Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 92: Integration

Bright blue eyes hover inches from my face. My muscles scream as I jerk back, head thudding against the pillow.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Eliana’s manic grin stretches wider. "How’s my favorite test subject feeling today?"

My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth; when I swallow, it’s like sandpaper dragging down my throat. The pain has me grimacing.

"She needs water." Her voice cracks like a whip.

Dr. Reeves materializes beside the bed, his face an expressionless mask. He has a styrofoam cup in hand, with a pink straw.

"Small sips," he says.

Sucking greedily and ignoring his instructions, I draw in cool water as fast as I can, swallowing with gratitude. I want to gulp more down, but Dr. Reeves pulls the cup back every so often, forcing me to pace myself.

"Look at those beautiful lines." Eliana’s finger traces the air above my arm, following the purple tendrils that snake beneath my skin. "The serum’s integration is remarkable. Simply remarkable."

My stomach churns at her enthusiasm. The fluorescent lights still pulse with halos, but duller now, like viewing them through frosted glass. Every inch of my body throbs in time with my heartbeat.

"How are you feeling?" Dr. Reeves asks, offering another careful sip of water.

"Like I got hit by a truck." My voice sounds wrong, raspy and thin. "Then backed over. And thrown out a window."

"Fascinating." Eliana leans closer, her unnaturally bright eyes boring into mine. "The pain responses are exactly as theorized. This is going even better than we hoped."

A violent shudder wracks through me at Eliana’s enthusiasm. She clicks her tongue and pulls the thin blanket up to my chin with exaggerated care, like a mother tucking in a sick child.

"Don’t worry, we’ll be taking good care of you, darling." Her saccharine tone makes my skin crawl. "You’re far too valuable to risk."

The sharp edge of her manicured nail traces along my collarbone. The touch sends ice through my veins, and I fight the urge to recoil.

"The purple’s fading here." She taps the spot. "Note that down, would you?"

Dr. Reeves’s pen scratches against his clipboard. His face remains impassive, focused solely on his notes. At least he doesn’t look at me like I’m a fascinating new toy.

The mad scientist—because that has to be what she is—pats my cheek. The gesture feels possessive, marking me as her property. "Finish up the examination, Doctor. I have work to do."

Movement catches my eye. Glass vials in her hand, filled with a shimmering, dark red liquid, faintly iridescent where the light hits.

She follows my gaze and holds them up with a theatrical flourish, shaking them like party favors.

"Just running some tests on your blood, sweetie." She winks, and I want to scrub the sight from my brain, even as my heart swoops to my feet.

The blood in those vials isn’t right. It isn’t just red. There’s a distinct iridescent shimmer, like oil on water. Or the inside of... clams? Mussels? Whatever they are. Those.

Whatever they’ve injected with has changed my blood.

I shiver, and Dr. Reeves checks my temperature. "One hundred even. No wonder you have the chills."

That’s not why, actually, but I let him think that as he performs his usual physical examination.

Dr. Reeves wraps the blood pressure cuff around my arm. The squeeze makes me wince—even that slight pressure feels like someone’s trying to crush my bones.

"One-sixty over ninety-eight." He clicks his tongue. "Pulse one hundred and ten."

The rubber hammer taps against my knee. Nothing. He tries again. Still nothing. The sound he makes reminds me of a computer processing error.

Cold air hits my feet as he pulls back the blanket. The tip of his pen presses against my big toe.

"Can you feel this?"

"Yes—ow!" I jerk my foot away as sharp pain shoots up my leg.

His pen scratches across the clipboard. The methodical sound grates on my nerves as he moves to prod my other toes, each touch sending fresh jolts through me.

"Heightened pain response," he mutters. "Interesting."

His clinical detachment only makes it worse as he works his way up my body, pressing here and there. Each spot he touches feels like pressing on a day-old bruise, but worse—like the pain goes bone-deep.

"Does this hurt?"

"Yes."

"Here?"

"Yes."

"And here?"

"Yes, everything hurts." My voice cracks. "Can we stop now?"

He ignores my request, continuing his examination. "Are you experiencing any hunger?"

The question catches me off guard. Now that he mentions it, my stomach feels oddly empty, but without any actual desire for food. "No, actually."

"Soup will be sent up shortly." He makes another note. "You need to drink all of it."

I give a weak nod, just wanting him to leave.

His face swoops down, uncomfortably close. His pale blue eyes lock onto mine as he enunciates each word: "Every. Single. Drop. Do you understand?"

Another nod.

"Verbal confirmation, please."

"I’ll drink it all." I sound like a sullen teenager.

He straightens, apparently satisfied, and pats my leg through the blanket. The gesture once again feels rehearsed, like someone told him this is what doctors do to comfort patients.

As the door clicks shut behind him, I notice Jim still sitting in his chair. He hasn’t moved an inch during the entire examination. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen him leave this room. No bathroom breaks, no meals, no sleep. Same with the strange hotel room.

Whatever Jim is, he’s definitely not human.

It’s not a new thought, but one that’s been brewing for quite some time.

I just have no idea what he would be. Everything about him feels human, but I know that’s not right. For one, human blood isn’t literal poison, and I remember clearly that horrible taste in my mouth when I bit his arm.

For two—well, everything else I already mentioned.

But as I continue pondering Jim’s existence, my eyes droop. I’m so sleepy already. Just a few minutes... Just a little nap to recoup my energy.