As I Fade (One Breath at a Time: Book 1)

J.R. Rain Presents

AS I FADE

One Breath at a Time

Book 1

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
, 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
High School Witch

Other Books by Leilani Bennett

ONE BREATH AT A TIME

As I Fade

As I Breathe (coming soon)

As I Fall (coming soon)

As I Love (coming soon)

SCREENPLAY

False Dichotomy

As I Fade

Published by J.R. Rain Press

Copyright © 2013 by Leilani Bennett

Cover created by iDesign-eCovers at [email protected]

All Rights Reserved.

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.

Dedication

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. To the loving man in my life...Patrick, you have weaved your heart into mine. Thank you for supporting me, and putting up with me falling into this story for all the wee hours of the night...To My Parents, Shirley Dorsey and loving memory of my father Darryl Dorsey. Thank you for your unconditional love.

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

To Chyrel my editor, thank you for believing in my creativity and putting your outstanding Midas touch and words to this story. You have been such an angel; especially, considering the serendipitous way that you were brought into my life. I truly believe you were meant to be an integral part of this team by bringing this series to fruition. Thanks for the wonderful (and long!) conversations, your keen input in seeing the bigger picture, and particularly your enthusiasm and dedication to making this possible. You are truly a godsend, and have allowed me to let my creativity flow without concerns of editing as I go. I appreciate your insight in that you are one to not change the essence of my expression but use your innate voice to adapt to mine and smooth out what I wanted to say effectively. As I have told you many times, you are simply amazing! You exceed my expectation on all levels of editing from a line editor to a story editor who has taking a vested interest in making sure it’s a work of perfection without any holes in the story line. If so, you take the initiative bringing any storyline gaffes to my attention. I love that you go that extra mile in terms of details. If I were Holmes I have found my Watson! It’s my honor to work with an editor of your talent, education and work ethic.

Acknowledgments

A very special thanks to J.R. Rain. You have been my greatest inspiration, mentor and best friend a girl could have. You are the one who definitely kicked my butt into high gear when I wanted to give up! When it comes to thanking you, there are not enough words to say how grateful I am. You have given me something that is priceless, by believing in me and that I could do this...without you in my life, well, let’s not go there, or there will be tear stains on the pages of this (if it were paper). I believe you know what you mean to me.

To my confidante, Elaine...Thanks for reading my story and all your feedback and encouragement! I’m so glad you are loving it!

To my all my beautiful sisters and girlfriends whom have been the best of muses; you have all given me colorful material and ideas to weave into my fictional characters. I love you all in no certain order: My sisters Alena Dorsey, Laura Dorsey and Victoria Dorsey, and I must mention my brothers Darryl and Brett. Beverly Markunas Pfab, Pam Keeling, Sharon Knighton and Jill Kersey four of my lifetime BFF’s...and as close as friends can be. Jan Dimofski, Jackie Blaze, Karen Kevorkian aka KK, Sally Sayh, Maria Cecilli Crust, and, Marianna Felice, Ria Cantrell—and, although he’s not a girl friend but a close friend, Bobby Freeman...love you too!

Thanks to Charlie Bennett, I have the greatest appreciation and respect for you. You are the best ex-husband a girl could have! I’m glad we have remained the closest of friends. Thanks!

Jacquelyn Prado, my first editor you are truly a special young woman and dear to me. Follow your dreams. As you know, I have told you so many times, an author may have the gift of storytelling, but when they put it to paper it takes a great editor to make it worth telling and reading! Thanks so much!

Thanks to all of you who have dedicated your time by reading the first edits—especially my darling sister, Victoria Dee Dorsey, dear friend, Jill Kersey and, of course, Sandra Hylton.

A very special thanks to Eve Paludan for seeing the potential in my novel after reading the “very raw” first draft. Thanks for your direction, time and offering words of encouragement to develop the story further.

If I have forgotten anyone, know that you are in my heart. May all your dreams come true! Love me!

As I Fade

“When a connection is broken, the universe finds a way to bring you back to your destiny.
”

—
Leilani Bennett

One Night in Paris

2012

He contemplates his existence...Hell on Earth is the price he pays for his sin.

In a single lifetime I’ve endured enough sadness to span an eternity. My days were uneventful and time seemed to last forever...until that fateful
night when she arrived at the brownstone. The first moment my eyes fell upon
her
I recognized who she was.

Since that moment, I no longer suffer as I once had. I love her face. I love her heart. I’ve loved her for the longest time, and I want so much to tell her.

My days and nights are devoted to her. The love of my life, Brielle Eden is the object of my desire and the reason I exist. Yet she is unaware of my presence.

She moved to Paris to start her new life and to find the love of her life...allowing love to come to her.

To know the eyes of the one I love, to see them pull away from mine, and to fall to the floor is now the greatest torment I have ever endured. The pain cloaks over me like the darkness of Hell. It is like missing the one who is dead, yet they live on without you.

I remain hidden in the dark corners, veiled from the light. If she were to see me through my shroud—
broken—
I may lose any chance to redeem the love we once shared. It is becoming difficult to stay concealed and out of sight. Already, I have broken many boundaries into her world. Yet, it has been worth the risk to capture mere glimpses of her beauty.

I have discovered her days are consumed with getting things done, making trips to the university and running errands. I linger behind, following in her footsteps as she runs to and fro around the city. She spends her leisure time at the local café, enjoying lattes and reading. She loves books. Mysteries and love stories with happy endings are some of her favorites.

When she stops to peek at the treasures displayed in the windows of antique shops and bookstores, I connect with her bright eyes in the reflection of the glass. Her pupils dilate with the excitement of anticipation as if as if she has spotted something she has lost. If only it were me...

In the evenings, she writes.

I study her from afar as she sits for hours in front of a thin-flat box that contains a plethora of information and moving objects. They appear out of nowhere. Everywhere she goes she carries her “Apple” around with her. That is what she calls the little black box. It seems to please her and makes her laugh out loud. Her long thin fingers fly over the letters, and words rapidly appear. It’s like magic and reminds me of my old electronic typewriter with the exception of the flat screen that lights up her words. Everything she touches is like magic to me.

She appears to be as lonely as I am. Faraway thoughts dance in her eyes as she stares into the night. Her eyes are inquisitive, turned upward, seeking out the twinkles of the lights above and the glow of the moon. Stargazing seems to comfort her.

At times, I hear her soft cries in the night. I long to soothe her fears and wipe away her tears. However, I resist the light and the one who keeps me anchored to all that I desire. I fear...if I were to reveal myself, she would run from me. I cannot risk losing her again as I have many times before. This is the darkest plight of my being, and so I regard her space from afar.

I am in awe of her beauty, from her iridescent blue eyes down to her painted red toenails. I know the exact number of long, luscious lashes that fan out against her cheeks as she peacefully sleeps. I wonder: does she dream of me?

I have yet to trace my fingers along the soft angles of her profile, across her forehead, to the tilt of her turned-up nose, against the curve of her moist full lips—furthermore, down the length of her body. Her features are that of an angel. She is my angel. I have forever longed to kiss her crimson-colored lips as I once had. Yet, I forgo my desires.

I have stolen private moments, watching her when she doesn’t know that I am there. My eyes know the line of her silhouette, and the way her bare curves fade into the shadows where the light does not caress them. Do I find shame in this? Can’t say I do.

The basis of my love goes deeper than her physical attributes. Yes, Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty has blessed her with delicate marks scattered over her fair skin; although I know each and every one, it is her inner soul that so fiercely attracts me.

The sight of her makes me smile. Her clumsy little quirks: fidgeting, knotting her fingers together, biting her lips, and the fact that she can’t sit still are all traits that make her that much more precious, lovely and real. To me...she is a dichotomy of perfect balance. She moves with grace, but sometimes trips over her own two feet. I want to reach out to catch her from falling. Still, I refrain.

It’s a sight to behold when her blond hair tangles in the wind, resembling rippling banners of spun silk. Sometimes when she passes by, I brush my fingers across the ends. When she feels my energy, she jumps and turns towards me. Her eyes alight taking my breath away. Reacting purely on instinct, she withdraws from me. Once again, my intangible touch causes goose bumps to spread across her skin, raising the sheer hairs on her arms. I then recoil.

When she is fearful of the dark, I assure her in some small way that I am near; her sentry keeping watch. My concern is—I may be the cause of her fear. I am torn, albeit, if I reveal myself...will she embrace who I am or run from the likes of me?

She is a breath that I can capture, but one I cannot release. I am tortured. Hell on Earth
is
the price of my sin.

For now, I am surrounded by darkness, watching and waiting for the daylight to arrive. Will she notice me then? That would be my finest dream come true.

-1-

Barely Breathing

March 2013

Brielle Eden

I wove my way through the crowded sidewalks of Paris. It was a day of two extremes: sunny skies above and cold winds below. The sky looked like springtime with white puffy clouds lazing about, yet it was so bitter cold I could see my breath escaping me like a dark secret had just been released: one that could have been trapped inside of me for decades. Ironically, like the weather, my black and white ways of thinking were dueling it out too.