Out of the Dark (The Brethren Series) Read Online Free
Author: Sara Reinke
human he’d sensed earlier inside the clinic—this woman was like him— a Brethren . Not only that, but he could see now that she was stunning, with elegant features, chocolate-colored skin and dark hair worn closely cropped to her scalp. For some reason, she appeared to be barefooted but wearing a cocktail dress, the gold, shimmery kind that showed off generous amounts of both cleavage and legs. As he looked her in the eyes, he was struck with the most peculiar notion that he knew her, though for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how or from where.
A ll at once, like the knife, Aaron found himself flying backwards, as if unseen hands had grasped him fast and flung him hard, sending him crashing into the far wall. He hit with enough force to feel the drywall beneath him crunch at the impact. For a long, impossible moment, that invisible grasp held him, the air around him seemingly collapsed, pressed tautly against him.
Brows furrowed, he locked his gaze—and his mind—on the woman, converging all of his psionic energy the way a magnifying lens will focus a broad shaft of sunlight into a narrow, potent beam. Like this spear of light could then have devastating effect, at least if you were an ant in its path, so, too, could Aaron use this single, concentrated telepathic force. Like an epileptic seizure, it caused a sudden firestorm of neural-electrical energy to surge through the woman’s brain. She cried out sharply, her entire body jerking in violent, spastic reaction, and the crushing sensation that held him pinned to the wall was abruptly gone.
Freed from its grip, Aaron dropped to his feet. The woman had crumpled to the ground and lay in a shadow-draped, shuddering heap, the last convulsions shaking her slim form.
“ Sorry about that,” he said, his voice shaky and hoarse. “You didn’t leave me much choice.”
H e went to her side, leaning over long enough to press his fingertips against the slope of her neck and feel her pulse. Her skin was soft and warm, her heart beat fluttering, but palpable. Again, he couldn’t shake the idea that he’d seen her before— knew her somehow—but even now, seeing her close up, he couldn’t place her face.
Did I know her from before the accident? he wondered.
In the year 1815, he’d been thrown from his horse, shattering his skull. He remembered the date quite well—October 12, his mother’s birthday. According to his older brother Julien, the accident had occurred shortly after a party Lamar had hosted at their clan’s great house to celebrate.
“I think you must have imbibed a bit too much brandy,” Julien had once remarked with a laugh. “You were always a fairly adept horseman, Az, but have never been able to hold your booze.”
After the accident, Aaron had languished in a coma for more than a year. When he’d come to, he’d forgotten how to speak. He’d forgotten everything, in fact, his entire body and mind reduced to the level of a newborn infant. It had taken him years to recover, decades in fact, but even now, there were large parts of his past that Aaron simply could not recall. He hadn’t lived in Kentucky after that, but instead, in the city of Boston, surrounded night and day by a staff of physicians, nurses, nannies and tutors—all of them human. To that day, with the exception of his brother, Julien, and father, Lamar, had seen no other Brethren like himself. Least of all a woman.
“Who are you?” he whispered, caressing her cheek, fascinated and bewildered.
From behind him, he heard the soft, nearly imperceptible whisper of feet against the tile floor and realized what he’d forgotten—or rather, who ; the human, Karen Pierce. The Brethren woman had distracted him—so beautiful, fierce and somehow familiar. He’d lost his focus and had about a millisecond to chide himself for the careless oversight.
Stupid, he thought. Stupid, stu—
Then, with a whistle of wind, and a soft grunt as she put all of her weight into the
A ll at once, like the knife, Aaron found himself flying backwards, as if unseen hands had grasped him fast and flung him hard, sending him crashing into the far wall. He hit with enough force to feel the drywall beneath him crunch at the impact. For a long, impossible moment, that invisible grasp held him, the air around him seemingly collapsed, pressed tautly against him.
Brows furrowed, he locked his gaze—and his mind—on the woman, converging all of his psionic energy the way a magnifying lens will focus a broad shaft of sunlight into a narrow, potent beam. Like this spear of light could then have devastating effect, at least if you were an ant in its path, so, too, could Aaron use this single, concentrated telepathic force. Like an epileptic seizure, it caused a sudden firestorm of neural-electrical energy to surge through the woman’s brain. She cried out sharply, her entire body jerking in violent, spastic reaction, and the crushing sensation that held him pinned to the wall was abruptly gone.
Freed from its grip, Aaron dropped to his feet. The woman had crumpled to the ground and lay in a shadow-draped, shuddering heap, the last convulsions shaking her slim form.
“ Sorry about that,” he said, his voice shaky and hoarse. “You didn’t leave me much choice.”
H e went to her side, leaning over long enough to press his fingertips against the slope of her neck and feel her pulse. Her skin was soft and warm, her heart beat fluttering, but palpable. Again, he couldn’t shake the idea that he’d seen her before— knew her somehow—but even now, seeing her close up, he couldn’t place her face.
Did I know her from before the accident? he wondered.
In the year 1815, he’d been thrown from his horse, shattering his skull. He remembered the date quite well—October 12, his mother’s birthday. According to his older brother Julien, the accident had occurred shortly after a party Lamar had hosted at their clan’s great house to celebrate.
“I think you must have imbibed a bit too much brandy,” Julien had once remarked with a laugh. “You were always a fairly adept horseman, Az, but have never been able to hold your booze.”
After the accident, Aaron had languished in a coma for more than a year. When he’d come to, he’d forgotten how to speak. He’d forgotten everything, in fact, his entire body and mind reduced to the level of a newborn infant. It had taken him years to recover, decades in fact, but even now, there were large parts of his past that Aaron simply could not recall. He hadn’t lived in Kentucky after that, but instead, in the city of Boston, surrounded night and day by a staff of physicians, nurses, nannies and tutors—all of them human. To that day, with the exception of his brother, Julien, and father, Lamar, had seen no other Brethren like himself. Least of all a woman.
“Who are you?” he whispered, caressing her cheek, fascinated and bewildered.
From behind him, he heard the soft, nearly imperceptible whisper of feet against the tile floor and realized what he’d forgotten—or rather, who ; the human, Karen Pierce. The Brethren woman had distracted him—so beautiful, fierce and somehow familiar. He’d lost his focus and had about a millisecond to chide himself for the careless oversight.
Stupid, he thought. Stupid, stu—
Then, with a whistle of wind, and a soft grunt as she put all of her weight into the
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