Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 107: Making Things Awkward 101

The warmth of his touch seeps through my hospital gown, and a tiny part of me preens at how quickly he abandoned her to tend to me. Which makes me feel like a terrible person because who gets jealous of their own kitten?

Me, apparently.

I probably need to go to confession for that one. How does that work? Does it only work for Catholics?

Princess Paws, oblivious to my internal crisis, bats at my IV line like it’s her favorite toy. The tubing swings back and forth, only enticing her to play with it even harder.

"Hey now, princess." Logan catches her paw mid-swipe. "That’s not a toy."

She switches targets, attacking his fingers instead. Her tiny teeth barely make an impression on his skin, but he plays along, wiggling his hand while she pounces.

My breathing steadies under his other hand’s gentle pressure. The coughing subsides, leaving behind that familiar burning sensation. Logan reaches for the cup of ice chips on the bedside table, but doesn’t move away from me.

"Here." He presses a small piece against my lips. "Let it melt slowly."

The ice soothes my raw throat, and I close my eyes in relief. When I open them again, Logan’s watching me with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken.

Princess Paws chooses that moment to abandon his hand and return to investigating my IV line.

"Princess." Logan snatches her away from the IV line again. "No. Bad kitty."

A silent laugh bubbles up, but I suppress it before it can trigger another coughing fit. Exasperated, Logan unlaces his shoe, using the lace as string to dangle in front of her face, wiggling this way and that like wounded prey. Princess Paws gives him a look that can only be described as feline disdain.

My amusement fades as I watch him distract her. Questions crowd my mind, things I keep trying to avoid thinking too hard about. Where are we? This doesn’t look like any hospital I recognize. The room lacks that sterile hospital smell, replaced by something earthier, almost like pine needles.

Logan’s tactical team—who are they? Those armed men moved with military precision. Didn’t seem very police-y, and I didn’t see anything marking them as SED.

I tap his arm to get his attention. When he looks up, I mime writing in the air, hoping he’ll get the hint.

"No paper." He shakes his head. "Doctor’s orders. No strain, no stress, no questions until tomorrow."

My eyes narrow. That’s convenient. Too convenient.

He must read the suspicion on my face because his expression softens. "I know you have questions. But right now, you need to rest."

I point at him, then at the door, raising my eyebrows in what I hope translates to ’where are we?’

"No walks, either."

Damn it, that’s not what I was asking. For being my mate, he’s shit at reading my mind.

Princess Paws abandons his pathetic string-prey to attack his fingers again. Logan lets her, but his eyes stay locked on mine.

I gesture at myself, then at him, trying to ask how they found me.

"I don’t know how long before you can talk. They said it varies."

Son of a bitch. Still not what I was asking about.

Frustration burns hotter than the pain in my throat, but then another wave of his pheromones overcomes my overthinking brain.

Oh.

That’s why he’s doing that.

Keeping me all soft and pliant and not-questioning-y.

I tap his arm again, more insistent this time, now that I know what he’s doing.

"Nikki." His voice carries a warning note.

Slumping back against the pillows, I hope he at least reads my body language as you suck, don’t talk to me.

"We can’t do that. You’re still healing."

What?

My brows fly sky-high. Is he thinking what I think he’s—

"No." He points a finger at me with a warning frown. "Don’t even think about it. You’re a mess, and you need to get better. No flirting."

He is.

He’s definitely thinking that.

What the hell.

Indignant, I do my best with various movements of my arms to explain that I was not thinking about that. Maybe I was a few minutes ago, but not right now. I want answers, not sex!

Logan sighs. "You’re not going to let this go, are you?"

I shake my head, then realize he’s probably thinking the wrong thing again.

Which—

His pheromones surround me in a flood as he leans forward to press a gentle kiss against my lips, causing all kinds of fires to erupt in my body. The kind of fires that might mimic a fever.

"No," he says, after that gentle kiss. "We are not having sex until you’re better."

Damn it, Logan! That’s not what I’m trying to talk about!

But now it’s what I’m thinking about, and I can’t help but feel mildly affronted at his lack of giving in to what I never asked for in the first place.

Son of a bitch. Those damn pheromones have me all addled.

I shove at his face with a scowl, not sure exactly what’s upsetting me. Him thinking I was asking for sex, or him not giving in even though I wasn’t asking for it in the first place.

"This isn’t easy for me either," Logan mutters against my palm.

My jaw drops. The audacity. He’s the one flooding the room with those intoxicating pheromones, and he has the nerve to blame me?

Though... considering how my body’s reacting to his every touch, I’m probably broadcasting some pretty intense signals of my own. Heat creeps up my neck as I realize exactly what kind of scents I must be giving off.

"Stop trying to tempt me." His voice drops lower, rougher. "You know what you’re doing."

I shake my head frantically, waving my hands in what I hope translates to ’absolutely not.’ This is not my fault. I’m trying to ask questions, get answers about where we are, what happened. He’s the one who turned this into something else entirely.

Logan leans forward, and I press my hands against his chest to push him back. Only my palm slips—oops—and lands squarely in his lap.

My eyes go wide. His go dark.

Oh no.

Then my damn fingers curl automatically around something hot and hard.

Oh, yeah. That’s definitely an oops. I should probably pull my hand away.

"Nikki." The veins in his neck bulge, probably with the force of his self-control, as he gently pulls my hand off his dick and sets it back into my lap. "I’m going to pretend that didn’t happen."