Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 106: Spoonfed

The spoon hovers in front of my face like a mother bird feeding its chick. I shoot Logan my best death glare, but his amused smirk only grows wider.

"Open up." He waves the spoon. A drop of golden broth threatens to fall on my hospital gown.

I press my lips together and cross my arms. The movement squeezes at my IV line, leaving my elbow feeling a bit bruised, but it’s worth it for the dramatic effect.

"The doctor said clear liquids only." Logan’s voice carries that infuriating mix of authority and tenderness that makes my stomach flutter. "And since you can’t talk..."

My scowl deepens. The breathing tube removal left my throat feeling like I’d swallowed broken glass coated in fire ants and tiny demons stabbing me with pitchforks. Even if I wanted to tell him exactly where he could stick that spoon, I physically can’t.

"Come on, Nikki." He leans closer, his forest-green eyes sparkling with mischief. "You need to eat something."

The nickname should annoy me. I hate when anyone other than Penelope calls me Nikki. But of course when Logan says it, my chest just gets all warm and tingly instead.

A strand of his golden brown hair falls across his forehead as he tilts his head, studying me. His bruises from the crash have already started turning that sickly yellow-green color, but even beaten up, he’s unfairly handsome.

Must be nice to have wolf healing, though. Could use some of that to heal my throat so I can tell him where he can put the damn spoon.

"The faster you eat, the faster you heal." He taps the spoon against the bowl. "The faster you heal..."

I raise an eyebrow, waiting.

"The faster you can tell me exactly what you think about being spoon-fed."

My lips twitch. Damn him.

He notices and grins. "That’s what I thought."

The spoon approaches again, and this time I let him slip it between my lips. The broth is barely warm, watered down despite being salty, and overall disgusting, but his satisfied expression keeps me from spitting it back out.

"Good girl."

The patronizing tone has me narrowing my eyes, but he’s already dipping the spoon back into the bowl. His other hand rests on the bed rail, close enough that his knuckles brush against my arm. The casual touch sends tingles across my skin.

For someone who almost died, he’s unfairly sexy. And my body doesn’t seem to understand the need for medical rest, because all I want to do is jump his wolfy bones. Specifically one bone in particular.

I blame it on his stupid pheromones. They’re all pheromone-y again, soaking the room in his sex appeal. He’s probably doing it on purpose, because he’s an ass like that.

Another spoonful appears. I accept it, if only because watching Logan play nurse is mildly entertaining. His massive frame looks ridiculous perched on the tiny hospital chair, hunched over to carefully feed me without spilling.

Princess Paws stretches on my lap, her purr vibrating against my legs. The hospital made an exception to their no-pets policy after Logan pulled some strings. I suspect it has something to do with his badge, or maybe threats to tear people’s heads off, but I’m not complaining.

Of course, she has to go home with him, but at least I can hug her and hold her and know she’s okay.

"Almost done." He scrapes the bottom of the bowl. "Think you can manage one more?"

I roll my eyes but open my mouth. The broth slides down my raw throat, and I grimace.

Logan’s expression softens. His free hand moves to cup my cheek, thumb brushing away a drop of broth from the corner of my mouth. The gentle touch makes my breath catch.

"I know it hurts." His voice drops lower, meant only for me. "But you’re doing great."

The heat that creeps up my neck has nothing to do with my fever. I lean into his touch, just slightly, allowing myself this moment of pampering. Terrible broth aside, I’m enjoying his undivided attention.

Huh.

Maybe I’m not as independent as I thought I was.

Logan sets the empty bowl aside but doesn’t move away. His hand stays on my cheek, warm and solid and real. Princess Paws headbutts his arm, demanding attention, but for once he ignores her.

"You scared the hell out of me," he murmurs.

I want to tell him he scared me too. Want to describe the terror of watching dragonfire consume the SUV with him inside. Want to explain how the world stopped spinning until I saw him alive in this hospital room.

Instead, I lift my hand to cover his where it rests against my face. His skin is rough with calluses, but his touch remains impossibly gentle.

We stay like that, suspended in this quiet moment, until Princess Paws decides she’s been ignored long enough and paws at the empty bowl until it clatters to the ground.

Logan’s deep chuckle fills the room as he scoops up Princess Paws. "Who’s my brave little warrior?" He nuzzles his face against her fur, and she rewards him with a loud purr that makes my chest tighten.

The sight of my wolf—wait, not my wolf, definitely not my wolf—cuddling my cat shouldn’t make my stomach knot up like this. But watching him press kisses to her tiny head while she basks in his attention stirs something uncomfortably close to jealousy.

A sigh escapes before I can stop it. Big mistake. My throat constricts and I double over, harsh coughs wracking my body. Each spasm feels like swallowing a thousand miniature razor blades. Or maybe one giant one. A thousand giant ones? Look. This shit is painful, okay?

Logan drops Princess Paws onto the bed so fast she lets out an indignant meow. His hands are on me in an instant, one rubbing circles on my back while the other steadies my shoulder.

"Easy," he murmurs. "Small breaths."