Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 61: Explosive Headline -- END BOOK ONE

Dragons.

"That thing the night we met—"

"The dragon."

"Ah. So it was a dragon."

"Yes."

"It didn’t have wings."

"Not all dragons have wings."

"Ah."

Silence falls as I work through his bombshell.

"So these dragons... They’re after me?"

He snaps his fingers. "Now she’s getting it."

The humor throws me off guard; it seems out of character for this strange not-a-panther-shifter. "And your job is...?"

"To prevent them from getting what they want." He gestures toward me. "You."

"Because I’m a... Catalyst, is that what you said?"

He tilts his head. "Yes. You used those powers the night we met. You helped me shift. That’s when I suspected you were the target."

"Okay." I nod slowly.

The guy might just be a complete psychopath, but at least he seems to somewhat understand what’s going on. I need to milk him for as much information as he’s willing to give me. The longer we talk, the more I’m convinced he isn’t going to kill me, though it’s still unclear why he would attack Officer Nancy. "Can you explain all of this from the beginning?"

He glances at the clock on the wall. "I don’t have such time."

"Okay, then what happened the night we met? Why were you there?"

At some point, his eyes have gone from golden to dark brown, no longer near-glowing. It makes him seem more human and approachable. "I was tracking my subject."

"Your subject—the dragon?"

He nods.

"Why?"

Impatience returns to his face. "To see what he was looking for. To understand why he’s here. Dragons were banished long ago; they should not be here."

"Banished? I thought they just left."

He shakes his head in exasperation. "Do you want a history lesson?"

Yes, actually, but maybe not right now. Keeping my eye on the prize, I ask, "So, what happened?"

"I tracked him over the skies of your strange mountain castle."

"The Fernsby estate."

He inclines his head. "Yes. He seemed to be waiting for someone. When you arrived, he followed you."

My skin prickles. I was followed from the mansion, and never caught sight of him.

But he’s still talking. "When he went in for an attack, I intercepted. Things didn’t go well."

"Wait." I hold up my hand. "You said the dragons want me, for my powers. But that dragon tried to kill me."

"Did he?" His smile is humorless. "You were in no danger of dying that night."

"I was poisoned. I spent three days in the hospital."

He shakes his head. "It would not have killed you. You may have wished for death, but you would have survived, even without intervention. Your alpha wolf wasted his time chasing down that contract."

My eyes narrow. "What contract?"

He glances at the clock again, and sighs. "Time is up, little one. I cannot stay any longer."

"No way. I have more questions—"

But he disappears, right in front of my face.

Just in between one blink and the next, he’s gone.

Son of a bitch.

* * *

When Penelope returns home just before dawn, I’m sitting at her coffee table with papers everywhere.

"What the hell is going on here?" she asks slowly, hanging her purse up beside the door.

I grunt. "Long story short, panther-man visited last night. Spoiler: He’s not a panther shifter. No idea what he is, though. He’s both easy and hard to get answers out of."

"What do you mean, he visited?" Her eyebrows snap together. "You didn’t open the door to a murderer, did you?"

"Hah!" Dragging my gaze from the paper in front of me, where I’ve written down as much as I can recall from my conversation with the strange man, I grimace in Penelope’s direction. "No. He broke in somehow while I was sleeping."

She glances around. "And you didn’t call the police?"

"Nope." I could have—and maybe I should have—but I already know deep down they’ll find nothing. And, as horrible as it might sound, I’m starting to believe the guy might actually be protecting me from something.

His story’s far-fetched and crazy, but it’s also the only thing that kind of makes sense.

"Okay..." Penelope sits beside me, grabbing my hand. "Nicole. You can’t just drop this on me and not explain. Why wouldn’t you call the police when someone breaks in? The guy murdered a police officer in front of you."

"I know." Shoving a paper in her direction, I ask, "Are you ready for an insane story?"

She glances at my writing scribbled all over it. "Officer Nancy... had plans for you? What does this mean?"

"Great question. What does it mean? That bastard left before I could ask more questions." Annoyed again at how quickly he vanished, I grab my coffee to gulp it down.

Only it’s empty. Again.

"Damn it. Hold on, let me make more." How many cups have I had? Five? Six?

Penelope puts her hand over my cup and shoves her face into mine, our eyes only inches apart. "Nicole. Calm the fuck down and talk to me, girl. Your mind’s going a million miles an hour. I can tell."

I blink at Penelope, her intense gaze pulling me back from the whirlwind that is my brain. Chastised, I sit back down.

"Okay, okay. You’re right. I’m sorry." I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. "Last night was... intense."

I quickly recount the events, my words tumbling out in a rush. The mysterious appearance of the panther-man, his cryptic statements—though I gloss over my powers—and the revelation about dragons.

With each detail, the lines in Penelope’s forehead grow deeper.

When I finish, she rubs her temples. "Nicole, honey, do you really believe this guy? I mean, he literally murdered someone in cold blood right in front of you."

"I don’t know, Pippa. It sounds insane, I know. But there’s something about him, something that makes me think he might actually be trying to protect me. As crazy as that sounds."

Penelope sighs. "I don’t like this." She pauses, biting her lip. "Look, there’s something else. I have some news about Logan."

My heart skips a beat. "Did he respond to your texts?"

Her expression turns grim. "You better sit on the couch for this one."

A knot of dread forms in my stomach as I move to the couch. Penelope grabs the remote, turning on the TV and flipping to a news channel.

"It’s been breaking news since I got off work," she says softly. "All over the radio stations, too."

The familiar jingle of a breaking news alert fills the room, and I watch in stunned silence as the reporter’s face appears on screen.

"In a shocking turn of events, Logan Everett, a sergeant of the Supernatural Enforcement Division, has been arrested in connection with the strange deaths of ten supernaturals in the area."

They show a picture of him, of course. Smack dab in the center of the screen.

"No," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "That’s impossible."

The reporter continues, and I’m stunned to hear the names Mr. Fernsby had given me, what seems like ages ago.

But what makes my heart drop to my feet are the two names at the end of the list.

Scott Bower.

Jonathan Fernsby.

"You’ve got to be fucking kidding me," I whisper.