As I Breathe (One Breath at a Time: Book 2)

AS I BREATHE

One Breath at a Time

Book 2

by

Leilani Bennett

Acclaim for Leilani Bennett
:

“
As I Fade
is spine-tingling, sexy, clever, and heartfelt—like
The Butterfly Effect
collided with
The Time Traveler’s Wife
.”

—
Eve Paludan
, bestselling author of
Witchy Business
and
Burning

“As I Fade is epic in scope and flawless in execution. What a beautiful book!”

—
H.T. Night
, #1 bestselling author of
Witch to Choose
and
Vampire Love Story

“I loved, loved, loved this book! And you will, too!”

—
Elaine Babich
, bestselling author of
Intrusion
and
A Different Kind of Love

Other Books by Leilani Bennett

STANDALONE NOVELS

Casting Blame (coming soon)

ONE BREATH AT A TIME  SERIES

As I Fade

As I Breathe

As I Fall (coming soon)

As I Fade

Published by J.R. Rain Press

Copyright © 2013 by Leilani Bennett

All Rights Reserved.

Cover design created by iDesign-eCovers

[email protected]

Ebook Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedications

I am blessed and proud to dedicate this novel to my three amazing children, Adella, Haley and Quinton...remember the “Butterfly kisses.” Pass them along. All three of you are my inspiration.

In loving memory of my Grandma Helen, aka my Russian Bubba, a woman before her time...

As I Breath
e

“
For those who believe no proof is necessary, for those who don’t believe no proof is possible.”

—
Stuart Chase

Prologue

Nuilley’s Angle

Nuilley aimed to get to the bottom of Brielle’s sudden disappearance. Desperate times called for desperate measures. She put into action a fail proof plan.

Her goal was to search each one of the seventy-five (possibly more, she’d done some shopping since she’d last counted) purses for the spare key to Brielle’s place. Brielle had given it to Nuilley just in case she ever lost hers and needed a back up. Nuilley carefully emptied each purse one by one. With each search, she came up empty handed and thoughtlessly threw the designer purses into a heaping pile in the middle of her bedroom floor. Nuilley didn’t care that the beautiful, expensive purses were crushed as she tossed one atop the other. Right now everything else was irrelevant to finding her friend, who had seemingly vanished. In order for Nuilley’s plan to be successful she needed Brie’s key. Frustrated with her progress, she continued searching through each purse. Nuilley frantically fished through the final purse in her closet...

Brielle’s Breath

The hospital staff treated me as if I were a hardened criminal of the worst kind. I had no idea why. Shortly after awakening from seven long days of being in a coma, and with no recent memories, I’d discovered that terrorists had attacked Paris. Perhaps the staff believed I was one too. They treated me as if I were. But they didn’t come out and call me one to my face; instead they made vague accusations, refused to answer my questions and cast speculative glances at me while they whispered behind my back. I soon discovered I was a patient in the mental ward of the hospital and had become an unofficial prisoner because I couldn’t remember what had happened to me.

My doctor believed I was hiding my true identity and impersonating a woman who happened to have shared the same name, same rare blood type, and also happened to have been the same age as me. If that wasn’t enough, the woman had been murdered six months ago. What were the chances of that? Under the circumstances, and if I hadn’t known any better, I would’ve believed that I’d stolen her identity too. I was sure there was a logical explanation for this. More likely,
she
had stolen
my
identity. The entire ordeal was outlandish, but plausible, I supposed.

The biggest problem was that I’d had no identification on me when I was found, and no family in Paris to verify who I was. My few friends and acquaintances were also MIA.

The hospital staff’s theory regarding me—of whom I was or wasn’t—was totally bizarre. I would attribute the huge mix-up and a lot of miscommunication to the language barrier between their French dialect, and my English one. And then, add the amnesia to the pot and you get one totally fucked up soup.

This had to be the cause of their misconceptions of me; I reasoned out all other explanations. I insistently told them that it was absurd to peg me as a terrorist. It was almost laughable. I was an author and had never held a real weapon in my life. Anything I said in my own defense only caused their suspicions to increase—like Miracle Gro on a houseplant.

The staff’s strange behavior made me fear that I was in a shit-load of trouble, and that’s not a good place for one to be, especially when visiting a foreign country. So far, I had no idea how I’d ended up in a hospital in the first place. My family and friends had no inkling of my whereabouts because the terrorist attack had knocked out all the phone service across the city, including cell phones. Thank God, the staff didn’t know I had mine in my possession and tucked away for later use when the service was restored. That was my plan.

My most immediate fear was of a nurse named Jane. That was her real name—in her case, there’s no sense protecting the innocent because she was purely guilty. She looked and behaved all sweet and fuzzy on the outside, but she didn’t fool me. She proved to be a demented bunny rabbit, but I had no way of proving it.

After hours of arguing with my doctor, defending my true identity and realizing I was getting nowhere, I finally blew my top and screamed at everyone to get the hell out of my room so I could get dressed and go home. Dr. Tagorski’s response to this was a shot in my arm to “calm my hysterics.” Jane waited until everyone else was gone, and then she snuck back into my room and gave me another walloping dose of sodium pentothal.

Her sinister plan was to blame my death on Nurse Katharine, whom she despised. You see, Jane fancied herself in love with a man who was evidently in love with Nurse Katharine. And Dr. Tagorski, my psychiatrist, was that man. Comparatively, he was this hospital’s equivalent of George Clooney’s Dr. Doug Ross on the old TV show,
ER.

To Jane’s surprise—and mine, once I’d realized what had happened—I somehow managed to survive her attempt to kill me. Holy fuck, was this really happening? It was and it did!

Fortunately Jane’s botched plan blew up in her face. Sort of. I let Jane know I was on to her. All in good time, I aimed to prove that she attempted to murder me and planned to blackmail Nurse Katharine. Jane was an evil woman and didn’t care about anyone. To her, I was essentially a disposable nobody. Ironically, a Jane Doe. No loss to anyone. Yet in some way, I was also an asset, a means to Nurse Jane’s desperate end. I’d become a pawn in her master plan. Since the attempt on my life, I determined to sleep with one eye open.

To top off the worst day of my life, there was a glimmer of hope. Shortly after I’d come to, I could have sworn I’d seen Greyson Rain de’ Bluche, the man of my dreams, standing in the doorway of my room. Seeing Rain would’ve been a miracle in itself.
If it were Rain, certainly he would’ve rescued me. That I held on to...

-1-

Between Heaven and Hell

The days blurred into one long nightmare, I was caught somewhere between Heaven and Hell, causing major conflicts and extreme emotions. Endless. Sleepless nights left me empty handed, dreaming of and haunted by a man I barely knew.

Bits and pieces of the visions restored feelings of a strong love, existing somewhere in time, between Rain and me.

I tried to hold on to every aspect of my dreams when I woke up. Were the dreams premonitions, signs, or suppressed memories of actual events that I had chosen to forget?

Vague memories of Rain lingered in the shadows of my mind and shook me to the deepest part of my soul. In the dreams he hovered over me like a bright light pulling me into him. His fingers caressed me, healing the brokenness within my body by the second. In his presence, I felt my strength returning. It all felt so real. His face near to me, he whispered, “It’s time.” As he pulled back from me his eyes narrowed, intensely scrutinizing every thought and emotion that flickered across my face. His tongue peeked out a hint along the corner of his mouth. I drew in a shaky breath, crossing my arms to shield myself from his intense gaze. The light faded within him. Instantly, the vision of him blurred.

I saw myself running down a dark alley. Reaching the end, my hand was on a doorknob; it was cold beneath my fingers and creaked slightly as I turned it. I opened it slowly fearing what was on the other side. In a flash Rain stood strong before me. He was smiling down at me now. What was he smiling about? A rush of fear bubbled up my throat, nearly choking me. Something dark pressed behind him, moved in on us, and then in a flash his smile faded into an expression of pain.

“
Don’t go,” I gasped.

His soulful dark eyes pleaded, insistently warning me. “Don’t let them take your memories of me away.” His words grew hoarse and cracked, as if he was choking on them, and then he disappeared into the dark chasm of nothingness.

In my sleep I heard the hollow din of my voice crying out, awakening me from the nightmare. “You’re a ghost to me now,” I said in horror out loud. The words stung against my tongue. I knew something terrible had happened to Rain, and feared I’d never see him again. I wanted to scream and cry at the unfairness of it all.

The same dream returned night after night. The thin line between my dreams and reality broke. Every time I woke up there he was, not physically, but as if he were a ghost haunting my now awakened state. I convinced myself that the dreams and why I’d lost my memory was that he had now passed on and I couldn’t face it anymore. His returning to me as a ghost was just my own wishful thinking that he was still with me, and somehow guiding me. The thought of this comforted me. I tried to make cohesive connections between what was real and what were only vivid dreams. Still, in denial of reality, I couldn’t accept that he was gone. Gone! All of what was happening to me could have been post traumatic stress, as the doctor said, and that I was in denial of the truth, which lay dormant in my mind. I wouldn’t accept Rain was gone. Not until I had a real breakthrough, one that would not be discussed with or validated by
any
doctor. I had to figure this out on my own. In the interim of my lost memories I chose to convince myself the overabundance of drugs I’d been given were what so clearly manifested the images I had of him. I was certain Rain was fine and searching for me. Although, the reality of my greatest fear coming true started soaking in...

Soft Rain

The sound of faint water trickled down the cavern’s rocks. Rain stood on the edge of the crystal blue water, waiting for a sign. His head hung low.

“Where could she have gone?” he whispered to himself.

“
Greyson?” a female asked, her voice echoing in the darkness.

There was only one person whom still addressed him by his birth name. Rain turned swiftly to face the woman. “Mother, you startled me.”

“I’m sorry, Son.”

“
It’s alright. I’m glad you’re here, I need your help finding Brielle.”

“
I’ve done all I could. All this sneaking around is tough on my spirit.”

“
Somehow I have a feeling you love it,” he replied with the tiniest of grins gently lifting one corner of his lips. “Mother, time is short. I’m worried...I can’t just wait here doing nothing. The gateway is closing fast.” A glint of concern lurked in his gray eyes, but he held his emotions steady. “I don’t feel her as I once did...”