Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha novel Chapter 87

Chapter 87: The Strange Dr. Eliana Moon

"It looks like she’s waking up."

No, I’m not.

Clinging to the darkness, I beg my body to sink back into oblivion. It’s dangerous out there. Unfortunately, consciousness hovers at the edges of my mind, unwelcome and insistent. My body seems determined to move, with or without my cooperation, unresponsive to my desperate attempts to retreat from reality.

"Left eyelid twitched. Fingers on right hand curled slightly." The clinical tone of an unfamiliar voice pierces through my fog. Male. Bored. Detached.

"You sure she’s clean?" Jim’s gruff voice. My captor. A flash of memory—struggling, biting down hard. A horrifying taste in my mouth.

My tongue cringes.

"Wouldn’t be waking up with even a speck of that shit in her system." The new voice again, a distinct drawl coloring his words. "What were you thinking, anyway?"

A low growl from Jim. "Bitch bit me. Caught me off guard."

Laughter, rich and amused. "Bet that excuse didn’t fly too well."

"Shut up," Jim mutters, but there’s no real venom behind it.

I fight against the growing awareness, desperate to retreat into the safety of unconsciousness. But my body betrays me, synapses firing, senses sharpening against my will.

The smell hits me first—antiseptic, sharp and clinical. Hospital? Underneath, a hint of copper. Blood? Mine or Jim’s, I wonder. My mouth tastes like cotton, dry and unpleasant.

A dull ache radiates through my body. My shoulders burn, and my arms are twisted at an unnatural angle. Restraints, I realize with a sinking feeling. The surface beneath me is hard and unyielding. A table? Operating table?

No. Just a shitty bed, I think.

My butt hurts. And my back.

I force myself to remain still. Play dead. Buy time.

"Increased heart rate," the clinical voice observes. "Blood pressure rising. Multiple twitches, all limbs. Eye movement is significantly increased. Pretty sure she’s conscious."

Damn it.

"Rise and shine, sweetheart," Jim’s voice, closer now. His breath is hot against my ear, and I flinch despite myself. "I know you’re awake."

There’s always the option of maintaining my charade, but there’s no way they’ll buy it now. Slowly, reluctantly, I open my eyes.

Harsh fluorescent light. White walls. Stainless steel surfaces. Medical equipment I don’t recognize. It looks like some kind of lab. Clinic? Something. Not a hospital, though.

Jim looms over me, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. There’s a bandage on his forearm where I bit him. Good.

To his left stands a man I don’t recognize. Tall, lean, with sharp features and calculating blue eyes. He’s shaved so bald I can’t even get a hint of hair color. Just shiny, shiny skin, reflecting the overhead light. His skin is so pale I’d definitely clock him as a vampire on that alone. He regards me with detached curiosity, like I’m some sort of interesting specimen.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Ms. d’Armand," the stranger says, his accent more pronounced now. Boston, maybe? Somewhere around there. "How are you feeling?"

I open my mouth to speak, but only a dry rasp emerges. My throat feels like sandpaper.

"Water," I manage to croak out.

The stranger nods to Jim, who produces a bottle of water with a straw. He holds it to my lips, and I drink greedily, not caring about the indignity of the situation.

"Easy," Jim warns, pulling the bottle away. "Don’t want you choking."

I glare at him.

"Where am I?" I demand, my voice stronger now.

The stranger chuckles. "Direct. I like that." He pulls up a chair, straddling it backwards as he faces me. "You can call me Dr. Reeves. As for where you are... let’s just say you’re our guest for the time being."

"Funny way to treat a guest."

Dr. Reeves shrugs. "Precautions were necessary. Unless you prefer being dead. We could probably work around that, if you really want us to."

Well, no. Death doesn’t sound like a pleasant alternative. But that doesn’t mean I appreciate this situation, either.

I test my restraints, finding them frustratingly secure.

Jim’s eyes narrow, a warning in his gaze. "Settle down," he says, his voice low. "You’re safe enough here. Long as you don’t try running again."

Safe. Right. This situation just screams safety. Silly me.

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