Falling Blind: The Sentinel Wars by Shannon K. Butcher Read Free Book Online Page A

looking like she’d just opened a shiny new toy. Logan was clearly trying to take that toy away, and Cain kept a tight grip on Rory’s hand like she was going to float away if he let go.
    Rory wanted to mind. She wanted to be pissed off, because that was a lot easier to deal with than all of this unsettling, sappy, tingling nonsense.
    Cain rose to his feet in one graceful move. He held on to her hand, his thick fingers laced between hers. In one easy lift, he set her on the edge of the gurney.
    He didn’t back away, though she could see his body tense as if he was getting ready for her to kick him in the balls or something.
    “You need to let go of her,” said Logan.
    “I know,” said Cain in a tone that warned Logan to back off. “I’m working on it.”
    “Do it slowly. I’ll do what I can to ease the pain.”
    “Pain? Will one of you please explain what the hell is happening here?”
    “In a moment,” said Logan as he grabbed Cain’s wrist. “Just hold still.”
    “Ease hers,” said Cain. “Last time we stopped touching, it hurt her, too.”
    “Interesting,” said Logan, and then he looked at Rory like she were a new and intriguing puzzle for his amusement.
    She almost told him that it wasn’t pain she felt, but if she’d done that, she would have had to tell them about the visions, and she wasn’t about to do that. She didn’t know these people. She didn’t trust them. Even though she and Hope had been through something horrible together, that didn’t mean Rory was ready to be BFFs.
    Logan laid his hand on her forehead, and she flinched away from his touch. His fingers were slender and cool, not at all like Cain’s. She didn’t like the way Logan’s hand felt on her. It was . . . wrong somehow, like a kind of betrayal she couldn’t understand.
    “I won’t hurt you,” said Logan. “Just relax.”
    She had no intention of doing any such thing, but a second later, she felt her tension drain away. She sat there on the edge of the bed, swaying and content. Even knowing that whatever he’d done to her was fake, she couldn’t find the energy to care.
    Cain took several deep breaths like he was about to go free diving, and then eased his grip on her hand. His fingers loosened and slid between hers, inching away. She was sure he hadn’t meant it to be a caress, but she felt it all the way to her curling toes. Those heated vibrations trickling into her wherever he touched seemed to cling, wrapping around the tips of her fingers. She swayed toward him, eager to deepen the contact again, but he continued to back away, keeping just enough distance between them that she couldn’t make any headway.
    Finally, after she was gripping the edge of the gurney to keep from lunging toward him and getting more contact with his skin—wherever she could find it—the slightest bit of his index finger was still in contact with hers.
    Electricity arced between them, so intense she swore she could hear it crackle. There was something precious and powerful in that tiny contact—a promise of something she didn’t understand, but yearned to possess all the same. She recognized the power, as if a piece of her had been chopped off at birth, only to return to her now in this form.
    It was hers and she wanted it.
    He broke away, and all thoughts of power were crushed from her head. The relentless stream of images was there, waiting for her, ready to strike. Within seconds, she was completely blinded by the flood of lights and colors that did not belong. Never before had it been this bad. Not even in the daytime. There were too many sights. She couldn’t absorb them all.
    The flow of images nauseated her. Her head spun. She held on to the bed, but even that solid support did nothing to pin her in place.
    She tried not to panic, but terror was clawing at her, tearing at her resolve until it lay in tattered shreds. She had no control, nowhere to hide. All she could do was sit here while the visions slammed into her,