Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha novel Chapter 131

Chapter 131: Purple

"And then Jenny said the eyes were like, this weird purple color? But Stacy swears they were more blue. Usually, glowing is yellow or green, right?"

"Purple? Is that the only reason it’s weird? My cousin saw red ones last summer."

"Blue eyes glow red in light! That’s probably why. Purple seems weird, though. I don’t think purple eyes is normal. That’s creepy. Were they staring into her room or something?"

"It probably wasn’t even eyes, then. Maybe someone was practicing light orbs."

The gaggle of students devolves into a debate about supernatural eye colors that would put a Pinterest board to shame. Not a single useful detail emerges from their chatter.

Penelope extricates herself with practiced grace. "Well ladies, this has been absolutely fascinating, but we should get going."

She waves goodbye to her newfound flock, who chirp farewells in return. Once we’re safely out of earshot, she turns to me with a frown. "You aren’t going to be Lady Detective again, are you? Mysterious glowing eyes in the garden sounds right up your alley."

"Not a chance." I grimace. "In case you forgot, we can barely light a candle between us. Running toward danger when we can’t defend ourselves is exactly the kind of stupid that gets people killed in horror movies." Since I no longer have to worry about being some sort of murder suspect, and my job isn’t on the line, I see no need to put myself into danger.

Been there. Done that. Got the weird injections, and I’d like to return them.

Penelope’s heels click against the marble as we walk aimlessly. "Fair point. But can we talk about how there’s apparently a ’normal kind’ of glowing eyes around here? Like, what does that even mean? Is there a handbook somewhere? ’Chapter One: Standard Issue Supernatural Eye Colors and You’?"

"I’m not worried about the eye color. I’d be more worried about what’s behind the eyeballs stalking me."

She nods thoughtfully. "This place is weird. It’s supposed to be a prestigious magical college, but half the time it feels more like high school with spells. Complete with cliques and gossip central. Though it doesn’t seem like the geese are opposed to making friends. The gossip wasn’t as useful as I’d like, but at least I know I can squeeze my way into the information chain."

* * *

Over the next week, the professors still ignore us. Penelope still can’t do anything more basic than light a candle, and my magic acts like it doesn’t exist. We’re the failures of our class, and I’m up every night scouring my textbooks, trying to figure out what I’m doing wrong.

At this rate, I’m definitely going to accidentally blow up and kill someone again.

Despite my lack of faith in the Conclave, at least I’m starting to see why they want me here.

The couch squeaks as I flop back on it. My textbook slides off my lap and hits the floor with a thud. Let it stay there. Three hours of staring at magical theory diagrams have left my eyes burning.

"Princess Paws, I’m dying here."

My cat stretches on her perch by the window, giving me a bland stare.

"Don’t give me that look. You try learning about magical resonance frequencies and tell me how your brain feels after."

The apartment feels too quiet. Logan hasn’t been around in a couple days, though he hasn’t explained exactly why he’s busy. It’s all vague stuff, and I’m already sick of it, though I understand why he can’t tell me every detail.

Usually, Penelope’s always around—but she’s gone, too, sneaking away to spend time with the Ashby fan club she calls her geese. She’s determined to get into the gossip chain. Information is power and all that.

But so far all we’ve learned is that more people report glowing purple eyes and Marcus Ashby’s girlfriends all had red hair.

My fingers trace the edges of the bandage on my arm where I burned myself in class. Another failed attempt at basic magic. I don’t even know what happened; there was a flareup of flame and pain, but only for a second. It’s the kind of incident that doesn’t turn heads in class—everyone’s had some sort of magical snafu—but it’s enough to make me worry.

Everyone’s able to do something with their magic, but not me.

Princess Paws jumps onto my stomach, her paws kneading my shirt.

"At least you still love me, even if I’m the worst witch in the history of Thornhaven."

She headbutts my chin and purrs. The vibrations travel through my chest, easing some of the tension I’ve been carrying. I scratch behind her ears, focusing on the simple comfort of her presence instead of the lack of progress I’m making.

Shadows lengthen across the floor as evening settles in. I should get up. Should practice more. Should try to figure out why my magic refuses to work properly...

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify