Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha novel Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Infidelity (?)

What the fuck is Logan Everett doing at my door?

No, back up.

How the fuck does Logan Everett know where I live? Stalker vibes much?

And yet I'm still scrambling to open the door, my body not on the same wavelength as my brain.

Said brain short-circuits at the sight before me. Logan stands in my hallway like some divine punishment for my sins. His worn t-shirt clings to his chest, outlining every ridge and valley of his sculpted torso. The jeans riding low on his hips aren't helping my mental state either.

Or the pheromones wafting my way, practically oozing out of his every pore.

Get it together, Nicole. You're not some hormone-addled teenager.

I clear my throat, aiming for stern professionalism. "Sergeant Everett. To what do I owe this... unexpected visit?"

My voice wavers, betraying me. Dammit.

A floorboard creaks behind me, and I know without looking that Penelope's curiosity has gotten the better of her. I wave her off, praying she takes the hint.

Logan's jaw clenches, the muscles in his neck taut. His eyes, usually a mesmerizing green, now shimmer with flecks of gold. It's hypnotic, dangerous. I force myself to look somewhere else. Like his forehead.

Who the hell has the audacity to have a beautiful forehead? He does.

"You're Scott's fiancée", he says, his voice rough.

The statement hits me like a bucket of ice water.

"Excuse me?"

Logan's eyes narrow, searching my face. For what, I'm not sure. "Scott Bower, of the Anti-Magic Security Division. I've been informed that you are, in fact, his fiancée." His eyes slide down to my hands, which are bare of the ring he's probably searching for.

I was never one for rings, but I'd definitely not be wearing one now that I'm not fucking engaged.

Resting my shoulder against the doorframe, I stare at him, unblinking. "Is that so?" freewёbnoνel.com

"You and I..." He hesitates. "It was a mistake."

What the fuck?

"Excuse me?" I repeat, flabbergasted. "A mistake?"

It was a one-night stand. Did I ask him for more? I think back to our awkward afternoon encounter. Nope. Not a word about our sexcapades. So why is he acting like I'm desperate for a relationship with him?

Am I missing something?

Logan's posture shifts, his spine straightening as if bracing for impact. The golden flecks in his eyes intensify, swirling like molten metal. His jaw tightens, and I can practically hear his teeth grinding.

"I have a code," he says, his voice low and strained. "A moral code that I've lived by my entire life. It's kept me sane, kept me... human."

I want to scream. Of course I want to tell him about walking in on Scott fucking a woman on my bed, about the shattered Meissen vase we're currently putting back together, and how I told Scott in no uncertain terms that we are over.

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