Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha novel Chapter 103

Chapter 103: Explosion

"Don’t get complacent."

"Yes, sir."

The absolute calm of these people as the world is on fire right in front of us.

My ears ring from the explosion. Through the tinted windows, orange and purple flames paint the night sky like some toxic northern lights. Princess Paws taps at the tiny oxygen mask in my hand, reminding me of her existence.

Shit.

Feeling guilty over having let my hand go limp, I tuck the mask against her face once again.

"That’s our backup." Logan reaches over to squeeze my hand. "We’re okay."

The words don’t match the scene outside. Nothing about this is okay. Actual dragons hunting me down like prey, and now explosions lighting up the sky like it’s the Fourth of July.

"Will that be enough?" My voice cracks, high with worry. The oxygen mask fogs with each shallow breath.

Logan’s thumb traces circles on my palm. "We’re equipped for anti-dragon warfare. Latest tech, specialized ammunition. Best team in the business."

Anti-dragon warfare. The phrase echoes in my head, surreal and wrong. Dragons haven’t been around in ages. No one has to worry about fighting dragons anymore. At least not in our country.

Yet here we are.

The SUV hits another divot in the ground, and my teeth rattle. Blue spirits pop into view by the window; they disappeared earlier, but I guess they found me again. Or maybe they were just out of view when I got in the vehicle.

"Nicole? Are you with me?"

I want to nod, to show Logan I’m handling this like the strong, independent woman I’ve always prided myself on being. But I can’t find the words.

The vehicle jolts again, and Logan’s grip on my hand tightens. "Talk to me."

"Just trying to process everything." Which is pretty much all I can really say about what’s going on in my head right now.

Nothing’s real.

Everything’s just outlandish and crazy.

"Shock, most likely." The soldier in front turns, his tactical vest creaking. "Don’t worry, Ms. d’Armand, we’ve got—"

A flash of white light floods my vision. The world tilts sideways as something slams into the front of our SUV. The impact throws us off the ground, and my stomach lurches as we become airborne.

Princess Paws yowls. I curl around her, tucking her close to my chest as the vehicle spins. Metal screams. Glass shatters. My seatbelt digs into my shoulder and hip, the only anchor in a world gone mad.

A heavy thud beside me—Logan. The realization hits harder than the rolling vehicle. He wasn’t wearing his seatbelt. His body crashes against the roof, then the door, then me.

We stop moving with a final groan of twisted metal. My side presses against the ground, gravity all wrong. The acrid stench of burned rubber and hot metal fills my nose. Princess Paws trembles against my chest, her claws digging through my shirt.

"Logan?" My voice sounds strange, muffled by the oxygen mask still somehow attached to my face.

A wet cough answers. "Here."

He’s sprawled across the ceiling-turned-wall, blood trickling from a gash on his forehead. His right arm hangs at an awkward angle, but his eyes are open, alert. They find mine in the darkness.

"Don’t move," he says, then winces. "Could be glass everywhere."

The blue spirits swirl frantically around us, their light casting eerie shadows through the smoke. They seem agitated, darting between Logan and me like anxious butterflies. Guess they came in during the crash. They were outside just seconds ago.

How, I can’t explain. He didn’t have wings before. But I know.

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