Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha novel Chapter 159

Chapter 159: Confidence Rollercoaster

New, silky shorts cling to my Nicole v2.0 ass in a way that makes me feel like I’ve stepped into someone else’s life. Someone hotter. More confident. The crop top barely contains my glamour-enhanced chest, and I can’t stop staring at my reflection. I spin in front of the mirror, watching the way my now-blonde hair catches the light.

Penelope had a bag of clothes delivered not even thirty minutes after texting her. Bless her. Logan spent that entire thirty minutes purposely not looking at me, and it has me just a smidgen irritated.

The magic humming beneath my skin feels almost intoxicating—like I’ve had just enough champagne to silence my usual insecurities. I fluff my hair, admiring how it falls in perfect waves. No frizz. No effort. Just glossy perfection.

He has to be into this. There’s no way he’s not. He’s just being stubborn.

I flatten my palms against my new stomach. Not a single imperfection. Not even a freckle. The girl staring back at me looks airbrushed in a way that should bother me, but right now? I just want to see that same hunger in Logan’s eyes that I saw in the elevator. I want to watch him lose control for me—for this perfect body.

With a final glance at my reflection, I saunter into the living room. Logan’s sprawled on the couch, his attention fixated on his phone. He tenses when my footsteps approach, his shoulders going rigid, but he doesn’t look up.

I walk into the room slowly, watching him with narrowed eyes. He continues scrolling, thumb flicking across the screen with deliberate focus. He doesn’t acknowledge me, doesn’t comment, doesn’t even react to my presence.

I circle the couch, trailing my fingertips along the back of it. "You haven’t said a thing, you know. About how I look."

Nothing. Not even a grunt of acknowledgment.

"Not even going to glance at me?" I continue, letting my new voice purr a little.

"Trying not to," he mutters, still refusing to meet my eyes.

Fine. If the alpha won’t pounce... I will.

I round the couch and climb onto his lap without warning, my knees bracketing his thighs. My hands grip his shoulders. His entire body stiffens beneath me, but he doesn’t push me away.

His eyes stay fixed on his phone even as it sits useless in his hand. I reach down, grab his wrists, and place his hands on my hips. A challenge. A taunt.

"Seriously? I’m on your lap and you’re pretending I’m invisible?" I squeeze his shoulders, leaning closer.

Logan’s eyes remain firmly shut, his lips pressed into a tight line. "This isn’t you."

"But it is me. Now." I wiggle slightly on his lap, feeling a rush of power when his fingers involuntarily tighten on my hips.

He’s into this.

Right?

"No. It’s not you." His voice comes out deeper, rougher.

I lean in, my lips hovering just a breath away from his. He must sense my closeness because at the last second, he jerks his head to the side. My lips brush against his jaw instead of their intended target.

I freeze, a wave of offense washing through me. "You won’t even kiss me?"

I don’t know what I expected—him to give in? To get so overwhelmed by my hot new self he just forgot all his weird alpha hang-ups and kissed me back like a man possessed?

Well, yes, actually.

What the hell.

He groans, his eyes still firmly shut. "You smell wrong. My wolf’s... upset about it."

I hate how much that hurts. It shouldn’t. It’s not really my body. But it kind of feels like he just wrinkled his nose at my soul.

I scoff, playing it off like his rejection is ridiculous, but the sting is real. It hits a nerve I didn’t even know was exposed. If he really cared about me, wouldn’t he want me no matter how I look? Or smell?

"You know..." I say, my voice taking on a saccharine edge as frustration creeps in. "The way you’re acting makes it seem like you don’t want me to feel like my body is somehow inferior to this one."

Logan’s entire body tenses beneath me, his eyes still shut tight.

"Which means you think this body is better than mine. Don’t you?" My tone is deadpan sweet, the verbal equivalent of a knife slipped between his jerky, kiss-rejecting ribs. ƒreewebηoveℓ.com

His eyes fly open—comically wide with panic and bright, bright green. "No! Not at all. I don’t think that—Nicole, your body is—was—is—you."

Or maybe it’s just like... role-playing. Where it’s okay to do things you wouldn’t normally do, because it’s role-play.

Aha. So my body is inferior to this one. I narrow my eyes.

Something in me has softened a little from his earnest attempt. A little. But not entirely. It isn’t like I’ve never been a little self-conscious about my tummy or how much sexier Scott’s side piece was compared to her. "I didn’t before... but now?"

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