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He stands, and I hate that I must tilt my head up to maintain eye contact. He's too tall, too broad-shouldered, too everything.

"As much as I'd love to take credit for having that kind of influence over university funding decisions, and as much as I want you working for me, I don't typically resort to blackmail."

"Liar."

"Think about it, Dahlia." He walks around the desk and leans against it just inches from where I stand. "If I wanted to sabotage you, why would I cut your funding by eighty percent? Why not all of it?"

I cross my arms. "Well, I don't know how your brain works. Maybe you want to back me into a corner and make me desperate enough to come to you."

"And yet here you are." His smile widens. "Though I suspect it's more out of rage than desperation."

"Fix it." I jab a finger at his chest, ignoring the solid wall of muscle I encounter. "Call whoever you called to cut my funding and fix it."

"I didn't cut your funding. But I'm certainly not going to pretend I'm not pleased by this development." He shifts closer, and I catch a hint of his woodsy and expensive scent that makes my nose tingle. "You need money to continue your research. I have money. Lots of it."

"I'm not interested in your help."

"No?" He raises an eyebrow. "How exactly do you plan to find a cure for the Crimson Plague without proper funding? Bake sales? Crowdfunding?"

I freeze. "How do you know what I'm researching?"

"I make it my business to know what my brilliant scientist is working on. Especially when it involves a virus that's decimating the shifter population."

"My lab shut down that research track."

"Yes, they did." He nods, his expression darkening. "That's very shortsighted of them. I wouldn't."

Something in his tone makes me step back. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that if you worked for me, you'd have unlimited funding, state-of-the-art equipment, and complete freedom to pursue your research on the Crimson Plague. No university ethics committees will breathe down your neck. And most certainly you won't have your budget cut. Ever."

"And all I have to do is sell my soul."

He chuckles. "You're so dramatic. I'm offering you a job, not asking for your soul."

"It feels like the same thing when it comes to you."

"You hurt me." He places a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "But as it happens, you don't actually have a choice anymore."

My stomach drops. "What are you talking about?"

Evan walks back behind his desk, pulls open a drawer, and extracts a folder, then slides it across to me. "As of this morning, Blackthorn Biotech has acquired exclusive rights to all research conducted in Dr. Matteo's lab… including yours."

I snatch up the folder and flip it open. Matteo's signature is on the transfer agreement, and my hands start to shake.That son of a fucking bitch

"You can't do this. My research is independent…"

"It was conducted using university resources, under university supervision. The contract is quite clear." He taps the paper. "You work for me now, Dr. Baldwin."

"You are a cunning snake." The words come out as a hiss.

"I did what was necessary." His voice hardens. "The Crimson Plague is spreading, and you're closer to understanding it than anyone. I wasn't about to let some university bean counters shut you down because they're afraid of what you might discover."

I slam the folder shut. "What exactly do you want from me?"

"The same thing you want. A cure."

"Why? You're not even a shifter." But even as I say it, something clicks into place. "Are you?"