Quinn.
She was his to protect, this beautiful, prickly woman with such passion hidden in her depths. He wanted to hold her and kiss her until neither of them cared about all the reasons why this wouldn’t work. At the moment, nothing seemed more important—not who they were or what lay ahead. Only that they were here, now, and the were falling for each other.
Wyck almost laughed. His Scion brothers would have a field day if they knew his foolish thoughts. He’d always been the logical one, the warrior who put facts and knowledge above all else.
Tonight, he was just a man.
A man who wanted one very special woman.
The niggle of doubt inside him resurfaced. Quinn had flirted with him, yes, and he could sense her desire, but this could be another trick, a challenge to make him falter in his sworn Scion duty.
He stopped near her and stared deep into her emerald eyes, hoping to decipher the truth. Tears sparkled on her lashes and for a brief second, pure vulnerability replaced all else.
His chest ached with longing.
This wasn’t a game.
This was real, for both of them.
They were both scared.
In retrospect, he realized he’d given up the fight against his attraction to her the moment they’d touched the first night.
Quinn pressed her hand over his heart and rose up on tiptoe, her eyes slipping closed as her mouth touched his. The kiss was soft, tentative, mind-blowing. Any hint of reserve Wyck had left shattered in that instant. He started to respond, but she pulled back and smiled.
“Goodnight.” With that, she walked into his bedroom and closed the door.
Wyck stared after her, struggling to regain control. He fought the urge to kick down the door and kiss her properly as he wanted. Every inch of his body tightened at the thought of burying himself deep in her sweet body. Instead, he pressed his forehead to the cool brick wall and took a few deep breaths, wrestling for command over his libido.
Her footsteps echoed in the next room, and he tried to convince himself to go for a walk, go away period, but it was impossible. He didn’t care about the consequences. He only cared about the truth of what they felt for each other.
He barely had a chance to knock before she opened the door for him. She stood there, shoes off and blouse unbuttoned, her eyes wide as they searched his.
They reached for each other at the same moment, her hand over his heart again as he captured her lips. She gasped and he took advantage, his tongue delving inside her mouth to tangle with hers. She slid her hands around his neck, her fingers toyed with the hair at his nape again.
It didn’t matter that the city was overrun with Nephilim, didn’t matter that she might be helping them with their sinister plan. Nothing mattered but this need, this hunger, these feelings they shared.
Quinn whimpered and Wyck scooped her up, setting her in the middle of his king-sized bed, his mouth still locked on hers. He stretched out beside her, his body partially covering hers, savoring her soft warmth. He wanted more, so much more.
She did too, apparently, her hands tugging up his T-shirt to skim over his bare abdomen. Her fingertips grazed his sensitive Scion mark and he bit back a groan. His mark was the ultimate erogenous zone. If she kept toughing him there, she’d have him at her mercy in mere seconds. Not that he’d tell her that. He wanted this pleasure to last all night.
He tugged his T-shirt over his head, then stared down at her. Her eyes darkened, her pupils dilating to obscure the green of her irises. She wanted him, as much as he wanted her. She ran both of her palms over his pecs and his muscles tensed beneath her delicious touch.
“Like a god,” she whispered, tracing the lines of his taut abdomen, leaving a fiery trail in their wake. “Or a proud Viking.”
Wyck chuckled, his own hands busy removing her blouse then cupping her breasts through her lace bra. His thumbs brushed the taut peaks and he bent to kiss each nipple before undoing the front clasp slipping the straps down her arms. Once it was off, he tossed it aside, not caring where it landed. He only had eyes for her. She was so lovely, every fiber of his being screamed with want. A small part of his brain warned this could well be the power of her Seal, messing with his Scion senses, but he didn’t think so.
He toed off his shoes and socks, then stilled above her, letting her explore him. She ran her hands over his body with scientific precision, investigating each inch of him until he felt he would die from sheer need. Quinn started with his left hand, tracing the lines on his palm before moving up to his wrist, then his forearm, until her thumbs caressed the skin on his inner elbow. Then she took his left hand and guided it to her breast, urging him to explore her too as she repeated the process with his right hand and arm.
Then her fingers were at the waistband of his jeans and Wyck froze, focused on her questing touch. She met his gaze, that vulnerable look back in her eyes.
“Tell me you want this, that this isn’t all a dream,” she whispered.
“I want you more than life itself.” He cupped her cheek. “Don’t ever doubt that.”
They kissed again, long deep, drugging caresses of lips and tongue that drove them both wild. Next thing he knew, Quinn had rolled him over, onto his back, and straddled him. He cupped her breasts as she sat astride him, her skirt now bunched around her waist, leaving her bare from the waist down except for her panties. The heat of her pressed to the hard length of his cock through his jeans nearly made him come. It had been so long. Too long.
Quinn wriggled her hips and he groaned. A naughty smile curved her lips as she did it again and he took charge, lifting her off him and laying her down on the mattress again.
He hastily removed the rest of their clothes and put on a condom, then settled atop her again, skin to skin from head to toe. Her mouth met his, their tongues tangling. He could kiss her for an eternity and never get bored.
Quinn had other ideas. She shifted, sliding her fingers down to take his cock in hand, stroking him just right from tip to base. He cupped her butt, smiling against her mouth.
She pushed him over onto his back again, nibbling her way down his chest and stopping to nuzzle his left nipple before continuing downward to his Scion mark. Wyck closed his eyes as she traced the swirling lines of his mark. His skin heated beneath her lips and would start glowing soon from the sheer pleasure if she didn’t stop.
Wyck rolled Quinn beneath him once more, nestling himself between her thighs, the head of his cock nudging her slick folds.
“Wyck,” she whispered, hot and sultry.
The sound branded itself on his mind.
He held her gaze, stroking the hair from her flushed face. “I want you Quinn. Only you. I am your Scion. Forever yours. Do you want this?”
She nodded, and he gently eased his cock inside her, savoring the feeling of their first joining—so warm and tight and wonderful he struggled not to come immediately. But he wanted to make this good for her too.
Wyck held still, hilt-deep inside her. They were partners, in every sense now. Whatever the future held, they would face it together.
Her eyes grew dreamy as he thrust into her, deep steady strokes. Her lips parted and she dragged him down for another kiss, their breaths panting. She raised her hips and meeting him stroke for stroke. He pumped inside her, harder and faster, pushing them both to the brink of ecstasy.
Quinn tipped her head back and dug her fingers into his arm. “More... Wyck.”
Her soft cries spurred him on and he buried his face in her throat, nuzzling the pulse point at the base of her neck and biting her collarbone. She took all of him. This beautiful woman took everything and it only made her moan louder.
She shuddered around him, her orgasm hitting hard. Her slick walls milked his cock until he couldn’t take any more. He came hard, body taut and straining, until they both relaxed into the aftermath, his cheek pressed in the valley between her breasts. Her heart beat beneath his ear, in time with his own racing pulse. Her fingers stroked his scalp
, soothing him, lulling him toward slumber.
He would never regret this moment, or any that came after.
Quinn’s breathing gradually evened out into the patterns of sleep, and Wyck closed his eyes, unable to stop smiling. He would never regret anything when it came to her.
6
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.
Scion's Awakening (Seven Seals Series Book 3) Page 4
