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The DUIO was discreet, no doubt about it. I had almost believed that none of this had happened until Quentin had reminded me again.

But he couldn't possibly have financed it. Someone else had had a hand in this. The DUIO itself?

“I could have killed you.”

It was the truth.

The mere thought made my heart ache.

“Occupational hazard,” he just replied, glancing at his file.

“The DUIO could have banned me from the building,” I continued.

I didn’t want him to do anything so reckless again as to force me to use my powers.

“Hardly,” he laughed dryly and pushed his black notebook aside. “I am the head of this experiment.” He looked up at me. “You are my experiment.” He hesitated, and I thought I saw a twitch at the corner of his right mouth before he continued. “They need data. Failures must be taken into account.”

Disbelief spread through me.

“You have a death wish,” I blurted out.

Quentin shrugged.

“A little risk is part of being a successful scientist.”

He walked around the table to his briefcase.

“No more experiments with my powers,” I demanded.

Quentin chuckled softly.

“You need me,” I said, feigning anger.

I wasn’t angry. How could I be angry when behind the hard-edged facade of this passive-aggressive man was Erik? It simply was not possible, even though it would make everything easier.

He picked up the briefcase, but looked at me with raised eyebrows.

Was he surprised?

“Unfortunately,” he eventually grumbled and turned away from me to take a thick old leather-bound book out of his bag, which he carefully placed in front of him on the lab table. “But just to clarify. It's part of this collaboration to research on and with your powers. This could be the breakthrough in mutation research, and I'm not going to let a stubborn second-semester student stop me from making progress in research just because Madame is afraid of her own powers.”

My jaw dropped.

“I...”

Quentin turned to me and placed both hands on my shoulders, which were covered by several layers of fabric.

I felt his warmth.

Overwhelmed, I fell silent.

The treacherous tingling in my stomach returned.

“Now sit down,” he ordered calmly, pushing me onto one of the chairs, causing irrepressible heat to explode in my stomach, followed by a dizzying tingling sensation. “I'm not going to argue with you.” He turned away from me and went back to reading his book. “If I wanted to chat with you, I would have invited you for coffee.”

I stared at him, incapable of anything else.

“You want the pact?” He pulled up a chair for himself before sitting down, took the simple golden ring off his ring finger and set it aside, then reached for a small, sturdy leather pouch. “Fine by me.”