Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 87: The Strange Dr. Eliana Moon

"It looks like she’s waking up."

No, I’m not.

Clinging to the darkness, I beg my body to sink back into oblivion. It’s dangerous out there. Unfortunately, consciousness hovers at the edges of my mind, unwelcome and insistent. My body seems determined to move, with or without my cooperation, unresponsive to my desperate attempts to retreat from reality.

"Left eyelid twitched. Fingers on right hand curled slightly." The clinical tone of an unfamiliar voice pierces through my fog. Male. Bored. Detached.

"You sure she’s clean?" Jim’s gruff voice. My captor. A flash of memory—struggling, biting down hard. A horrifying taste in my mouth.

My tongue cringes.

"Wouldn’t be waking up with even a speck of that shit in her system." The new voice again, a distinct drawl coloring his words. "What were you thinking, anyway?"

A low growl from Jim. "Bitch bit me. Caught me off guard."

Laughter, rich and amused. "Bet that excuse didn’t fly too well."

"Shut up," Jim mutters, but there’s no real venom behind it.

I fight against the growing awareness, desperate to retreat into the safety of unconsciousness. But my body betrays me, synapses firing, senses sharpening against my will.

The smell hits me first—antiseptic, sharp and clinical. Hospital? Underneath, a hint of copper. Blood? Mine or Jim’s, I wonder. My mouth tastes like cotton, dry and unpleasant.

A dull ache radiates through my body. My shoulders burn, and my arms are twisted at an unnatural angle. Restraints, I realize with a sinking feeling. The surface beneath me is hard and unyielding. A table? Operating table?

No. Just a shitty bed, I think.

My butt hurts. And my back.

I force myself to remain still. Play dead. Buy time.

"Increased heart rate," the clinical voice observes. "Blood pressure rising. Multiple twitches, all limbs. Eye movement is significantly increased. Pretty sure she’s conscious."

Damn it.

"Rise and shine, sweetheart," Jim’s voice, closer now. His breath is hot against my ear, and I flinch despite myself. "I know you’re awake."

There’s always the option of maintaining my charade, but there’s no way they’ll buy it now. Slowly, reluctantly, I open my eyes.

Harsh fluorescent light. White walls. Stainless steel surfaces. Medical equipment I don’t recognize. It looks like some kind of lab. Clinic? Something. Not a hospital, though.

Jim looms over me, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. There’s a bandage on his forearm where I bit him. Good.

To his left stands a man I don’t recognize. Tall, lean, with sharp features and calculating blue eyes. He’s shaved so bald I can’t even get a hint of hair color. Just shiny, shiny skin, reflecting the overhead light. His skin is so pale I’d definitely clock him as a vampire on that alone. He regards me with detached curiosity, like I’m some sort of interesting specimen.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Ms. d’Armand," the stranger says, his accent more pronounced now. Boston, maybe? Somewhere around there. "How are you feeling?"

I open my mouth to speak, but only a dry rasp emerges. My throat feels like sandpaper.

"Water," I manage to croak out.

The stranger nods to Jim, who produces a bottle of water with a straw. He holds it to my lips, and I drink greedily, not caring about the indignity of the situation.

"Easy," Jim warns, pulling the bottle away. "Don’t want you choking."

I glare at him.

"Where am I?" I demand, my voice stronger now.

The stranger chuckles. "Direct. I like that." He pulls up a chair, straddling it backwards as he faces me. "You can call me Dr. Reeves. As for where you are... let’s just say you’re our guest for the time being."

"Funny way to treat a guest."

Dr. Reeves shrugs. "Precautions were necessary. Unless you prefer being dead. We could probably work around that, if you really want us to."

Well, no. Death doesn’t sound like a pleasant alternative. But that doesn’t mean I appreciate this situation, either.

I test my restraints, finding them frustratingly secure.

Jim’s eyes narrow, a warning in his gaze. "Settle down," he says, his voice low. "You’re safe enough here. Long as you don’t try running again."

Safe. Right. This situation just screams safety. Silly me.

Then a more urgent thought hits me. "Where’s Princess Paws? What did you do with my cat?"

Jim’s expression softens, just a fraction. "Your furball’s fine. Being taken care of."

I want to demand more information, but Dr. Reeves steps forward, effectively ending that line of questioning. His clinical gaze sweeps over me, and I fight the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. It feels like he’s staring at an ant. A big, Nicole-sized ant.

"Now, Ms. d’Armand, I’m going to perform a quick physical examination," he states, snapping on a pair of latex gloves. "I assure you, this is purely for medical purposes."

Yeah, because that’s not ominous at all.

The exam is uncomfortable, to say the least. Dr. Reeves is professional, his touch clinical and impersonal, but I can’t shake the feeling of violation as he pokes and prods, checking every inch of my skin. I grit my teeth, enduring his ministrations in tense silence. frёewebηovel.cѳm

When he’s finished, Dr. Reeves produces a set of small vials. "I’ll need to take some blood samples."

I watch warily as he prepares the needle. "What for?"

He doesn’t answer, just slides the needle into my arm with practiced ease. I wince at the sharp pinch, watching as dark red liquid fills the vials. When he’s done, Dr. Reeves labels each sample meticulously before gathering his equipment.

"No lesions. That’s a good sign," he says, heading for the door. "I’ll be back to discuss the results once I’ve analyzed these."

And just like that, he’s gone, leaving me alone with Jim once more. I tug at the restraints again, frustration building.

"Are these really necessary?"

Jim snorts. "Your own damn fault. Shouldn’t have tried to run."

"Oh, I’m sorry," I snap. "Next time I’m kidnapped, I’ll be sure to sit quietly and cooperate."

He doesn’t rise to the bait, just shakes his head. "It is what it is. Deal with it."

I huff, changing tactics. "Why did we have to move, anyway? What was wrong with the hotel?"

Jim’s expression turns guarded. "You’ll know soon enough."

Before I can press further, the door swings open. A woman strolls in, and my breath catches in my throat.

She’s tall. Crazy tall, not just above-average, easily topping six feet. Pretty sure she’s even taller than Logan. Her hair is a shock of crimson, so vivid it has to be artificial. But it’s her eyes that capture my attention—an unnaturally bright blue, with irises far too large to be normal. They seem to glow with an inner light, and I can’t shake the feeling that they’re seeing right through me.

"Well, hello there!" she chirps, her voice bright and cheerful. "You must be our precious patient. I’ve heard so much about you!"

Her enthusiasm is jarring. She beams at me, all teeth and manic energy. There’s something off about her. Something that sets every nerve in my body on high alert. Like she’s going to eat me when I let my guard down.

"Who are you?"

"Oh, silly me!" She laughs, the sound high and tinkling. "Where are my manners? I’m Dr. Eliana Moon. But please, call me Eliana. We’re all friends here!"

Friends. Right.

Eliana’s gaze sweeps over me, and I fight the urge to shrink away. There’s hunger in those too-large eyes, a predatory gleam that makes my skin crawl.

"My, my," she purrs. "Aren’t you just fascinating? I can see why they’re all in such a tizzy over you."

I swallow hard. "Who’s ’they’?"

Eliana winks, tapping the side of her nose. "Now, now, I’m not going to be the one to spill. All in good time, my dear. All in good time."

Her smile never wavers as she turns to Jim. "You can go now. I’d like some quality time with our guest."

Jim hesitates, glancing between us. For a moment, I think he might argue, but then he nods curtly and leaves the room. The door clicks shut behind him, leaving me alone with this strange, unsettling woman.

Eliana pulls up a chair, sitting far too close for comfort. She leans in, her eyes roving over my face with unnerving intensity.

"So," she says, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Tell me all about yourself, Nicole. What makes you tick? What are your deepest, darkest secrets?"

I press myself back against the bed, trying to put as much distance between us as possible. It doesn’t do much, but it makes me feel marginally better. "I don’t know what you mean."

She laughs again. The sound sends shivers down my spine. "Oh, come now. No need to be shy. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, you and I. Might as well get comfortable."

"What do you want from me?"

Her smile widens, revealing teeth that seem just a bit too sharp. "Oh, darling. It’s not about what I want. It’s about what you are. What you can do."

She reaches out, her fingers hovering just above my cheek. I flinch away, but there’s nowhere to go.