Blood Assassin (The Sentinels #2)(11)

Kaede touched the knife hidden beneath his shirt. The enforcer could filet a grown man in under three minutes.

“You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Do I have a choice?”

Kaede moved toward the door. “I wish to God you did.”

“So do I,” Bas muttered, reaching into his pocket to pull out a small photo of a silvery blond-haired, bronze-eyed girl with a smile that could light the world. “I’m coming, Molly.”

Beneath the fog that clouded her mind, Serra understood that something was terribly wrong.

She was supposed to be enjoying a night of mindless fun with Arel, wasn’t she?

But even as she tried to clear her thoughts, she couldn’t battle the overwhelming urge to get into her vehicle and speed through the night. She didn’t know where she was going, or why she was going there. She just knew that she couldn’t stop.

Her confusion only deepened as she hit the outskirts of St. Louis and drove straight downtown.

She’d visited the area before, but not enough to have navigated with such ease through narrow back streets until she was pulling into an underground parking lot. It was as if she was deliberately choosing a route that would throw off anyone trying to track her.

It was creepy as hell.

Pulling to a halt in the nearly empty lot, she crawled out of her SUV and stood as still as a mannequin until a slender, dark-haired man appeared from the shadows and led her toward an elevator hidden in a dark alcove.

Her teeth clenched, sweat beaded her forehead as she desperately struggled to organize her muddled thoughts. This wasn’t right. She didn’t know this man or why she was so easily allowing herself to be herded into the steel-lined elevator that whisked them toward the top floor, but her instincts were screaming in warning.

There was a faint shudder beneath her feet as the elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open. Then, while she struggled to breathe, the man beside her grasped her elbow and led her through a small reception room and into an elegant office.

If she’d been thinking clearly, she might have admired the minimalist vibe of the black and white room. And she most certainly would have been charmed by the impressive view of St. Louis revealed by the bank of windows.

Instead her restless gaze continued to scan the massive office until she was shoved onto a low, leather chair and a stranger was crouching down until they were face-to-face.

Her first thought was that he was handsome.

Dark hair slicked from a lean, clean-cut face. Light brown eyes and surprisingly full lips.

Her second thought was that there was a callous ruthlessness etched onto his pale features.

An icy fear trickled down her spine.

“Welcome, Ms. Vetrov,” he murmured, his velvet tone disguising the power of his magic that wrapped around her. “Can you hear me?”

She gave a jerky nod. “Yes.”

“Good girl.” His voice soothed, even as it tightened something deep inside her. “I want you to think back.”

“Okay.”

“Do you remember leaving Valhalla?”

She frowned. The memory was fuzzy, but it was there. “Yes.”

“Did you tell anyone you were going to come here?”

It took a second before she shook her head. “No.”

“Did anyone try to stop you from leaving?”

“No.”

“Excellent.” He leaned forward, the scent of his expensive cologne teasing at her nose. “Did you speak to anyone after you left? Maybe on your cell phone?”

Had she? She had a vague suspicion that she’d heard her phone ring more than once, but she hadn’t answered.

“I haven’t spoken to anyone,” she assured the stranger, reaching up to lightly touch the man’s face. Was he real? Or was he just a part of an ongoing nightmare? “Do I know you?”

“I’m Bas.”

Bas. She allowed the name to seep through her mind. When it didn’t strike any bells of recognition she gave a shake of her head.

“I don’t understand what I’m doing here,” she muttered.

“All will be explained, but first.” He turned to wave a hand toward the silent man standing a few feet away. “Leave us.”

“You’re sure?” the man demanded, making Serra wonder if he was some sort of security guard.

He didn’t look very big, but she’d been around enough Sentinels to know that size rarely mattered.

“Make certain we’re not interrupted,” Bas commanded.

There was a tense silence before the man grudgingly left the room and shut the door, leaving Serra alone with the stranger.

Another tingle of fear inched down her spine as Bas lifted a slender hand and gently touched the side of her neck.

There was a weird pop, as if a bubble had just burst inside her brain. And just like that . . . the fog that had been clogging her thought process was suddenly gone.

Serra blinked. And blinked again.

Then with a hiss of fury she was on her feet, glaring at the bastard who slowly straightened to watch the heat of embarrassment crawl beneath her cheeks.

She’d been mind-f*cked.

Her.

Serra Vetrov.

One of the most powerful psychics in the world.

She didn’t know whether to crawl into the corner and hide in shame or use her skill to crush the bastard’s brains.