Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 17: Run

Staring at the strange man strewn across my car, I repeat, "Run? Run where?" like a fucking idiot.

He’s practically melded into my car.

He came from the air.

Panthers don’t fucking fly.

They definitely don’t fly fast enough to deform my whole ass car.

And he’s telling me to run.

I don’t have to be great at math to add these facts up and realize I’m an idiot for ever leaving my damn car.

Shit.

"What did this to you?" Not who. I’m sure I don’t know who the fuck they are. Right now, I need to know what I’m dealing with.

"Run," he repeats, glazed eyes looking over my shoulder.

The nape of my neck prickles, and I swear I can feel something hot and breathy washing over me—but when I glance over my shoulder, nothing’s there.

I’m a good person. Or at least, I like to think I’m a good person. I’ll help out when and where I can.

I’m not such a good person where I’ll sacrifice my life for a random panther thrown into the side of my car on a dark, deserted mountain road.

Something scrapes against rock, a sound that chills me to the bone. Every hair on my body stands on end, my skin prickling with goosebumps. The panther-man’s warning echoes in my head, and instinct takes over.

Run.

I bolt for the driver’s seat, heart thundering in my chest. The mountain air whips past my face as I sprint, my legs pumping furiously. Just a few more steps...

A deafening crash reverberates through the night. Something massive slams into my car, the impact so violent it rocks the entire vehicle. Metal groans and glass shatters. The panther shifter screams.

I don’t dare look back.

With trembling hands, I yank the door open. The familiar scent of leather and my favorite air freshener hits me, a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding. I dive inside, lunging for my purse on the passenger seat. My fingers brush against the familiar texture of the bag—

Pain explodes across my legs. Sharp, searing agony rips through my flesh as something digs into my skin. A scream tears from my throat, raw and primal. The world tilts and spins as I’m yanked backward, out of the relative safety of my car.

But I can feel it. My fingers have the thin leather strap of my purse in a tight grip.

That’s all I need. Maybe. Hopefully.

Okay, no, I need an entire squad of SED out here keeping me safe from whatever’s terrorizing the mountain. Let’s be real. The contents of my purse are little more than a Hail Mary pass.

My back meets unforgiving asphalt. The wind’s knocked out of me, leaving me gasping. Stars dance across my vision, mingling with the inky blackness of the night sky above.

Something looms over me, blocking out what little moonlight filters through the trees. Hot, rancid breath washes over my face. My heart pounds so hard I fear it might burst from my chest.

Massive. Reptilian. Scales glinting in the moonlight. Elongated snout filled with razor-sharp teeth. Claws dripping blood. My blood. Not a dragon—no wings. Some sort of prehistoric throwback? Impossible. We don’t just accrue new species of supernaturals.

No time to theorize. My fingers dive into my purse, desperately seeking salvation.

Come on, come on...

There. Cool stone meets my fingertips. A wardstone. Which one? I’m not sure. I don’t have time to check.

Yellow eyes gleam above me, and saliva drips from its massive, repulsively sulfurous maw, landing on my shoulder with a sizzle. There’s a hole in my brand-new shirt.

The price tag hurt when I bought it. It hurts more knowing it’s become victim to some supe-ass bullshit this early in its life. Too bad I can’t just get a refund. Excuse me, do you do refunds for acid-dissolved fabric? Asking for a friend.

Despite the crazy train of thought going through my head, I don’t hesitate. My arm shoots up, wardstone clutched tight, that amazing oh shit feature aiming right for that glistening eyeball above me.

I thrust with all my might.

Contact. Hard, unmistakable contact that shakes my arm and sends pain through my locked elbow.

An unholy shriek splits the night. The creature rears back, its grip on me loosening. Pain lances through my body as its claws tear free.

A howl echoes through the mountains, a sound that vibrates even my teeth. It should bring an extra dose of fear, but the fury ringing within somehow brings me comfort.

The beast’s head snaps up, nostrils flaring. It hisses—a sound that has me shuddering with primal fear—then vanishes in a cloud of acrid smoke.

The stench burns my lungs, causing me to double over and cough violently to clear my airway. Smoke stings my eyes as I struggle to my feet. My legs scream in protest. Something warm and wet trickles down my thighs.

Don’t look. Don’t look.

The last thing I need right now is to fall into shock over my wounds. God, maybe they’re infected. Who knows what bacteria the not-a-dragon holds in its claws.

Jesus. I don’t even want to think about the horse-sized antibiotic pills I’m going to have to take to avoid sepsis.

I stumble toward my car, each step agony. Metal groans as I lean against the battered frame. Will it even start?

Then an unwelcome sound reaches my ears.

Heavy footfalls. Fast. Getting closer.

God. Not again.

I fumble for the door handle, desperation lending strength to my trembling fingers. Just as I wrench it open, a massive shape bursts from the treeline.

"Nicole?"

That voice. I know that voice.

I turn, my vision blurring. A silhouette comes into focus, pheromones wafting my way in pure, undiluted strength.

Even with my body shaking from adrenaline dump and blood oozing down my legs, my body reacts to the alpha-level pheromones soaking the area. They’re not the sexual kind that has my body burning, but an instinctive reaction to an angry alpha storming through; I want to curl up on the floor and bare my neck in hopes of being spared.

Only one man’s pheromones have ever affected me, but it makes no sense. How can he be here? Why is he here?

"Logan?" I ask hesitantly, as if my entire body doesn’t know exactly who’s stalking toward me.