With Every Breath (Slow Burn 4)

If it hadn’t been for Caleb hunting down Ramie, a gifted young psychic, and giving her no choice but to aid in his search for his sister, they wouldn’t have rescued Tori in time and she would have died.

All the women were gifted with extraordinary powers. Tori had dreams of future events, though of all the women, her gift was not as fully developed or focused as the others. Her gift was more of a curse, giving her glimpses, but without enough knowledge revealed, she was helpless to prevent the events or even warn anyone they were in danger, and it was a source of great torment to her. Ramie could track the same kind of monster Eliza now found herself about to track. But Eliza would never pit Ramie against a man who was likely every bit as psychically gifted as Ramie was herself. Ari had enormous power, a lot that hadn’t even been tapped into yet. She grew more powerful all the time and as she learned to control it, she would be an unstoppable force. And Gracie . . . Eliza winced again, because it wasn’t the other two she avoided like the plague. Only Gracie because Gracie could read minds and Eliza couldn’t chance being in close proximity to her because if she read Eliza’s mind, it would be all over and Eliza wouldn’t allow that to happen.

Eliza aimlessly drove in the direction of her apartment, stopping at a drive-thru to get lunch though her heart wasn’t into eating, but she had to keep her strength up. She couldn’t be weak when she faced off against Thomas. Weak physically or emotionally.

Her lunch laying unopened in the bag in the passenger seat, she pulled into her parking spot and when she saw the vehicle next to her and the man standing arrogantly in front of the expensive car, leaning against the hood, her mood went from bad to worse.

What the hell was Wade Sterling doing here?

Her lunch forgotten, she climbed out of her car and slammed the door with unnecessary force, a scowl already forming on her face. To her further annoyance, Wade only smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he took in her reaction to his presence.

Deciding that acknowledging him would be far worse than asking him what he was doing here, she clutched her keys and stalked around to the front of her vehicle and started to walk by him without a word. Her “welcoming” expression could do the talking for her.

To her utter shock, as she was nearly past him, a hand suddenly gripped her elbow, stopping her in her tracks. She narrowed her eyes, pasting her most ferocious snarl on her lips, and rounded furiously on him.

“What the fuck is your problem, Sterling? Take your hand off me. Now.”

“Is that any way to express gratitude to the man who saved your life?” he drawled.

She wanted to scream. No one and she meant no one knew how to push her buttons like this man did. But then his mere presence was a huge button. Anytime he opened his mouth, instant push of her many buttons. And the arrogant pull of his lips, all that alpha superiority and smugness? Every single button she had was pushed simultaneously.

She actually growled at him. Or rather it was a combination of a vicious sounding snarl and a throaty growl of frustration. She was tempted to do something incredibly childish and decidedly un-Eliza like, such as stomp her foot, pull her hair out by the roots or throw the mother of all hissy fits. God, she didn’t have time for this bullshit today! They had successfully—and mutually—avoided each other ever since the incident he’d just referred to, one that Eliza would prefer to just forget all together. Saved her life, her ass! If he hadn’t been there, and if she hadn’t been so goddamn busy trying to make sure his dumb civilian ass didn’t get shot then she would have never nearly taken a fatal bullet. One that he’d taken for her instead, and it chapped her ass that apparently he thought she should be on her knees in gratitude for taking a bullet that was his own goddamn fault! Mutual avoidance had been working just fine, so what the hell was he doing at her apartment. And why?

Sure there had been a few times when being in the same room had been unavoidable. Zack and Gracie’s wedding for one. And on those few occasions, Sterling had goaded her mercilessly. First he’d called her a coward and accused her of hiding from him. Then he had pissed her off to no end by “claiming” a dance with her at the reception, and since she had just so happened to have been giving Zack and Gracie her well wishes in preparation of fleeing the way too happy, gushy, mushy lovefest involving more than the “just married” couple it was in honor of, she couldn’t gracefully—or ungracefully—get out of it. Gracie had seemed delighted and had told Eliza that of course she just had to dance with Wade, after all they were two of her most favorite people in the world.

Eliza had groaned, knowing she’d been royally set up by the bastard. He’d planned it meticulously and had approached her when he damn well knew she couldn’t tell him what to do with his invitation to dance along with a few other choice words that would have singed the hair of most people and embarrassed the radiant bride. It hadn’t, however, stopped her from purposely baiting him the entire time they danced. But he hadn’t responded to her sarcasm, insults or her attempts to get a rise out of him. Instead he’d simply stared at her with smug amusement, those dark eyes peeling back every layer of skin on her. To add insult to injury, he’d held her far closer than necessary, making it appear like they were glued to each other and practically fucking on the dance floor. The only way she’d managed to get through it was by imagining at least a dozen different scenarios in which she separated his balls from his anatomy.

In the end, she’d fled as if the hounds of hell were after her, and damn it, but his laughter had followed her the entire way out. As had his last words: “Little coward.” Something he’d become increasingly in the habit of calling her and the second time he’d hurled it at her that night.

And now as they stood in an apparent standoff, her glaring holes through him and him looking as though he found her hilarious, those images of bodily dismemberment she’d entertained during their dance were even more appealing.

Sterling didn’t even attempt to hide his smile at her growl. His eyes twinkled and then his lips broadened into an honest-to-goodness real smile. She stared at him, momentarily forgetting just how furious she was with him. She was completely flabbergasted by the change to his features. He never smiled. Not really. He’d always done this half smile thing that came out more as a smirk and sometimes as a grimace, depending on his mood. But he’d never, at least not in her sight, actually smiled a broad, teeth-flashing smile that extended all the way up to his eyes. Sweet Jesus but it made him look . . . delicious. She nearly groaned at that betraying thought. Delicious? She needed her head examined. But she couldn’t stop her perusal to save her life.