss of hope. She truly believed that no one could help her, even if she wanted it. How to make her believe in him? How to make her believe that there was nothing he wouldn't do for her, to alleviate the pain and guilt in her eyes, to permanently remove those bruising shadows? That he would lay waste to any threat to her. To anything that caused her such sadness and grief. Maybe she'd never had that before but that had all changed the moment he'd laid eyes on her in his gallery and wanted nothing more than to kiss her. And a hell of a lot more.

“You make it sound so simple. So easy,” she said in a strangled tone.

“It's only as difficult as you make it,” he said gently.

She closed her eyes and emitted a bone-weary sigh. As though the weight of the entire world was bearing down on her, suffocating the life right out of her. Her eyes were already dead though. Lifeless. Without hope.

He gathered her more tightly in his arms, conveying without words that he was here. Solid. Real. And he wasn't going away. Ever.

“Oh God, Wade. I don't even know where to start.”

“At the beginning,” he prompted. “We have all night, Eliza. I'll wait. Take as long as you need. I'm here. I'll listen.”

Tears slithered like silver strands down her pale, hollow face. She seemed to cave inwardly in defeat and when she opened her eyes again, dull resignation was a shadow in her beautiful gaze.

“It was ten years ago,” she began. “I was sixteen.”

He cursed under his breath. Ten years she'd suffered the unimaginable, never sharing with anyone the hell she endured on a daily basis. Jesus, she'd been just a
child
.

“I had no one,” she went on falteringly. “My parents . . . I never knew them. I don't even know what happened to them. No one ever told me, or maybe I was too young to remember. My earliest memories were of being in the system, shuffled from home to home, never having a permanent place to live or an actual family. I wasn't abused physically. I was just . . . ignored, not there if that makes sense. I wasn't neglected in the sense that I had food and clothing. The bare necessities. But I knew from a very young age that I was merely a source of a check from the state each month and I had no illusions that I ever mattered to the families who took me in. Was never considered a daughter or sister. And that was what I wanted—needed—not material things. Those things didn't matter to me. I wanted to be accepted—loved. To feel like I had a place in the world and was part of something beautiful. A family.”

“God,” Wade muttered, helpless to do anything but listen to the wretched ache in her voice.

“The longest I was ever with the same family was two years. I was moved often. I never understood why. I never understood why no one ever wanted me. I was a good child. Quiet. Obedient. I would have done anything to please them so they would want me to stay. But no matter how hard I tried, it was never enough. They didn't notice. I excelled in school but they never recognized that. They just didn't care and it took until I was fifteen that I finally realized that nothing I did would ever be good enough. I didn't want that life until I turned eighteen and would graduate out of the system.”

“What happened at fifteen?” Wade asked quietly.

“I left,” she said simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world for a fifteen-year-old girl to just walk away with no means of support, no money or food.

Dear God. The thought of Eliza at fifteen, having nothing or no one and having to make her own way in the world sickened him to his soul.

“What did you do?”

“I picked up a part-time job so I could complete my GED. I worked nights and during the day I haunted the local library doing online courses. As I said I had always excelled in school so I was able to obtain my diploma just before I turned sixteen. Then I hitchhiked to Calvary. It was as far as my ride could take me, and it seemed as good a place as any. I was able to find work in a local diner and even a room at a local boardinghouse owned by an elderly lady. The rent was cheap and it provided breakfast. I ate the rest of my meals at the diner.”

She took in a deep shuddering breath, pausing for a moment, seemingly lost in the torment of her past.

“He came in one evening. T-Thomas,” she said, stuttering over his name. “He was older, maybe late twenties. Handsome but quiet. There was something about him that, at the time, I couldn't put my finger on. He would always request my section and he always had a friendly smile for me and left great tips.”

“I bet,” Wade said menacingly, already not liking where her story was headed.

Sixteen and some asshole at least twelve years older—old enough to damn well know better—had cultivated an innocent child whose only crime was wanting to be loved.

“One night I left the diner after two in the morning. I had worked a double and was dead on my feet. I didn't own a car. I didn't even have a driver's license. So I walked everywhere and it was a small town so it wasn't a big deal. Two street punks started harassing me and when I ignored them it turned ugly.”

Wade sucked in his breath. “How ugly?”

“Before it got too out of hand, Thomas appeared out of nowhere. He wasn't a badass or even that intimidating but for some reason the punks were scared to death of him. He warned them off me, said I was under his protection and anyone touching me would answer to him.”

Wade's lips thinned. Some hero. A grown-ass man who damn well should know better than to get involved with a vulnerable sixteen-year-old girl.

“He walked me home and then every night after that. He was at the diner every single day I worked. I thought it was wildly romantic,” Eliza admitted with a flush. “To a sixteen-year-old girl who'd never been loved, who'd never had anyone who cared, Thomas was everything I'd ever dreamed of. He seemed to know all of my secret desires, the things I yearned for and then he made them happen. It wasn't until it was too late that I understood
how
he was able to manipulate me so easily,” she whispered.

“What do you mean?” Wade asked in a low voice.

She closed her eyes. “Most people would think I'm crazy, but at least you should have no problem believing me since you know well what Tori, Ramie, Ari and Gracie can do.”

A prickle of foreboding snaked up Wade's spine.

“He's psychic,” she said baldly. “He can see into someone's mind and pull out every secret thought they ever had. Worse, not only does he have the ability to read minds, much like Gracie, he can also manipulate people into doing his bidding. He can plant a suggestion or an impulse and they are helpless to do anything but obey.”

Wade's eyes narrowed. “Is that what he did to you, Eliza? Did he have you under his control?”

She looked on the verge of tears again. Her eyes were swamped with unmistakable guilt.

“He didn't have to,” she said, bitterness lacing every word. “I would have done anything for him,
did
do anything.”

“You didn't kill those women,” Wade said forcefully.

This time the tears not only welled, they fell in endless streaks down her cheeks.

“But I did, Wade. I
did
.”

Wade shook his head. “No fucking way. You'll never convince me you killed anyone, least of all innocent women.”

“Thomas was—is—obsessed with me. I doubt his years in prison have lessened it to any degree. If anything his obsession has only grown. He loved me or rather his sick, twisted version of love and I believed him. God, I believed him. Worse, I
wanted
to believe it. I didn't want to believe he was a monster capable of such
evil
. I just wanted to be . . . loved.”

Her voice cracked with emotion and Wade held her even tighter, shaking with anger and helpless rage.

“He was so gentle and understanding with me. I wanted to make love with him, wanted him to be my first. I was so caught up in the romance of it all. But he told me I was too young, that it would be wrong for him to make love to me until I was older. He told me we had all the time in the world and that he would wait forever. What I didn't realize at the time was that because of his love—obsession—with me he couldn't bring himself to act out his sick perversions on me. So instead he chose other women. Me, he held sacred. His precious love. Too precious to be touched by his evil. So other women died horrible, painful deaths in my stead.”

“Baby no,” Wade said, his voice aching with sorrow and regret at the horrible guilt she'd carried for far too long. Guilt that was not hers to bear.

“I didn't know,” she said painfully. “When the news broke after the first horrific murder, the community was shocked. Thomas was horrified and insisted I never walk to or from work alone. He was with me at all times. Or so I thought. When he wasn't with me, he was raping and torturing those poor women, because he refused to ever touch me with anything other than gentleness and tenderness. With love.”

She choked on the last word, shuddering violently as though it made her physically ill.