Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 42: Unsettling Encounter

"Ma’am?" the officer prompts again, his hands grasping the sides of his bulletproof vest. He looks relaxed, but he’s probably ready to take me down if I act out of line.

Never before have I thought, oh, I should be careful or an officer might tackle me to the ground.

Yet another thing on my list of firsts in these recent weeks. If God can stop throwing these at me, it’d be great. Not a single one of them would have ever ended up on my bucket list anyway.

Resigned to my fate, I just say, "I have no idea what happened. I was going home, and she attacked me. She’s my ex-fiance’s lover." No point in mentioning his murder here; I’m sure they already know about it. And if they don’t, they’ll know all about it when they look everything up.

He nods, jotting something down in a small notebook. "And your name?"

"Nicole d’Armand."

As the officer continues his questioning, I kneel down to finish gathering my scattered papers. My hands still tremble, and I can feel the beginnings of a massive headache pulsing behind my eyes.

The crowd begins to disperse, their entertainment for the day apparently over. But I can still feel their stares, hear their whispers. In their eyes, I’m no longer just the woman whose fiancé was murdered. Now I’m also the crazy ex who attacks grieving lovers in broad daylight.

God, what a mess.

I stuff the last of the papers into my bag, not caring that they’re crumpled and out of order. All I want is to get out of here, to find some quiet corner where I can lick my wounds and try to make sense of this latest disaster.

As I straighten up, clutching my bag like a lifeline, I catch sight of my reflection in the lobby’s polished marble walls. My hair is a mess, my borrowed clothes rumpled and askew. There’s a wild look in my eyes that I barely recognize.

The officer’s voice pulls me back to reality. "Ms. d’Armand, we’re going to need you to come down to the station to give a formal statement."

I nod numbly, too drained to argue.

* * *

It’s time for dinner by the time I leave the police station.

Again.

Seriously, I should just rent a room here. I’m sure it’s far from the last time I’ll be called in for questioning. Maybe I can just rent a hotel nearby.

Oh, yeah. I need to get a new car. That would make traveling easier, too. I should do that. Soon.

Cool air nips at my skin as I stand outside the police station, waiting for my rideshare. My mind races, replaying the day’s events on an endless loop. Another round of questioning, another set of suspicious glances. I’m exhausted, emotionally drained, and desperate for a moment of peace.

Which apparently means I have a flashing neon sign above my head inviting people to bother me.

A presence materializes beside me, familiar yet unwelcome. It’s Ethan, the vampire sniffing around Penelope. Just what I need to cap off this stellar day.

"Is it too much to expect a greeting?" His voice carries a hint of amusement.

I keep my eyes fixed on the street, willing my ride to appear. "I don’t know you."

"Come now," he chuckles, his charm dialed up to eleven. "We met just a few days ago. Surely you remember?"

The sky above us is a blanket of gray, threatening rain at any moment. I find myself wondering about vampires and the absurdity of it all. Here’s this immortal creature who wields umbrellas against the sun but walks around unbothered by the prospect of getting drenched, basking in the blocked sunlight.

"How long has it been? Since you were turned, I mean."

Ethan goes still beside me, the easy charm evaporating. "I didn’t expect such a rude question from you."

A humorless smile tugs at my lips. "I’m a rude person. Don’t expect much from me."

He holds up his hands in mock surrender. "Point taken. Twenty years, if you must know."

Twenty years. A blink of an eye for his kind, I suppose. But long enough to leave a trail of broken hearts and drained victims.

"And how many women have you fed from in that time?"

Ethan steps half in front of me, eyes wide and eager. "I don’t play around, Nicole. My interest in Penelope is quite serious."

I say nothing, hoping my silence will discourage further conversation. The last thing I need is to encourage someone who really does give off stalker vibes.

My phone buzzes—the rideshare is two minutes away. Thank God.

Ethan shifts beside me, clearly uncomfortable with the prolonged silence.

"Look," he begins, his voice low and earnest. "I know you’re protective of Penelope. I respect that. But I assure you, my intentions are honorable."

I can’t help but scoff. "Honorable? You’re a vampire pursuing a human. There’s nothing honorable about that power imbalance."

Ethan’s lips curl into a smirk. "Is it really so different from a human mated to an alpha shifter?"

My eyes snap to his.

His smile widens, revealing the barest hint of fang. "Oh, come now. I know all about it. I’ve been kind enough to keep quiet, you know."

My stomach twists. I’m not sure what game he’s playing or what his end goal is, but I don’t like how he’s somehow switched the conversation from Penelope to Logan. Is this some sort of vague threat, or is it just a simple blackmail? Does he think Logan and I are actually together? Penelope mentioned there’s no love lost between them. Something about jealousy.

Maybe that’s all it is.

But with all the weird shit happening around me, it’s hard not to be paranoid.

"I’ve heard quite a bit of interesting news lately," Ethan continues, his tone deceptively casual. He’s undeterred by my lack of response, just talking away.

Despite every instinct screaming at me to ignore him, I can’t help but listen.

"For instance," he continues, "there are rumors that Officer Logan Everett has rejected his fated mate." Ethan’s eyes widen in feigned shock. "If that isn’t true, it seems he might have to be taken off a certain high-profile case. Conflict of interest, you know."

Whatever he knows, he doesn’t seem to realize that Logan and I aren’t exactly on friendly terms. I don’t care if he’s off the case.

Okay, maybe I do. The chance of someone actually being on my side isn’t one I can ignore out of pride.

"Isn’t it already be a conflict of interest, even with a rejection?" The words are out before I can stop them. Damn it. I’ve just confirmed his suspicions.

Ethan laughs, the sound grating on my nerves. "Oh, Nicole. You should know that’s not how it works when you have money and influence behind your badge."

My eyes narrow slightly. "What money and influence do you think is there?"

"That’s the question, isn’t it?"

A car pulls up to the curb, and a quick glance at my phone confirms it’s my rideshare.

Ethan, in a surprising and creepy display of chivalry, steps forward to open the car door for me. The gesture feels more threatening than polite.

"Do stay safe, Nicole," he says as I slide into the backseat.