Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha novel Chapter 93

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Chapter 93: Spirits

The bitter taste of that wretched soup lingers on my tongue, no matter how many times I rinse with water. My stomach churns at the memory of its murky green color and the way it slides down my throat like sludge. Every time they bring it, I gag, but Dr. Reeves watches until I finish every drop.

Time blurs. Sleep. Wake. Examination. Soup. Sleep again. The purple lines that traced my veins like toxic rivers slowly fade, along with the bone-deep ache that made even breathing hurt.

A tickle on my nose pulls me from another drug-induced nap. I blink, then freeze. A sphere of pale blue light hovers inches from my face. Within its glow, features shift and change - the suggestion of eyes, a nose, the curve of what might be a smile.

I hold my breath, certain I’m hallucinating. The orb bobs closer, and I could swear it’s studying me with curiosity. A delicate tendril extends from its form—an arm? A hand? It reaches toward my cheek.

More lights drift into view, each one unique in its movements. They dance around me like playful fireflies, their blue glow casting gentle shadows on the walls. One floats past, and I swear I can see what looks like tiny fingers trailing through the air.

My muscles protest as I push myself up to sitting position. The orbs scatter momentarily, then return, circling me with what feels like enthusiasm. Though they make no sound, their movements remind me of excited children.

One of the lights breaks away from the group, zipping toward the door. My gaze follows it, and my breath catches.

Dozens of similar orbs cluster near the entrance, but these glow a dull burnt orange, their light muted compared to the vibrant blue ones around my bed. They huddle together like refugees seeking shelter, and something about their dimness makes my heart ache.

"You can see them."

Jim’s voice startles me. I’d forgotten he was there, as still and silent as ever in his chair. His statement holds no surprise, only confirmation.

The blue lights swirl faster around me, as if responding to my spike of adrenaline. One brushes against my arm, its touch like static electricity against my skin.

"See what?"

"The spirits."

Jim lifts his hand toward one of the blue orbs dancing near my shoulder. The light spirits scatter like startled birds, their glow dimming as they retreat into the shadows. My heart sinks at their absence; they’re the most friendly things I’ve encountered in this strange place.

"What are you talking about?" I keep my voice neutral, though my fingers twist in the sheets.

"Don’t play dumb." Jim’s eyes lock onto mine. "Your eyes track their movements. You flinch when they touch you. You’re not as subtle as you think."

I press my lips together, refusing to acknowledge his words.

Seconds tick by in silence. One by one, they drift back into view—but something’s different. The spirits maintain a careful distance from Jim, as if repelled by an invisible barrier. The blue ones cluster near my bed while the orange spirits hover by the door, all giving Jim’s corner a wide berth.