Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 128: Just a Casual Evening

"This steak could double as shoe leather." Penelope pokes at the gray slab of meat with her fork. "What a waste of a perfectly good cow."

The clink of dishes and running water provides background noise as Logan tackles our takeout mess. My own plate sits half-empty, the congealed pasta sauce a warning sign I should have heeded.

"You’re the one who insisted on ordering from Joe’s Diner." I flip through my Magical Theory textbook, the symbols swimming before my eyes. "Two-point-three stars on Yelp should have been our first clue."

"Those hole-in-the-wall places usually have the best food." She drops her fork with a clatter. "The greasier the spoon, the better the meal."

"Tell that to my questionable alfredo." My stomach lurches at the memory of its plastic-like consistency. "I’m just praying I don’t wake up with food poisoning tomorrow. I have enough on my plate with these assignments."

The water shuts off. Logan’s footsteps pad across the floor, and the couch dips as he settles by my side. He’s like a personal heater, warming the left side of me.

"You okay?"

Snapping the book closed, I give him my best version of chipper optimism. "Just peachy. How does it feel dating a college girl?"

"Better than when I was in college." His lips quirk up. "None of them were as hot as you."

"Oh, God." Penelope launches a napkins at his head, even though they just flutter to the ground a few inches from her hand. "Get out if you’re going to be that cheesy. I can’t handle bad food and worse pickup lines in one night."

Logan’s arm slides around my shoulders, pulling me closer.

"Don’t worry so much." freewebnσvel.cѳm

"Marcus said otherwise. He made fun of me for not reading the contract before I signed it."

"I’ll get you out of it soon." His fingers trace circles on my arm. "Just be glad it wasn’t a proper magical contract."

Oh. I didn’t realize relying on a boyfriend could be so helpful. But still... "Let’s at least wait until we’re sure I won’t accidentally blow anything up."

"Can’t be that hard. People do it all the time." Logan reaches for my textbook, flipping through the pages. His eyebrows slowly pull together. "Is this written in another language?"

"No, these are glyphs." I point to the intricate symbols sprawling across the page.

"Oh, so another language."

"They’re just glyphs."

"I had no clue what any of those meant." Penelope waves her hand dismissively. "Had to use an online translator."

"There’s really an app for everything these days." Logan squints at the page. "But why is this hard for you? You’ve spent your whole career working with magic."

I turn to face him. "Do you know how to program a computer?"

"No."

"And why not? You use one every day."

"Fair."

Logan’s fingers weave through my hair, the gentle tugging sensation sending pleasant shivers down my spine. Leaning over the textbook, I read the first page aloud.

"Chapter One: Understanding Magical Glyphs." I trace the symbols with my finger. "The foundation of all magical practice lies in understanding the basic components that make up spell creation. Like letters forming words, glyphs are the building blocks of magical language."

Logan’s warmth at my side makes it hard to focus on the dry text. "Each glyph represents not just an action or element, but the intent behind it. The simplest example is the Fire glyph."

I point to a symbol that looks like a flame with a spiral at its base.

"See how the curve suggests movement? That’s because fire is never static. The spiral represents the eternal cycle of destruction and rebirth."

"And that one?"

His finger points to what looks like a lightning bolt crossed with a tree branch.

"That’s the Power glyph."

At least I know something, thanks to my background.

"The basic glyphs combine to form more complex spells." I flip to the next page. "Look at this one for protection. It uses the Shield glyph—this half-circle here—combined with the Spirit mark, showing that it guards both body and soul. Fun fact, for some reason the Power and Shield glyphs together create the basis of an anti-vampire ward."

"What’s that squiggly bit mean?" Penelope leans over, pointing to a wavy line intersecting the shield.

"That’s the Flow modifier. It makes the protection spell flexible instead of rigid. A rigid shield can shatter, but a flexible one bends with the attack. A common variation in wards."

"This is giving me flashbacks to geometry class," Logan mutters.

"Art," Penelope says. "Definitely Art. I drew a lot of stick figures."

A loud clang draws my attention, and I glance over my shoulder to see her dumping her steak in the trash. When she catches my eye, she asks, "Want me to toss yours too?"

"Please." My alfredo is already rebelling in my gut. "I’d rather eat cardboard."

"At least cardboard wouldn’t fight back." Penelope stacks our plates, the ceramic clattering as she carries them to the sink. "Next time we’re ordering pizza."

Logan’s hand stills against my scalp. "I’ll stop by tomorrow. And the day after. I’d sleep here, but Marcus threatened to trespass me if I do."

"Remember the house rules." Penelope points a soapy spatula in our direction. "This is a no-sex zone when I’m around."

"That’s not why—"

"We can be quiet," I whisper against Logan’s ear, delighting in the way his breath catches.

"I heard that!" Penelope’s voice carries from the kitchen, echoing off the walls in this giant space.

Logan’s chest rumbles with laughter, but his expression sobers as he tugs my hair playfully. "Get your head out of the gutter. I’m more worried about Shadow showing up again."

The name sends ice through my veins, but not from fear. More like resignation and a big dose of cock block. I shrug, settling deeper into the couch. "Not like I can keep him out."

"That’s what worries me."

"He hasn’t killed me yet."

"Yet," he points out. "He’s killed someone before, though."

"Any idea who’d hire someone like Shadow?" I trace the glyph in my book, not really seeing it anymore. "Not a shifter, but turns into a panther?"

Logan’s fingers tighten in my hair, the sharp tug making me wince. "There are thousands of people who’d kill for that kind of talent. Hundreds of thousands, even."

"That narrows it down."

"Could be anyone from private collectors to corporations. Magical artifacts dealers. Black market runners. Intelligence agencies. Even some of the old families keep shifter bodyguards."

"Great." The textbook falls shut in my lap. "So we’re looking for a needle in a haystack the size of North America."

"More like the planet."