Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha novel Chapter 111

Chapter 111: Biohazard Suit

The doctor’s suit crinkles with each movement, the material catching the harsh fluorescent lights. It reminds me of those movies where scientists study deadly viruses. Except this time, I’m the virus.

"The suit protects against magical backlash," Logan says, his thumb rubbing circles on my hand. It’s his go-to way to keep me calm, I think. "Standard procedure."

The doctor’s gloved hands press against my neck, checking my lymph nodes. The touch feels distant, disconnected, like it’s happening to someone else. His movements are precise, clinical, but I notice how he maintains a careful distance, never getting too close.

"Temperature’s normalized," he says, voice muffled through the clear face shield. "Blood pressure stable. Heart rate within acceptable parameters."

The words wash over me, my eyes glazed as I repeat those five names in my head. Names I refuse to forget. freeweɓnovel~cѳm

Private Cooper. Dr. Santos. Nurse Practitioner Chen. Nurse Walsh. Nurse Martinez.

"We need a blood sample."

The words pierce through my fog. Blood. My blood. The memory hits—the nurse approaching with a needle, my panic, the surge of power. The explosion.

Logan’s hand tightens on mine. "Nicole?"

I stare at the doctor’s outstretched hand holding the tourniquet. My arm feels like lead. Every instinct screams to protect my blood, to keep it safe. To prevent anyone from having that kind of power over me.

But five people are dead.

Five families destroyed because I couldn’t control whatever lives inside me.

The vague, faceless image of Private Cooper’s pregnant wife flashes through my mind. And what about Dr. Santos? Did she have family? People who loved her? People who will never see her again because of me?

My arm moves before I fully process the decision.

I can’t be selfish.

Can’t let more people die because of me.

The rubber tourniquet snaps tight around my bicep. I turn my face into Logan’s chest, unable to watch. His heartbeat drums steady against my cheek, a rhythm to focus on instead of the cold alcohol swab on my skin.

The needle slides in. I hold my breath, waiting for something. A surge of power, loss of control, absolute insanity in my head.

But nothing happens.

The vial fills with my blood—normal, red blood. Not the iridescent liquid the dragons drew from my veins.

It didn’t feel like me. It almost felt like that weird drunk feeling from dragon toxin, though not exactly the same.

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