Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha novel Chapter 60

Chapter 60: Catalyst

"Ah." The panther winces, holding a hand to his ear. "Please don’t scream. No one can hear you, anyway."

My hands shake violently as I hold the knife out in front of me. "Don’t come any closer."

"I’m not coming closer. Is this close to you? I am across the room." He speaks with a strange accent. It’s not from America, but I can’t place it otherwise. If he wasn’t a violent murderer, I’d say he even sounds cultured. From Europe somewhere, maybe.

"I’m going to call the police," I warn him, cursing myself for not grabbing my phone when I had a chance. I’d been vaguely worried about things like fingerprints and evidence, and now I have to make my way back to the couch without being murdered to use it.

"Haven’t you learned? The police know nothing. They are fools. They can never catch me." Unperturbed by my threat, he walks further into the room, but still maintains his distance from me. It takes a second too long to realize he’s blocking my escape route.

Can’t go to the front door without going through him.

Stupid, stupid Nicole. I was focused on getting to my phone when I should have just dashed straight for the door.

"How did you know I was here?" he asks, sounding far too casual. Like we’re friends or something.

"What do you mean? I turned around and saw you."

"No." He chuckles. "You were like a glowing beacon of light. You did something, didn’t you? Something magical."

When in doubt, deny. "No idea what you’re talking about."

"Mm, yes. You’ve been trained well, child." He checks the locks on the door, nodding in satisfaction. "Good. You are careful with your safety. But you should lock your windows, too. There are dangerous things in our skies." freeωebnovēl.c૦m

My mind flickers to that weird dragon-thing the night we first met.

"What are you doing here?" He doesn’t seem in a rush to kill me. My palms sweat around the handle of the knife, leaving it slippery in my grasp.

"To see you, of course."

"Why do you want to see me?"

He sighs, sounding almost light-hearted in his exasperation. It’s as if he’s dealing with a particularly slow child, and I’m that child. His movements are fluid as he walks toward me.

I step back, my grip tightening on the knife. My heart pounds so loudly I’m sure he can hear it. "You said you weren’t going to come closer," I remind him, keeping my voice firm and steady.

Don’t be a pushover. That’s how people die.

His lips curl into a half-smile. "That was before you lied to me, little one."

The pet name sends a chill down my spine. "I didn’t lie—"

"Tsk, tsk." He wags a finger at me. "You claimed ignorance about the magic. But we both know better, don’t we?"

I swallow hard, my mouth dry. This is a line of questioning I don’t want to go down. "Why don’t you explain it to me? Because I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Humans with magic aren’t uncommon. Witches, wizards, sorcerers—they have many names, depending on which guild they’ve associated with. Mere magic shouldn’t get this much scrutiny. But the powers I have are almost forgotten in this world.

He takes another step forward, and I retreat until my back hits the stove, its knobs digging into my back. The knife in my hand feels useless as I recall how swiftly he can take down a human.

"Your aura flares when you lie," he says, his voice silky smooth. "It’s quite beautiful, actually. Like watching the northern lights dance."

I blink, momentarily thrown off by the poetic description. "My... aura?"

He nods, seeming pleased that I’m engaging. "Yes, your magical essence. It’s quite strong, you know. Untrained, but potent. Your control is terrible. It’s leaking everywhere."

"I don’t have magic," I say, but we both know it’s a lie. "I’m human."

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify