Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 89: You Can’t See Them?

The next day is strange.

Well, every damn day with these people is strange.

But the next day is even stranger.

Dr. Reeves or whatever his name is comes back, but this time he doesn’t even look at Jim. No words are spoken.

Blood pressure. Temperature. A strange contraption I have to blow into, but I have no idea what it does. Whatever it measures, he scribbles the information down.

Then he’s gone again.

Jim’s been quiet, too, but that’s the least strange thing about the day. He’s always been one to spend most of the day pretending to sleep. This time, he sits in a chair beside my bed, staring at the door.

Like he’s waiting for someone to arrive.

My head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. I didn’t eat yesterday. No food today, either. At least I’m not tied down anymore. Small mercies, I suppose.

Hours crawl by, marked only by the steady tick of a clock—if there was one in my room. There isn’t, of course. Only the slow change in the length of the shadows and quality of light coming through the window.

Finally, I can’t take it anymore.

"What are you doing?"

Jim’s gaze flicks to me briefly before returning to the door. "Making sure they don’t bother you."

"They? Who’s they? Dr. Eliana? Dr. Reeves?" No one else has come into the room.

He turns to face me fully. "You really can’t see them?"

Before I can respond, a loud clatter echoes from the bathroom. I jump a little, my heart pounding at the unexpected noise.

Jim’s eyebrow arches, and I swear it’s a silent challenge.

Giving him a strange look—because there’s no one here, clearly—I slide off the bed to check inside the bathroom.

The toilet lid is closed. It wasn’t before. The soap dispenser lies on the floor, its contents slowly oozing onto the tile. But it isn’t next to the sink or anything. It’s all the way across the floor.

"What the hell?"

But, hey, sometimes stuff falls. Right?

Trying to ignore the strange itching behind my shoulder blades, the same feeling I get when I watch one too many scary movies at night alone, I head back to my bed.

But something’s not right. The pillow. Where’s my pillow? I spin to face Jim, anger momentarily overpowering my fear.

"What are you doing?" I demand, fists clenching at my sides.

Jim shakes his head slowly, his expression maddeningly calm. "It’s not me. You should know this. Why can’t you see them, Nicole?"

My soul cringes. If he’s trying to tell me there are invisible people in this room... Yeah. No. "See who? There’s no one here but us!"

"Are you sure about that?" His eyes dart around the room, following something I can’t perceive. "They seem to think you’re bored and in need of company."

"Is this some kind of sick joke? Some twisted mind game?"

"They’re everywhere," he says, turning his attention back to the door. "But you can always ask them to leave. Most of them are waiting for permission."

"Who?"

Jim’s exasperated look only fuels my frustration. What game is he playing? I drop to my knees, peering under the bed. Nothing but dust bunnies and cold tile floor. I check in the drawers and cabinets on the far side of the room, even inside the bathroom again. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

My pillow has vanished into thin air.

"This isn’t funny, Jim. Where did you hide it?"

He doesn’t answer, his eyes once again darting around the room as if following invisible dancers. His lip quirks.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I spin around, half-expecting to catch someone in the act of... what? Stealing pillows?

My breath catches in my throat. There, sitting innocently atop my rumpled sheets, is my pillow. Right where it should be. Right where it wasn’t a moment ago.

"What the hell?" I mutter, reaching out to touch it. It’s solid, real. "How did you—"

I shake my head, trying to clear the confusion and fear. He’s trying to scare me. Whatever he’s doing must be a trick or talent with whatever magic he has. Silly of me to get caught up in it, to let him get under my skin.

I won’t give him the satisfaction.

Determined to regain some semblance of control, I crawl back into the bed. The sheets feel cool against my skin as I pull the blanket up to my chin. I close my eyes, willing sleep to come and carry me away from this nightmare.

Every so often, something tugs at my blanket, and I just pull it over me again. Jim seems dedicated to whatever strange game he’s playing with my mental health.

Eventually, boredom wins out, and I drift off.

The dream comes suddenly, vivid and intense. Logan stands before me, his face etched with worry. His lips move, forming my name, but no sound reaches me. The silence is eerie, oppressive.

He reaches out, his hand extended toward me. Without hesitation, I reach back. Our fingers touch, and a jolt of electricity seems to pass between us. The world flickers, like a faulty light bulb, and suddenly I can hear him.

"Nicole! Are you okay? Where are you?" His voice is urgent, tinged with fear and relief.

This feels too real to be just a dream, but I don’t have any talents in dreamwalking. "I don’t know exactly. Some kind of room. There are strange people here. A doctor named Eliana Moon. Another one named Dr. Reeves. My kidnapper. He pretended to be a firefighter and drugged me with chloroform. He says his name is Jim."

As I speak, I notice Logan’s form beginning to fade, becoming translucent around the edges. Panic grips me.

"Logan, don’t go!" I cry out, trying to tighten my grip on his hand, but it’s like grasping at smoke.

He says something, but his voice is garbled, fading in and out like a bad radio signal. I strain to catch his words, but only the last few come through clearly before he disappears entirely.

"...be there soon."

I jerk awake, my heart pounding in my ears like a roaring waterfall. Sweat drenches my skin.

The room is exactly as it was before, Jim still seated in his chair, watching the door.