Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 155: Logan’s Witch

As it turns out, even Marcus can’t get his hands on any sort of artifact to change my appearance. The decision is made to invite the strange and mysterious witch of Logan’s past.

I wasn’t sure what to expect, as jealousy keeps popping up every few heartbeats to remind me of its existence. What comes through the penthouse elevator is... nothing like I imagined.

I stare at the wheelchair getting stuck on the edge of Logan’s plush rug, my mind momentarily blank with shock. This is the infamous witch from Logan’s past? This ancient crone with wispy gray hair and a face so wrinkled it resembles wadded-up tissue paper?

"Here, let me help." I hurry forward, kneeling to press down the edge of the rug so her wheels can clear it.

She smacks her armrest with a bony hand and sighs dramatically. "Cheap always comes with a hidden price." Her voice crackles like burning paper.

"Uh, yeah," I agree absently, still trying to process that this decrepit woman once had some kind of relationship with Logan.

Obviously, she didn’t.

My jealousy and the crazy scenarios its conjured fizzles into a vague, squirmy sense of embarrassment.

Before I can straighten up fully, she reaches out with surprising speed and grabs my chin between her gnarled fingers. The strength in her grip is startling as she turns my face from one side to the other, examining me like I’m livestock at auction.

"My, my," she chuckles, her breath smelling of cinnamon and something earthy. "You took him for quite a ride, didn’t you?"

I blink, heat rushing to my face. "I—what?"

From somewhere behind me, Penelope drawls, "Nicole seems pretty well caught by this point."

The witch’s eyes—rheumy and yet strangely sharp—lock onto mine. "Are we sure about that?" Her cackle sends chills racing down my spine.

Logan steps forward and yanks me backward, out of her grip. His scowl is thunderous as he glares down at her. "Are you still pretending you can’t walk, Brynn?"

The witch clutches her chest in mock offense. "I’m old! I can’t walk anymore!" She bats her eyelashes with exaggerated innocence.

Even Marcus snorts from where he leans against the bar.

Brynn places a finger against her nose with exaggerated slyness. "I’m not in the business of being stabbed by the jealous." Her gaze slides directly to me, and I feel my cheeks burn hotter.

"You don’t know Nicole very well," Logan drawls, placing a protective hand on my shoulder. "She’s too rational to stab someone out of jealousy."

My entire body wants to squirm and disappear under the floor. I’m grateful for his rose-colored view of me while simultaneously remembering the violent thoughts that flashed through my brain just moments ago when I imagined this witch’s history with Logan. If he only knew the murder scenarios my brain had conjured in the seconds before the elevator doors opened...

This bond between us is turning me into someone strange, damn it.

Brynn cackles again, clearly not buying it. Penelope snickers too, the traitor.

I shoot my best friend a dark look as Brynn wheels herself toward the couch. Then, to my astonishment, she rises from her wheelchair with surprising agility, walking the last few steps before flopping onto Logan’s expensive couch like she owns the place.

"Alright, dear," she announces, waving a hand imperiously in my direction. "Strip."

"What? No!" The words explode from me before I can stop them.

Logan steps between us, his back rigid with tension. Pheromones seep out of him in thick, heavy waves. "Stop playing around, Brynn. We need your help, not your games."

"And that’s my cue to leave," Marcus announces smoothly, already heading for the elevator. "I’ll check on those other arrangements we discussed."

Penelope wastes no time following him. "I should probably go too. Make sure everything’s... secure. At the other place."

Marcus catches her by the wrist as they reach the elevator, and I watch them go from the corner of my eye. Something’s definitely going on between the two of them, but I can’t imagine she would have fallen into his bed so quickly.

Definitely due for a girly chat when we can.

When the world calms down a little.

"She needs to be naked for the spell to work properly," Brynn insists, examining her yellowed fingernails with feigned boredom. She isn’t acting as old as she looks, and suspicion rises in my bond again.

Seriously, is it normal for all fated mates to feel all murder-y over other women?

Logan crosses his arms. "Bullshit. You’ve never needed nudity for a glamour spell before."

"Maybe not for a cheap party trick, but this is different." She taps her temple. "This is full sensory deception. Smell, touch, even magical presence. If the Nexus is after her, they won’t be fooled by basic illusion."

I stand frozen, watching them argue about my nakedness like I’m not even in the room.

But more importantly, who—or what—is Nexus?

Brynn glances at me and grins, her half-toothless mouth creeping me out. "Oh, she doesn’t know, does she?"

"Stop playing around." Logan’s words slide through clenched teeth, his jaw set like concrete.

Brynn doesn’t miss a beat. She giggles—not the tremulous sound of an elderly woman, but the delighted titter of someone who’s found a new toy. She leans forward, pressing her gnarled hands together as if in prayer, her eyes fixed directly on mine.

"Does she know about us, Logan?" she asks, batting her ancient eyelashes.

My stomach drops like I just stepped off a cliff. A vicious heat surges through my chest, something primal and possessive that makes my fingers curl into my palms. Every muscle in my body tenses. The air in my lungs solidifies.

Us. US?

Logan’s pheromones shift instantly, turning sharp and acrid. "Stop saying it like that," he snarls, his voice thick with disgust. "There is no ’us.’"

I swallow hard, forcing my voice to remain light and airy. Sweet as antifreeze.

"What exactly are you talking about, Brynn?" I ask, my smile stretching my face unnaturally.

The witch’s laughter fills the room. She throws her head back, exposing the wrinkled column of her throat.

"Oh, my dear," she wheezes, wiping at her rheumy eyes. "Logan and I have been in a lifelong relationship." She pauses, watching my reaction. "Didn’t he tell you?"

My heart stutters, then pounds against my ribs like it’s trying to punch its way out. Blood roars in my ears. I want to snatch her by that wispy gray hair and drag her out of Logan’s penthouse. I want to—

"That is not what we have between us," Logan cuts in sharply, stepping between us.

The thunder in my chest grows louder.

I swallow, and it tastes... metallic. Like I’ve got a mouth full of coins.

Brynn’s chuckle turns into full-bodied laughter again. "It’s a contract, girl. A business relationship, no more." Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she wags a crooked finger at me. "Settle down those violent thoughts I see brewing behind your pretty eyes."

The relief flooding through me is so powerful it makes my knees weak. A business relationship. Just business. Not an ex-lover. Not an old flame. Just... business.

My overactive imagination fizzles out once again.

Logan’s back is to me, so he doesn’t see how my shoulders slump or how I press a hand against my sternum to steady my racing heart. His focus is entirely on Brynn, his posture rigid with irritation.

"Stop trying to rile Nicole up," he says sourly. "It won’t work."

Brynn sighs dramatically, spreading her hands. "Must be nice having someone so willfully blind." She shoots me a knowing look, and my cheeks burn. Again.

This witch is enjoying what she’s doing to me.

"You seem to like causing trouble," I mutter, finally finding my voice again.

Brynn nods sagely, her thin lips curving into a smile that’s equal parts wisdom and wickedness. "After all," she says, "it’s hard to do my kind of work without enjoying the chaos it distributes."