Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 91: Reaction

My stomach lurches without warning. The room tilts sideways, though I haven’t moved an inch. Cold sweat breaks out across my forehead. I feel horrible.

"How long?" The words scratch past my raw throat. "Before it’s through my whole body?"

"Already is." Jim doesn’t bother opening his eyes, head still tipped back against his chair.

I stare at my arm where the purple lines only reach my shoulder. "That’s impossible. The marks haven’t spread past—"

"Those are just a different kind of progress." His tone carries the same bored indifference as always. "The serum’s already circulating. What you see is where it’s settling in."

The ceiling spins above me. I squeeze my eyes shut, but that only makes it worse. My insides feel like they’re rearranging themselves, shifting and churning in ways that human anatomy definitely shouldn’t move.

"I think I’m going to be sick."

"Bucket’s by the bed if you need it."

I turn my head, spotting the metal basin just within view. Not that I could reach it with my arms strapped down. The thought sends another wave of panic through me.

My voice cracks. "I can’t—the restraints—"

He sighs, but finally opens his eyes. "If you’re actually going to puke, I’ll help. But don’t try anything stupid."

The room continues its nauseating spin. Every heartbeat pounds against my skull like a hammer. The purple lines creep further down my arm, branching into delicate patterns that almost look beautiful—if I didn’t know what caused them.

"What’s it doing to me?"

"Above my pay grade." Jim shifts in his chair. "I just make sure you don’t die or escape."

"Comforting." The word comes out more as a groan. My stomach rolls again, and this time I know I’m not going to keep it down. "Jim—"

He moves faster than I expect, grabbing the bucket just in time. One restraint comes loose, letting me turn enough to avoid choking as everything comes up. Jim’s hand is surprisingly steady on my back.

When I finish, he wipes my mouth with a cloth that smells too sterile, too much like this whole place. The restraint goes back on, tight but not cruel.

"Rest," he says, settling back in his chair. "Fighting it only makes it worse."

Easy for him to say. He’s not the one with living rainbow poison flowing through his veins.

Several minutes pass before I have to call him again.

And again.

And... again.

Eventually, nothing comes up. It’s just me gagging and dry heaving.

"There’s nothing left," he observes. "You don’t need the bucket anymore."

How kind.

The fluorescent lights above pulse with rainbow halos. Each blink sends daggers through my skull, but I can’t look away from the mesmerizing display. Everything shimmers like an oil slick on water.

"The lights." My voice sounds distant, hollow. "Turn them off."

"Can’t do that." Jim’s silhouette wavers at the edge of my vision. "Dr. Moon needs to monitor the changes."

A whimper escapes my lips as another wave of sensation crashes over me. My skin feels too tight, like it’s shrinking around my bones. Every hair follicle burns. The sheet beneath me transforms into sandpaper, each thread a tiny razor against my hypersensitive flesh.

"Make it stop." The words scratch my throat. "Please."

"You know I can’t."

The ceiling tiles ripple and dance. Colors bleed from the edges, painting abstract patterns across my vision. The air itself seems to shimmer, dense with rainbow fractals that scatter light in impossible ways.

My joints ache deep inside, a grinding pain. The restraints feel like bands of fire around my wrists and ankles. Even my teeth hurt, sending jolts of electricity through my jaw with each breath.

"Cold." My teeth chatter despite the sweat coating my skin. "Everything’s so cold."

Jim’s footsteps echo like thunder as he approaches. A blanket settles over me, but instead of comfort, it feels like being wrapped in broken glass. I arch away from the contact, straining against the restraints.

"Don’t touch me." The words come out as a sob. "Everything hurts."

The purple lines have spread past my shoulders now. They pulse in time with my racing heart, each beat sending fresh waves of agony through my nerves.

The room spins faster, colors bleeding together until I can’t tell where the walls end and the ceiling begins. My stomach lurches again, but there’s nothing left to bring up. Just bitter bile and the metallic taste of fear coating my tongue.

"Focus on breathing." Jim’s voice cuts through the kaleidoscope of pain. "In through your nose, out through your mouth."

I try to follow his instructions, but each inhale feels like swallowing fire. The air is too thick, too heavy with rainbow fragments that catch in my throat.

"I can’t." Tears stream down my face, their salt burning trails across my skin. "Make it stop. Please make it stop."

The lights above fracture into prisms, sending shards of color dancing across my vision. Every blink brings new patterns, new explosions of light that stab directly into my brain.

My fingers twitch involuntarily, sending fresh sparks of pain up my arms. The purple lines pulse brighter, their glow visible even through the blanket. My whole body feels like a live wire, electricity coursing through every nerve ending.

"Jim?" The word comes out as a whisper. "Am I dying?"

"No." His response is immediate, firm. "The serum’s doing exactly what it’s supposed to."

Yeah, but that’s what terrifies me most.

Another wave of agony rips through my body. A sound escapes my throat—something between a whimper and a sob. The ceiling continues its nauseating dance of colors above me.

"How are you feeling, Nicole?"

Dr. Reeves’s voice cuts through the kaleidoscope of pain. When did he come in? I blink, trying to bring his face into focus, but he’s just a blur of rainbow-tinged shadows looming over me.

"You’re an asshole." The words scrape past my raw throat. "You know exactly how I feel. Like I’m dying."

"You’re not dying." His clinical tone grates against my nerves. "This is all perfectly normal."

"Normal?" I choke on a bitter laugh that turns into a groan. "Nothing about this is normal."

The purple lines pulse brighter beneath my skin, sending fresh jolts of electricity through my veins. Every heartbeat feels like sharp pieces of glass pumping through my body.

Something cold touches my arm. Through the haze, I make out the shape of a syringe in Dr. Reeves’s hand.

"This will help with the discomfort."

A cool numbness spreads a few seconds later from my IV site, dulling the edges of the pain. My eyelids grow heavy. The rainbow fractals blur together, darkness creeping in at the edges of my vision. Through the growing fog, I hear Dr. Reeves speaking to Jim.

"Her reaction’s worse than I expected. I told her to dilute it, that a human can’t handle it at the same rate."

"Just do what you’re told. That’s what we’re paid for."

"We’re paid by idiots, Jim."

"An idiot’s money works the same as anyone else’s."

"Yeah, yeah. As long as they don’t pin me for her murder. Call me if she stops breathing."

Their voices fade as consciousness slips away, leaving me to drift in a sea of purple-tinted darkness.