Huh, strange.
My eyes dropped to his shirt. I had to admit, I was surprised to see a vamp that high up on the totem pole dressed so casually.
In an attempt to break the ice, I said, “Nice shirt.”
His fingers halted on the keys. His sunglass-covered eyes lifted to mine, and in a whiskey-deep voice that made my belly flutter, he asked, “You don’t like my shirt?”
I shrugged. “It’s okay, if you’re an AC/DC fan. I’m more of a Zeppelin or Eagles kind of girl, although, I’m not opposed to listening to something harder.” Still not getting a read on him, I went with a more direct approach. “You must be Tobias.” I held out my hand. “I’m Diana Duvail.”
A moment passed before he extended his arm across the center aisle. The instant our hands touched, I realized my mistake. He’d been shielding. With just a touch of a hand, he was inside me. Like a tidal wave, he poured through me. He was everywhere—filling me up, breaking me down, inside my head, and infiltrating my deepest parts. He was day, night, light, dark, the thoughts in my head, and the air in my lungs; he was all-consuming. I could hear his heart beating, could feel the blood pumping through his veins. His desires were mine, and my fears became his. We were two people, yet one being. I didn’t know where he ended, and I began, and I needed it to stop. I needed to let go, but I didn’t know how. Infused with panic, my lips parted on a silent scream. I was forgetting something. What was it? Tymon’s face popped into my head, and suddenly, I remembered. Teeth gritted, I dug deep for my shields. Up they went, and it was unlike anything I’d been able to produce before. It was an impenetrable steel wall, not just in my head, but my entire body. The connection between us was instantly severed, and a blinding pain burned through me, the loss so excruciating that it felt as if my insides were being ripped from my body.
I must have passed out because when I came to, we were parked outside SVO headquarters. Carl was no longer in the car, and a frazzled-looking Tobias was hovering over me. Dark eyes fringed with coal-black eyelashes stared down at me with concern.
“What happened?” I croaked.
“I’m not sure.”
He was lying. I hit him with an angry glare. “Look, Toby, I’m pretty sure your master would be most unhappy to learn that you mind-raped me, so I’ll ask you one more time, “What the hell just happened?”
He sighed as if I was a giant pain in his ass. “You wanted a connection. I dropped my shields. I’m sorry, I didn’t expect that to happen.”
I thought about it for a second and decided to believe him. Glancing around, I asked, “What happened to Carl?”
“I sent him away.”
We stared at each other, his obsidian eyes burning through me, and I had the urge to sink my fingers in his thick hair and taste those dangerously dark lips.
Are you okay to move?” he asked. Thankfully, one of us was still holding onto a thread of self-control.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I lied.
We exited the car and I followed after him on shaky legs. A silver-haired man greeted us at the door. I placed him in his mid-fifties to early sixties. I lowered my shields just enough to get a feel for him. Tiny little ants skittered up my spine. Yep, he’s a vampire, and from the feel of it, an old one. Not as old as Lenora, but close.
The man’s eyes locked on Tobias. If I didn’t know better, I could swear they were talking to each other. Vampires couldn’t mind speak, could they? I made a mental note to ask Tymon about it later.
“Please show Miss Duvail to the office,” Tobias ordered. Without so much as a glance in my direction, he turned and walked out of the room. My stupid heart twinged as I watched him walk away. I blamed it on vampire voodoo because there was no way in hell I had feelings for the man.
“This way, Miss Duvail. Can I offer you some coffee or tea?” the elderly vampire asked.
“Uh, no, I’m fine, thanks.” I followed him down a long hallway and into a large, very lush office. One end held a library with built-in, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a fireplace, and a sitting area. On the other sat a massive wooden desk with two comfortable-looking armchairs resting