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-fucked.
Her.
Serra Vetrov.