The next evening, Paradise Lost was open for business. Quinn could hear it from up the street. The pounding beat of electronic music and the chatter of the patrons waiting to enter filled the night air.

She rounded the corner with Wyck, doing her best not to stare at him. He’d changed his appearance tonight, less geek and more hipster, with slim jeans, a black blazer, and suede shoes in place of his usual sneakers. The glasses were the same though. She wasn’t sure why he wore them since he’d told her his vision was perfect—just like the rest of him. She figured maybe it gave him some sense of security, like a part of his armor against the world. Her lab coat served the same function for Quinn. She felt more comfortable, more in her element with it on.

Speaking of her lab, working from his apartment had been okay after all. He’d been surprisingly respectful of her privacy, only asking questions once she’d offered information. After making love last night, she’d been a bit nervous about things being awkward between them, but they hadn’t bee. If anything, she felt more connected and in tune with him now than she had prior.

That was both good and bad.

Good because they’d need to work closely together to get inside the club and find out what they needed. Bad because she felt herself falling for Wyck more and more each day.

The queue to get in the club stretched from the entrance to almost around the corner, but Quinn wasn’t inclined to wait. She ignored the dirty looks of the people in line as she strode toward the entrance. A burly bouncer at the door stopped dead when he caught sight of her. He frowned, lowered the clipboard in his hand, and brought his other hand to the headset in his ear, speaking into the mic rapidly under his breath. She moved closer and caught a hiss of static over the din from inside the club and the man looked away, his expression disconcerted. Quinn would’ve bet money he was warning Sam about her arrival.

Arms crossed, Quinn gave him what she hoped was a sweet, charming smile, but her muscles were tense and she remained ready for a fight. Her weapon was back where it belonged, sheathed beneath her newly repaired lab coat.

The bouncer towered over her, three hundred plus pounds of bulk wrapped in a cheap black suit and topped off with a shaven head. Most people would fear him, but to her he was just another obstacle blocking her path. She’d move him if needed.

Wyck stood steadfast at her back, guarding her.

While glad he gave her room to work and didn’t crowd her, Quinn couldn’t suppress a tiny thrill at the possessiveness in his green-gold gaze. She wasn’t big on jealousy, but knowing he cared was a nice bonus.

The bouncer’s pale gray gaze fixed on her, hard and intimidating. If she didn’t know better, she would have guessed he was part Nephilim with those eyes. But his skin was too tan, and he didn’t much more evolved than the demon they’d encountered the previous night.

Just another bully.

“I need to speak with Samuel Una.” She used the same clipped tone that kept her lab running efficiently. Quinn wasn’t here to make friends, she was here to get answers, so she didn’t much care what this guy thought about her. She pointed toward the Tolbert Labs insignia embroidered on the front pocket of her lab coat, one auburn brow raised.

Usually, any of the employees from the lab could walk into Paradise Lost no questions asked, due to Sam’s mysterious dealings with the sinister club owner and those Nephilim bastards. Rumor had it Satan himself was primary stakeholder in this place. A year ago, Quinn wouldn’t have believed it, but now she’d seen pure evil with her own eyes and didn’t question its existence.

This was Quinn’s first time at Paradise Lost. It was too busy, too sordid, too risky—not knowing what awaited on the other side of the club doors. Tonight however, with Wyck at her back, she felt brave enough to face down any foe.

“Fine.” The bouncer glanced at her lab coat then at Wyck. “Your friend stays outside.”

“Like hell.” She felt the sear of Wyck’s glower over her shoulder, and thunder rumbled ominously through the sky. A quick glance back at him revealed a darkness about him she hadn’t noticed before, sharp as a scalpel. Her Scion wasn’t happy, as evidence by the roiling malevolence roiling off of him toward the bouncer.

Quinn didn’t want to press her luck. She was already playing with fire where he was concerned. He was an immortal warrior, a heaven-sent trained killer. At the thought, the birthmark on her left ribcage flared hot. She’d never really paid much attention to it before. To her, it was just another oddity in a long line of weirdness. But since this morning, the reddish-brown mark—shaped almost like a set of scales—seemed to burn and tingle in response to Wyck’s emotions.

She shook off the errant thoughts and concentrated on her gut instincts instead. Something menacing lurked nearby. Not Wyck, though she felt his leashed fury, held just below the surface, barely restrained.

“No. He stays by my side at all times.” She gave a dismissive wave toward the guy’s headset. “Tell Sam that Quinn from the lab needs a word. Tell him it’s urgent. About our project.”

“Nope. Owners orders.”

Quinn sighed, then grabbed the headset still attached to the guy’s head, yanking him to the side. “Listen, buddy. Either you call Sam, or my friend here will get really cranky. Nobody wants that, trust me. So I’d do as I say, yeah?”

The bouncer hesitated. There was a crackling sound, then a familiar voice came over the headset, loud enough for Quinn to hear.

“Let them in.”

Sam.

She looked up and spotted the security camera mounted on the brick wall above the entrance. “Thank you.”

After releasing the bouncer, they headed through the double doors into the club. Wyck looked baleful, the shadows from the dim interior shrouding his handsome face and seeming to cling to his body, as though he was made from the darkness. His eyes burned bright green-gold in flashing neon signs decorating the walls. Quinn placed her hand on his arm, wishing she touched his skin rather than the soft wool of his blazer. He placed his hand over hers, the tension between them taut.

They hadn’t really talked about what had happened between them last night or waking tangled in each other’s arms this morning. She’d been afraid he’d changed his mind. The way he kept her close now though, as if he’d never let her go, gave her hope.

A kiss would’ve gone a long way toward calming her anxiety and quieten the persistent voice in her mind that was told her he’d never want an uptight, awkward genius like her. He was in her heart now, and he could easily break it.

But now wasn’t the time for affection and endearments.

Now was the time for action.

She led him down a dark hallway toward a set of stairs descending into the club proper. “We need to get lost in the crowds before they change their minds.”

Wyck’s muscles shifted beneath his clothes with each step, reminding her of how good he looked naked and how much she still wanted him. Taking a deep breath, Quinn swept her hair back over her shoulder, tilted her chin up and led him down the stairs into Paradise Lost, her hands shaking from the tension gradually building inside her.

Thankfully she didn’t spot any of the half-breeds amongst the human patrons crowding the dark room, only people having a good time, releasing their inhibitions and embracing a world without consequence, a night of madness and fun to indulge their wicked fantasies.

They weaved through the crowds toward the curved black bar on the right. Brightly lit bottles lined the wall behind it and spotlights in the ceiling changed from white to blue to purple to red, highlighting the bartender.

Quinn nodded to the young woman and ordered two shots of vodka. She turned to find the room gawking at Wyck. Interest ran through the crowd like an electric current, perhaps because they weren’t used to having a six-and-a-half-foot Viking god in their midst. Soon enough, though, most of the patrons returned to their more sordid activities.

She knocked back her shot then held the other one out to Wyck. He refused. Quinn shrugged and downed the second one as well. Liquid courage. Then she pushed away from the bar and moved farther into the club. She needed to find Sam. He was wealthy and well-connected, a target for some of these less-than-savory types. Thus, he surrounded himself with top-notch security at all times.

The exotic dancers on stage flickered in the strobe lights, writhing and grinding. The air stank of stale cigarettes, warm bodies, and cheap perfume. She tried to tear her gaze away from the two women passionately making out center stage, doing her best to remain uninterested in the way they moved against each other, hands cupping and teasing, mouths fused, bare flesh on show. It was erotic, sensual, provocative.

She stood transfixed. Her temperature soared.

The women seemed oblivious to their onlookers. Or maybe they weren’t. Maybe the voyeurism aspect was a turn on. Quinn her attention away at last, only to spot the next couple. Two men this time, their bare torsos brushing, one man’s hands skimming over his partner’s body, still dancing, grinding his butt against the other man’s groin. Soon, a third man joined them, kissing the second man on the lips and caressing his hips.

Quinn swallowed hard, pulse racing. The entire dance floor bordered on becoming an orgy, but not everyone was here for a tumble. There were others with more malevolent intentions prowling the club, ones who were a deadly threat to the innocent humans, if what Wyck had told her about the Nephilim was correct. Her birthmark flared hot against her ribcage.

She scanned the room again and spotted a group of five colleagues from the lab leaning against the bar. They were easy enough to spot in their stuffy black dress shirts and trousers, warily watching the exotic entertainers get off on each other. Not exactly a bunch of lady killers. These men were microbiologists and virologists, hematologists and geneticists. Most had PhDs, some were respected leaders in their fields. All of them, she’d learned, had an ugly side of greed or ambition or both. That’s why they’d been recruited by Tolbert International. They only wanted the best and brightest.

Quinn had once been lured in by their promises of unlimited funding for experimentation and research, but she’d learned the true cost of such choices after she’d denied the Nephilim full access to Project Replenish. She had no idea what they planned to use her immortality gene for, only that it was guaranteed not to be good for humanity.

One colleague, in particular, held her attention The dark-haired man specialized in blood studies to cure many common ailments—hypertension, diabetes, even cancer. What he was really searching for, she knew, was what the world had termed the God Particle. The beginning of all things. She found his discoveries dubious at best, but when Victor Drake asked her out one night for coffee after work, she’d been lonely enough to accept.

Big mistake. He’d done nothing but paw her and had turned out to be nothing but a player. Not the sort of man she wanted in her life.

“Know him?” Wyck asked close to her ear, the sound of his voice reassuring.

Quinn nodded, looking over her shoulder at him. His stern expression slowly changed to concern and he took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers in a show of solidarity. The gesture was so comforting Quinn nearly lost track of their surroundings.

Reality soon returned, however. Power surged through her from the heated mark on her ribcage, escalating until it pounded against her temples. She placed her free hand on the hilt of her knife and turned to face the approaching scientist. She doubted this exchange wouldn’t end up in a fight like the one they’d had in the park the other night, but it was nice to know they were prepared nonetheless.

“New boy toy?” Victor said, his smile at odds with his cruel tone.

“Quinn’s my partner.” Wyck placed his arm around her, his hand resting near her hip.

“Jealous?” She flashed Victor a sticky sweet smile.

The scientist glared at Wyck. Dark crimson dotted his cheeks, highlighted by the red spotlights over the bar. His his sallow skin looked nearly green when the lights switched to blue. Hard to believe she’d once thought this guy was hot. Compared to Wyck, Victor was all sharp edges and jagged lines.

“What are you doing here anyway, Quinn? I thought you were too frigid for a place like this.” Victor smirked, knowing he’d pushed her buttons. She had few friends and even fewer dates. Socializing had always taken a backseat to her work. Nothing mattered to her except ending world hunger. She’d felt driven since childhood to cure famine once and for all.

Quinn blinked, remembering what Wyck had said about the third Seal of the Apocalypse—famine and pestilence. If it was true, and she did harbor this ancient thing inside her, then it would certainly explain her compulsion to feed the world. Her fingers flexed around the hilt of her blade. No one would stop her work—not the Nephilim and certainly not Victor.

“We’ve come for information.” Wyck’s deep voice cut through the fog in Quinn’s head and sent a shiver down her spine. He placed his hands on her shoulders, soothing and steadfast.

Under all Victor’s bluff and bluster, the guy was a coward. That’s why he liked to pick on people he perceived as weaker than himself. Quinn could gut him like a fish in under thirty seconds. Definitely no threat there.

“And here I thought you’d come sniffing around me again. Once you go blood, baby, you never go back.” Victor licked his thin lips and Quinn nearly gagged. “I’m surprised Sam let you in here. You’re like his exalted ice queen or something.”

She hated that everyone thought she was so cold and untouchable. There was nothing wrong with being dedicated to your profession. Besides, it was no one’s business who she slept with or didn’t. Power flared white-hot through her and sudden fury blasted through her reserve. Quick as a wink, she drew her knife and had the tip pressed against Victor’s throat.

“We’re here to see Sam. No more problems from you, Victor.” She nicked his skin and small dot of crimson appeared. His dark eyes widened with shock and fear. “And no more rude comments about me, got it?”

“You don’t scare me,” Victor said, though his voice trembled.

“No. Then maybe this will. If you don’t quit spreading nasty rumors about me at the lab, I will make you wish you were never born. Understand?” She pressed the blade a bit harder beneath his chin. “My life and work are none of your concern.”

She lowered her hand and stepped away. A thin line of blood trickled down Victor’s throat. She’d wanted to curse him, infect him with some virulent disease, watch him waste away from hunger and starvation. Instead, she’d nicked his neck and decimated his pride. Not quite as satisfying, but hopefully as effective.

“Quinn... I never thought you’d resort to violence.” He touched his throat then stared at the blood on his fingertips, thoughtful and distant. Finally, Victor met her gaze again, his expression hard as granite. “You think this story will have a happy ending? It won’t. Get real, Quinn. The only way to survive what’s about to happen is to cooperate with Sam and the new owners of the lab. The sooner you face up to that the better.”

Victor walked away, cursing and mumbling to himself under his breath.

Quinn stepped away from Wyck and scanned the club again for Sam, her heart still slammed against her chest from the encounter with Victor. The bastard had provoked her on purpose then fled like a coward. She sheathed her knife once more, doing her best to quell the thrumming power inside her, demanding to be sated.

What made matters worse was that Victor was right. It would have been easier for her to give in the Nephilim, but she couldn’t let her research fall into such evil hands, even if there was no other way out of the impending disaster.

“You slept with him?” Wyck said, his tone was rough and dark.

“What?” She hazarded a glance up at him. His green-gold eyes looked icy, no trace of warmth in them now. She didn’t know him well enough to judge what he might do, but if the look in his eyes was any indication, Victor and his buddies at the bar better start running.

“No. We went out once, on a date. He wanted more. I refused.” She placed her hand on his chest, over his heart. “There’s nothing between us now.”

“Quinn? What the hell is this all about?” Sam’s sharp tone made her jump.

He still wore his dark suit and wire-rimmed glasses from the lab. Sam watched her closely, as if probing her mind with his shrewd blue eyes.

“I need to talk to you about the lab’s new owners.” Quinn lowered her voice, in case anyone was listening in.

“Who’s he?” Sam’s attention shifted to Wyck, lingered, his expression growing harsher by the second.

“He’s my friend.” Quinn frowned. She’d always seen Sam as a kindly, grandfatherly-type mentor, but ever since the half-breeds had taken over the lab, he’d changed. There was an evil edge of corruption to him now, ugly and grotesque.

“What exactly do you need to discuss?” A server brought Sam a glass of red wine, the deep, blood-red color unsettling after her recent encounter with Victor. “You know it’s best not to dig too deeply into their affairs.” He gave Wyck a long, assessing look. “I hope I don’t need to remind you of the importance of discretion at this stage of your research.”

Quinn forced a smile. No. Sam, of all people, didn’t have to remind her about the consequences of sharing her secrets with the wrong man.

But Wyck was different.

At least she hoped he was.

The last man Quinn had trusted enough to share her work with had turned out to be a spy for a rival lab. He’d copied her research on crop regeneration and shared it with their biggest competitor. It had taken her years and a lot of heartbreak to recover from that lesson and was another reason why she felt safer alone. At least until Wyck had appeared.

“Please, Sam. It’s important.” Quinn didn’t like being in the club. It made her feel too exposed and vulnerable, but she needed answers and Sam was her best bet at getting them. These days he spent less and less time at the lab and more and more time at Paradise Lost. He’d called it his home away from home, after his wife had died the year prior. Quinn was coming to believe this place was a fast-track straight to perdition.

Wyck still stood guard at her back, distrust pulsing off him in waves. Once they were alone, they needed to have a serious conversation about why he was acting so strangely tonight.

Sam sipped his wine, as people jostled around them, trying to get closer to the bar. Wyck shielded Quinn from the worst knocks. She took a deep breath and forced the raging power within her to calm. She needed a level head and going nuclear in her boss’s club wouldn’t help matters at all.

“Why this sudden interest in the lab’s owners?” Sam asked, smiling innocently. “Have they done something to make you unhappy?”

“You mean like trying to kill her? Twice?” Wyck’s deep voice carried over the throbbing bass of the music.

Sam scowled, his expression a mix of disgust and resignation. “I’m not sure what happened to you, Quinn, but I’m sure it had nothing to do with Tolbert International. Perhaps it was a random mugging. Atlanta’s become much more dangerous recently.”

“You can say that again,” Wyck said, with a heavy dose of snark. Quinn hid her smile. If felt good to have someone on her side for a change. “Do you have any idea of the heinous acts those bastards have carried out against humanity?”

“Evil is in the eye of the beholder. Over the centuries many scientists have been persecuted for their beliefs.” Sam’s stoic façade was firmly back in place. It was a look Quinn knew well. “Tolbert International is passionate about your research Quinn. They want to make sure that the data is kept safe, that’s all. Perhaps they sent extra security to guard you when you’re out and about. If you felt threatened by their actions, then my apologies.”

“Security? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Quinn felt the tension building inside her again. “I can tell you for a fact the bastard who attacked me two nights ago in the plaza wasn’t interested in my security.” She waved her hand over the repaired sleeve of her lab coat. “Does this look like protection to you? Not to mention the hellish creature they sent last night. You know what these people are, Sam, and they’re not human. They’re Nephilim. Half-angel, half human. Fully untrustworthy.”

“Nonsense,” Sam muttered. “They only have your best intentions at heart.”

“Best intentions?” Wyck growled.

Sam glanced at the dance floor then looked back at Quinn, moving closer as if afraid of being overheard. That was new. In the decade she’d known Samual Una, Quinn had never once seen the man fearful of anything. In fact, no one bothered his club for the simple reason everyone knew Sam had the connections and clout to handle anything Atlanta threw at him, evil or good.

“Tolbert International stated publicly they bought our lab to continue our cutting-edge research and experimentation, but that’s not the real purpose. It’s only a front to get at what they really wanted. Your Project Replenish.”

Even though Quinn had suspected their motives, hearing Sam confirm it made her stomach sink.

“What do they want it for?”

“Don’t know yet. I’m still trying to work that out. I fear they think it has human applications.”

“That explains the body count.” Wyck said. “This is bad, Quinn. Very bad.”

“You don’t think I know that?” she hissed. Her research was meant for agriculture. She’d never, ever intended for the serum to be used on humans. The special chromosomes would rip apart human DNA and cause severe side effects. At best, it would kill a person immediately. At worst, it would turn them into something monstrous—a mindless zombie, a slave.

The thought of hundreds of people dead because of her made her ill. Bile rose hot in her throat and she swallowed hard to keep from vomiting. “Do you know where they’re conducting these experiments?”

“They’re slipping the serum into drinks without their consent.” Sam held up a hand and backed up a step. “Not here. I have all the liquor tested daily. They’ve started their own club in Midtown to lure in all the tourists. I’ll give you the address, but if you’re thinking of going there, be careful. They’ll spot you a mile away and shut it all down. They keep watch.”

Quinn frowned. God, in all her years as a scientist, she never thought one of her inventions would be stolen and used for such horrific purposes. Project Replenish. She’d had such grand, glorious purposes for her discovery and now it could wreak such devastation because it had fallen into the most awful hands imaginable.

“You’re sure about this?” Wyck asked.

Sam nodded. Not a hint of doubt in his eyes.

“Can we get someone inside, Sam?” Quinn asked. “Me, or someone else from the lab, who can check it out for us? Perhaps someone Tolbert won’t suspect.”

Sam nodded. “I’ve been thinking along the same lines myself and I know just the person. Let me talk it over with him then we can send him tonight to lure the responsible parties out so we can deal with them. Hold tight.”

“Wiil it be another club like this?” Wyck met her gaze briefly then looked over her head again.

“No. If it’s in Midtown, it’ll cater to a better crowd.” Quinn looked at several women nearby who were watching them. “We’ll talk about it more on the way.”

“Who will he choose to go in?”

“Not sure,” she said, though she had a pretty good idea, and Wyck wasn’t going to like it. She wasn’t too thrilled herself, but if Victor could finally do some good, then let him. At least their past was out in the open and she had no more secrets to keep from Wyck, save one. She’d tell him that later, when they were alone. “I’m guessing it’ll be Victor. But don’t worry, I can handle him.”

He gave a curt nod, his gaze flickering to somewhere beyond her again.

She turned and realized he was watching the dancers.

Desire beat through her veins in time with the music, making her wish she could dance like that with Wyck. She pictured her fingers wandering across his broad bare chest, teasing his stiff nipples, her fingernails raking over his abdomen and leaving red marks in their wake. She imagined the feel him against her, hot and hard and ready, his hands caressing her hips and breasts. She wanted to do those things, with him, in public. From the way Wyck’s pupils had dilated and his breath hitched, he wanted that too.

He met her gaze and her pulse tripled with anticipation. Wyck traced his fingers along her jaw then down her neck, brushing her throat. She shivered, her eyelids drooping as he ran his thumb along her lower lip. If this was wrong she didn’t care. She needed him.

Let these people think what they wanted.

Because she could only think about him.