Quinn shivered as Wyck carried her through the brightly lit foyer of a warehouse-style apartment building. She peered at the people milling about, but no one even glanced at them. Which meant either this was a high-end place that didn’t ask questions, or they couldn’t see the tall, muscled warrior carrying around an injured scientist like some warped fairy tale prince. She suspected it was the later, since the man who’d come to her aid didn’t look like a billionaire.

He’d paused outside the entrance and waggled his fingers. She guessed now he’d been cloaking their appearance. He glanced down at her, one tawny brow raised, and she looked away fast, embarrassed and afraid. He’d been right. Running away from him had been foolish and had only quickened her blood loss. Now she was on the verge of passing out.

Wyck’s expression grew impatient as they boarded the elevator. The car jostled and he tightened his grip on her. Panic squeezed her chest, her breath growing shaky. She buried her face against his chest to drive it away.

“Not much longer.” His deep voice rumbled beneath her ear. “Hold on.”

His eyes met hers, flecks of gold shifting in his light green irises. Nothing about this night seemed real, least of all him. She’d this strange sense he was not of this world, like the creature who’d attacked her. But this warrior was something else entirely from those pale creeps who were trying to take over her lab and use her research for their own selfish gains.

Concern marked his handsome face. The elevator dinged and he gave her a relieved smile as the door slid open again.

“Stay with me,” he said. She nodded, her mind fuzzy.

He carried her down a lit corridor then propped her against his hip with one arm while struggling to open the door to his apartment. She twined her hands around his neck, her fingers slipping though his soft hair. He shuddered, and once more she was amazed by how much his reactions affected her. Whatever this man was, he was no saint. She’d seen flicker of passion in his gaze, lust too.

Unable to resist, Quinn toyed with his curls, the golden waves silky against her skin. She met his gaze, his eyes were bright and fixed intently on her. His pupils were dilated, signaling his attraction. He wanted her.

She was surprised to find she wanted him too.

But that was impossible. Men like him didn’t want women like her. She’d always been too smart, too prickly, too prim and precise. No way would he look at her with such fire and hunger. Honestly, a man like him wouldn’t look at her at all.

The apartment door swung open at last, but Wyck didn’t move. Just remained on the threshold, staring at her as if he wrestled with a mighty decision.

Sudden pain speared her chest and her breath grew rapid and shallow. The scientist in her knew the signs of hypovolemic shock well. She peeked down at her hands and saw her nails were blue. Soon she’d lose consciousness. Without aid, she’d die. Her opponent in the park must have nicked an artery. Wyck raced with her into his bedroom. Her vision tunneled as her blood pressure dropped precipitously low and her eyelids felt heavy as concrete. If he could heal her wounds as he’d claimed, now would be a good time.

Then again, if this was all a dream, perhaps she was dead already.

Wyck settled her atop a fluffy down comforter on the bed and she curled into a ball as bone-deep cold shredded her composure. She wasn’t afraid. She was a scientist. She believed in logic, not fate and magic.

Her stomach lurched.

Okay. She was terrified.

“Shh.” Wyck took her hand. He was her only hope now. If he couldn’t save her, she wouldn’t have time to make it to the ER. He slowly stretched her stiff limbs out on the bed. She was too weak to fight him. “Try to keep still.”

Then he stood over her, holding his hands out flat above her right arm, moving them along the length of her injured limb. White light beamed from his palms, warming her skin and soothing her pain. Soon, she felt boneless, weightless, totally relaxed and sleepy. Her eyes slipped closed.

“Look at me.”

She forced herself to do as he asked. Wyck’s gaze glowed golden now, the green of his irises completely obscured.

“That’s it. Keep focused on me.”

Quinn nodded, but soon her vision was dulled by excruciating pain searing through her entire body. She arched off the bed, clutching the covers and focusing on Wyck as he’d asked, but unconsciousness beckoned, pulling her under. She couldn’t hold on. Blackness overtook her.

The next time she blinked open her eyes, the nightmare of agony receded. Her mouth felt dry as cotton and her head pounded like a jackhammer. A heavy hand settled against her shoulder, keeping her flat as she tried to roll onto her side. Memories of what had happened flooded back. The fight at the park. The escape afterward.

She squinted at her right arm. Her lab coat was gone and so were her wounds. Not even a scar remained. She frowned as a second hand came into view. She tracked the length of the brawny arm to his face. Wyck smiled, not exactly cheerful, but full of warmth. Awareness tingled through her system before she could tamp it down. Quinn told herself he was only being kind, he’d rescued her from that creep in the park and felt obligated to be concerned for her welfare. That was all. It had nothing to do with her as a woman.

They stared at each other for several seconds until she finally looked away to take in the rest of his appearance. He’d removed his leather jacket, and wore a T-shirt reading “Have Your Tried Turning It Off Then Turning It On Again?”. His faded jeans fit snug to his long legs.

He looked like some kind of geek model, with his shaggy blond hair and hipster glasses. And he was built like a Greek god too, his perfection nearly otherworldly.

“How long was I out?” The words croaked from her throat.

Wyck handed her a glass of water, helping her sit up to drink it. Man, he smelled good—like sandalwood and soap. It took some shuffling to get her into a comfortable position. When she finally rested against the pillows, his hand had slid down to the small of her back, touching the bare skin where her blouse had scooched up from the waistband of her skirt. She stared at him, her thirst replaced with things altogether more alarming.

Hunger.

Desire.

She definitely shouldn’t be feeling those things toward a stranger, no matter how handsome.

“Thanks.” Quinn sipped the water.

He didn’t move away.

Silence stretched taut between them.

After she finished, Quinn stared down at her toes. He’d removed her shoes, revealing her ripped stockings from the fight. Those unearthly bastards would go to any extreme to gain control of her research, her precious serum. And she’d do anything to stop them. She frowned, glancing around the room for her weapon. She spotted the trusty knife on a small nightstand beside the bed, its razor-sharp blade gleaming under the lamp’s glow.

“I didn’t want you to hurt yourself. I hope you don’t mind I removed it,” Wyck said, giving her another of his charming, lopsided grins.

Quinn frowned at the nightstand. Beside the knife was a neat stack of books, placed precisely in descending order by size.

“It’s fine,” she said, distracted.

Her tattered lab coat was thrown over the back of a chair across the room and the top buttons on her blouse were undone. The thought of Wyck’s hands so close to her breasts made her blush.

“You look flushed.”

Her cheeks prickled with heat. “I’m fine. Tired, and groggy, and in need of some painkillers, but otherwise, I’m good.”

His eyes narrowed. “I think you need more rest.”

He was right, of course, but she didn’t trust herself to spend more time so close to him. It was better to fend for herself alone than to face more rejection and heartache.

“Quinn?” The way he said her name, all husky and low, made her toes curl.

“Yes?” Her gaze remained lowered. She sipped more water, ran her finger around the rim, did anything to avoid looking at him again.

“How much do you know about the man you encountered last night?”

“That was no man.” His question surprised her. She knew that thing that attacked her last night had been no normal man, and had assumed he did too. She met his gaze again, mesmerized by their light green hue, the flecks of gold. She could stare into those eyes forever and die a happy woman.

Erotic images of them entwined together in his sheets flickered through her mind. Quinn tried to suppress them but they wouldn’t leave, not while he looked at her with such hunger and need. She wasn’t used to being an object of lust. Usually men couldn’t flee fast enough from her big brain and kick-ass attitude.

But he’d asked her about the creature last night, which meant he knew things too. Things that might be useful in her fight to keep her lab and her research safe.

Quinn cleared her throat. Whatever this weird connection was between them, it wasn’t going anywhere. The sooner her body got that message, the better. The fact he looked like her every torrid fantasy come to life didn’t matter, not did her urge to drag him into bed. She barely knew him. Things would turn out badly, as they always did for her in the love department.

She’d stick around long enough to get the information she needed about these creatures who’d turned up without warning and threatened everything she’d worked so hard for, then she’d leave Wyck behind. “I’ll tell you about that man on one condition. We work together.”

“No.” His stern tone brooked no argument. “I can’t risk you.”

“Risk me?” Quinn scowled and set her water aside. “Listen, buddy. I don’t need protecting. I can handle myself. I know Atlanta, and I know the scientific community. If you want information, you’re going to have to work with me to get it.”

Wyck’s frown increased. “How do you know the Nephilim?”

She sighed and forced herself to relax. “They bought out the lab where I work a few months ago. At first I thought they were just allergic to sunlight and happiness, but I’ve seen them do things no mortal could do. I did some research. How do you know about them?”

“It’s my job to know.”

“And what exactly is your job?”

“I’m a Scion.”

“Huh?” Quinn scrunched her nose . She’d turned up evidence of all sorts of odd creatures—demons, angels, minions, spirits—but never anything called a Scion. Her scientific curiosity got the better of her though. “What’s that?”

“I’m immortal warrior created by Divninty to guard the mortal host of the third Seal of the Apocalypse. You, Quinn.” He sighed. “And I’m here on a mission to uncover evidence of a conspiracy by the Nephilim.”

“Wait a minute. Slow down.” She grabbed his T-shirt and yanked him toward her. His eyes widened. “You think I’ve got this Seal you’re guarding? Because I don’t.”

“It’s not an object. It’s within you, part of your DNA. The host is sometimes unaware of the power inside them.”

If he was trying to throw her off with useless trivia, it was working. She filed the info away for later and focused on the more pressing issue. “The Nephilim are planning a conspiracy?”

“We believe so. That’s what I’m here to find out.” Wyck removed her hands from his shirt but didn’t let them go. Instead, he laced their fingers together. “Without your help, more people could be in danger. They’ve already killed more than a hundred people. Please, Quinn…”

Whenever he said her name, she wanted to give him whatever he wanted, but she had to protect her lab, her research, her heart. “I have more to consider than just this conspiracy theory of yours. What I’m working on could end famine forever, save millions. I can’t just abandon my life’s work. No. You partner with me or forget it.”

His gaze drifted over her, a sexy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. She didn’t want him to hurt her. Years of rejection had taught her to never get involved emotionally. Common sense demanded she leave before things got complicated. But her instincts urged her to stay, to find out more about him and these Scions and whatever this conspiracy was he talked about.

“Deal.” He smiled and her insides quivered with anticipation.

Quinn swallowed hard and shook his hand. “Deal.”