Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 96: Second Dose

The second dose of the mysterious serum is just as bad as the first. I scream until my throat’s raw, but the pain eventually disappears as abruptly as it comes on. The creepy-crawling purple lines are still unnerving, but at least I’m expecting them this time.

No; I’m more concerned about Eliana coming in to check on me. Or Xavier.

I hate Xavier more than I think I’ve ever hated anyone in my life. There’s something about him that tells me he’s broken from the soul out. Eliana’s not far off, but at least she pretends some level of humanity.

Her brother... He’s just psychotic.

I have a vague feeling Eliana has a purpose and will keep me alive for it. Xavier? I’m pretty sure he’d eat me to fulfill whatever strange addiction he seems to hold.

His eyes are feverish with obsession.

He’s definitely the worse of the two.

I drift in and out of consciousness, aware of flickers passing over my closed eyes. The sensation is gentle, almost playful—like someone’s waving their hand in front of my face. When I finally pry my heavy eyelids open, I find myself alone in the sterile room.

No Jim. No doctors. Just me and several blue spirits bobbing around my bed like underwater jellyfish.

One tugs at my blanket, pulling it higher over my chest. Another yanks it back down. They seem to be playing some sort of game, their ethereal forms pulsing with each movement.

"How are you doing that?" My voice comes out raspy.

The spirits pause their blanket tug-of-war, hovering closer. One passes right through my arm, leaving behind a tingling sensation. Yet moments later, it grabs the edge of my pillowcase with what looks like a translucent tendril.

"That doesn’t make sense. You can go through solid objects but also move them?"

The spirits swirl faster, their blue light intensifying. One dips down and phases through the metal rail of my bed, then immediately after manages to tap against it, creating a soft ping sound.

I watch, fascinated, as they resume their game with my blanket. Their movements are deliberate, coordinated. These aren’t just random energy patterns—they’re intelligent. The way they interact reminds me of children playing, complete with what almost looks like shoving matches when two try to pull the blanket in opposite directions.

The restraints bite into my wrists as I yank against them. My muscles scream in protest, the purple lines under my skin pulsing with each movement.

But I’m finally alone.

Jim isn’t here to keep watch.

Maybe I can get out of these. Maybe I can get out of here, away from Eliana’s mad scientist routine and Xavier’s predatory gaze.

"Come on, come on." The metal clinks against the bed frame.

The blue spirits dart around me, their usual playful demeanor replaced by frantic movements. Orange bleeds into their ethereal forms like food coloring in water. One passes through my arm repeatedly, leaving behind a chill that makes me shiver.

"Stop that." I grit my teeth against another wave of pain. "I have to get out of here."

My skin feels like it’s on fire where the restraints touch it. The serum they pumped into me makes everything hurt twice as much, but the thought of Xavier coming back pushes me to keep trying.

A spirit swoops down to my hand, its light dimming to a deep burnt orange. It taps against the restraint, then phases through it. The metal grows ice cold.

"What are you trying to tell me?"

The spirit repeats the motion. Tap. Phase. Cold.

I twist my wrist, feeling the frozen metal scratch against my skin. The restraint doesn’t give, but something about the temperature change makes me think. If they can affect physical objects...

"Can you help me?"

The spirits swirl faster, their colors shifting between blue and orange like emergency lights. One dips down to my ankle restraint while another hovers near my left wrist. The metal grows colder.

I pull again, harder this time. My muscles protest and tears spring to my eyes, but I keep going. The purple lines under my skin writhe like angry snakes.

"Please," I whisper. "I can’t stay here."

The door handle rattles.

The spirits vanish in a blink, leaving me alone with my raw wrists and the lingering sensation of their cold touch. I force my body to go limp, trying to slow my racing heart before whoever it is enters.

The door opens and Jim steps in, his face set in grim lines. A bundle of fabric rests in his arms, but it’s his expression that catches my attention. His gaze drops to my wrists, lingering on the raw skin. The corner of his mouth twitches.

Without a word, he moves to the bed and starts unbuckling the restraints. The metal clinks against the frame, still cold from the spirits’ touch. My arms fall limp at my sides, tingling as blood rushes back into my fingers.

"A shower might do you well."

The words catch me off guard. I rub my wrists, watching as he tosses towels and clothes onto the bed. A small bag of toiletries follows—shampoo, soap, a toothbrush. My heart skips when I spot the razor among them. The metal gleams under the fluorescent lights, sharp and dangerous.

Suddenly he’s concerned for my hygiene?

It’s strange.

Even in the hotel, I never had the chance to shave. The idea of deforesting my legs is certainly appealing, but it all seems... off.

Why?

Jim settles into his chair and crosses his arms. His eyes close, face impassive. It’s like his entire body is telling me no answers will be forthcoming.

I gather the items with shaking hands, the razor’s weight burning against my palm. My heart skips. It’s a feeble weapon at best, but it’s something.

The bathroom door creaks as I push it open, my legs unsteady after days of lying down.

There’s no lock on the door. I trust Jim won’t come in on my showers—he didn’t at the hotel. But I don’t want to linger in the luxury. Who knows what Eliana or Xavier might do.

The tiles feel like ice under my feet. Steam fills the small space as I turn on the shower, but I can’t shake the chill that runs down my spine. Jim’s silence unsettles me more than his usual cryptic comments.

Water beats against my skin, washing away days of sweat and fear. The purple lines still snake beneath my skin, a visual reminder of what they’ve done to me. What they’re still doing to me.

Is this a test? Another one of their experiments?