Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 104: Hallucinating

"She’s a fucking supernova," someone shouts.

"Fuck, my eyes!"

But their words mean nothing to me as I scramble to my feet, rushing toward the engulfed SUV.

Logan.

My Logan.

He came to save me, and now—

Tears blur my vision and I blink them away, uncaring as they slide down my cheeks. Only the feeling of claws on my ankle finally drag my attention away.

Princess Paws clambers up my leg with pathetic mewls.

"No, please." My voice cracks as I try to untangle Princess Paws from my leg. Her claws dig deeper into my flesh, each desperate attempt to remove her only making her grip tighter. "I need to get to him."

The heat from the burning SUV scorches my face. Smoke stings my eyes, but I can’t look away from where I last saw Logan. The flames dance higher, consuming everything in their path.

Strong hands grab my shoulders. I twist, kick, anything to break free.

"Let me go. Logan’s in there!"

"Ma’am, it’s not safe." A soldier in tactical gear tries to drag me backward.

I thrash against his grip. "I don’t care! Logan!"

Another soldier grabs my other arm. Princess Paws yowls as she’s dislodged, but I barely register it as I fight against their hold.

"He’s still in there! Please!" My throat burns from screaming. Or smoke. Or crying. Does it matter? It doesn’t.

They lift me off my feet. I kick harder, connecting with something solid. A grunt of pain. Good.

"Secure the asset!" Someone barks orders behind me.

Asset? I’m not their fucking asset. I’m trying to save the man I—

The thought dies as I watch a section of the SUV’s roof cave in. The sound of metal groaning cuts through the chaos.

"No!" That single word tears my throat. My world.

My captors drag me further back. Away from Logan. Away from any chance of helping him.

"Stand down, ma’am." The command comes from my left, the words grunted out of whoever’s straining to drag me away for my own safety.

I ram my elbow backward. Miss. "Like hell I will."

More hands grab me. Three, four soldiers now? I don’t care. I keep fighting, keep screaming his name until my voice gives out. freewёbnoνel.com

They pull me toward another vehicle. Each step takes me further from the inferno. Further from Logan.

A medic approaches with a syringe.

"Don’t you dare." I bare my teeth at him, but my threats mean nothing when I can barely move.

The needle slides into my arm, held still despite my attempts at thrashing and dislodging all these bastards from me.

The last thing I see before darkness takes me is the burning SUV, flames reaching toward the sky like hungry fingers.

Logan’s name dies on my lips as consciousness slips away.

The last thing I hear is, "Don’t forget her cat."

* * *

Something blocks my throat. Can’t breathe. Can’t swallow.

My eyes snap open to harsh fluorescent lights. White ceiling tiles swim above me, blurring as I try to focus. Pain radiates through every inch of my body, but that’s nothing compared to the plastic tube jammed down my throat.

I reach for my face, but restraints bite into my wrists. No. Not again. Not more restraints.

My heart pounds against my ribs as I pull against the straps. The beeping beside me speeds up, matching my rising panic. I need this thing out. Need to breathe on my own.

"Hey, easy there, troublemaker."

Logan’s voice.

My chest constricts. Tears burn my eyes as I shake my head. He can’t be here. I watched the SUV burn. Watched the roof collapse. My mind is playing cruel tricks.

"Shh, you’re safe. I’m right here."

A warm hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing away tears I can’t stop. I squeeze my eyes shut. This isn’t real. The drugs are making me hallucinate. Logan is gone, and I couldn’t save him.

The heart monitor’s frantic beeping fills my ears. I want to scream, to tell this phantom Logan how sorry I am, but the tube won’t let me speak. Won’t let me breathe right.

"Nicole, look at me."

I shake my head again. Looking will make it worse. Will make his inevitable disappearance hurt more.

"Princess Paws misses you. She’s been sleeping on my chest every night, probably because she can smell you on me."

Fresh tears spill down my cheeks. The touch feels so real. His voice sounds exactly right—that mix of gruffness and tenderness that’s purely Logan.

"Open those beautiful eyes for me, sweetheart."

My breath hitches around the tube as I force my eyes open. Logan’s face swims into view, bruised but alive. His green eyes hold mine, filled with worry and something deeper I’m afraid to name.

I try to reach for him, forgetting the restraints. The cuffs dig into my skin as I strain toward him.

"Easy. The doctors had to restrain you after you tried to pull the tube out twice. Let me get someone to check if we can remove it now that you’re awake."

No. Don’t go. My fingers stretch toward him, desperate to touch, to prove he’s real.

"I’m not going anywhere." He catches my hand, careful of the IV line. "Just pressing the call button, love. I’m staying with you."

His skin is warm against mine. Solid. Real. The tears won’t stop now, blurring my vision of him. I blink rapidly, needing to see him clearly.

I drink in every detail of Logan’s face, even if it’s a little wiggly-jiggly from the water that keeps overflowing, sliding down my cheeks with initial warmth that turns ice cold.

A purple bruise spreads across his left cheekbone, stark against his tanned skin. His golden-brown hair stands messier than usual, singed at the edges as if he ran through fire. Which, well—obviously he did. There’s no other way out of one.

The crisp white dress shirt he wears strikes me as wrong—too pristine against his battered appearance. The fabric stretches across his broad shoulders, one sleeve hanging empty. Initial panic fades as I notice his right arm rests in a navy-blue sling against his chest. No cast though.

His jaw sports several days’ worth of stubble, darker than normal against his unusually pale complexion. But his eyes—those striking green eyes that first drew me in—they shine with the same intensity, the same fierce protectiveness that makes my heart skip.

A raw patch of skin peeks above his collar, angry red and beginning to peel. The mark stretches down, disappearing beneath the ill-fitting shirt someone else must have brought him.

Despite everything, he looks whole. Alive. The image of him trapped in that burning SUV doesn’t match the man before me, holding my hand like I might shatter if he lets go. Dark circles shadow his eyes, but his grip remains steady, anchoring me to this moment, to this reality where somehow we both survived.

A nurse bustles in, but I can’t look away from Logan. Can’t risk him vanishing if I take my eyes off him for even a second.

"Good to see you awake, Ms. d’Armand. Those are some nasty smoke inhalation injuries you’ve got there. Let’s check if we can remove that breathing tube."