Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 105: Stop Blocking Me

The nurse’s hands hover near my face, blocking my view of Logan. I jerk away, straining against the restraints to see around her scrubs.

"Ms. d’Armand, I need to check your vitals."

I shoot her my best death glare. The tube in my throat feels like sandpaper with every breath, but I’d rather deal with the discomfort than let this woman’s fingers anywhere near my face. Not when Logan might disappear the second I lose sight of him.

She’s probably a great nurse. Competent, maybe even pretty. Who knows, maybe she has seventy kids and cures cancer on the side. But right now, she’s the bitch between me and the man I thought I lost.

"Your blood pressure’s elevated." She reaches for my wrist. I curl my fingers into a fist, pulling away as far as the restraints allow.

A deep chuckle draws my attention back to Logan. "Sweetheart, let the nurse do her job."

Easy for him to say. He’s not the one strapped down with plastic shoved down his throat. I narrow my eyes at him, which only makes him laugh harder.

"There’s that fire." His thumb traces circles on my palm. "But you need to cooperate if you want that tube out."

The nurse takes advantage of my distraction to wrap the blood pressure cuff around my arm. I twitch at the contact but force myself to stay still. The sooner she finishes, the sooner she’ll move.

"Temperature’s still high," she mutters, frowning at the thermometer. "And these oxygen levels..."

I ignore her, focusing on the warmth of Logan’s hand in mine. The heart monitor betrays my spike of anxiety every time the nurse shifts between us.

"Nicole." Logan’s voice carries that alpha tone that usually pisses me off. "Look at me."

I meet his eyes, trying to convey exactly how much I hate this situation without words.

"I know you’re scared." He leans closer, voice dropping. "But I swear I’m not going anywhere. Let them help you."

The nurse adjusts something on my IV, and I flinch. Logan’s grip tightens.

"Ms. d’Armand, can you try to take a deep breath for me?"

I ignore her, keeping my eyes locked on Logan. The tube scrapes my throat raw with each inhale.

Logan’s lips twitch. "You’re being ridiculous."

I raise an eyebrow at him. Says the man who got himself blown up.

"Dr. Matthews will be here any minute to evaluate removing the breathing tube," the nurse says. "But these vitals aren’t promising."

The door opens, and a tall man in a white coat strides in. Finally. Maybe he’ll get this damn tube out so I can tell Logan exactly what I think about his heroics.

I glare at him too.

Dr. Matthews takes one look at my face and bursts out laughing. "Sarah, what did you do to get that death glare?"

The nurse—Sarah, apparently—sighs. "Nothing. I’ve been trying to check her vitals for the past ten minutes."

"She keeps blocking my face," Logan drawls, squeezing my hand.

Dr. Matthews chuckles. "Well, let’s see what we’ve got going on here." He scrolls through the tablet in his hand.

I crane my neck, trying to see around Sarah’s scrubs as she shifts position. My heart monitor betrays my spike of anxiety when Logan disappears from view again.

"Oh." Dr. Matthews pauses, looking between Logan and me. A grin spreads across his face as understanding dawns. "Oh, you’re serious."

I shoot him my best ’obviously’ look, which only makes him laugh harder.

"In all my years..." He wipes his eyes. "Sarah, step aside for a moment."

The second she moves, my heart rate stabilizes. Logan’s bruised face comes back into view, and the tight knot in my chest loosens slightly.

"Fascinating." Dr. Matthews studies the monitors. "Blood pressure drops the moment she has visual contact." He steps between us, and the machines immediately start beeping faster. "Rises when she loses sight of him."

"I told you she was being ridiculous," my stupidly egotistic not-a-boyfriend says, but his thumb never stops its soothing circles on my palm.

Dr. Matthews moves back, and my vitals settle again. "Given what you’ve been through, it’s not ridiculous at all. It’s actually a fairly common trauma response." He pulls up a rolling stool. "Though I have to admit, I’ve never seen it quite this... pronounced."

I don’t care what he calls it. As long as everyone stays where I can see Logan, they can psychoanalyze me all they want.

"Tell you what." Dr. Matthews wheels over to my other side, careful to stay out of my line of sight. "Sarah, let’s do our examination from this angle. Keep Mr. Everett in her visual field."

Finally, someone with some goddamn sense.

Sarah repositions herself, and this time I don’t fight when she checks my temperature. The tube in my throat still feels like swallowing glass, but at least I can watch Logan’s face while they work.

"Much better," Dr. Matthews says, studying the monitors.

He taps his pen against the tablet. "Your oxygen levels are improving, but I’m concerned about the fever." He glances at Logan. "Any idea what might be causing that?"

I flick my eyes to Logan, who shakes his head slightly at the physician. The serum is the most obvious reason, but there’s no way I’m spilling the beans about that here. No idea where I am. No idea who I’m with. Logan, of course, is trustworthy, but these other people...

"Could be stress-related," Dr. Matthews continues. "Though these readings are unusual. Your blood work shows some anomalies I’ve never encountered before."

My heart rate spikes. The last thing I need is this doctor discovering whatever Eliana did to me. Logan’s thumb resumes its circles on my palm, and I force myself to breathe slower.

"Now, about this breathing tube." Dr. Matthews leans forward. "I understand you want it out, but your throat sustained some damage from smoke inhalation. We need to be certain you can breathe on your own."

Yeah, yeah. That much is obvious. Just get the damn thing out. I’ll make my lungs breathe even if I have to punch them myself.

"I’m going to ask you a few questions. Blink once for yes, twice for no. Understand?"

I blink once, not taking my eyes off Logan. Couldn’t even tell you what the stupid doctor looks like. Tall, white coat, doctor-y. All I need to know.

"Are you experiencing any chest pain?"

Two blinks.

"Dizziness?"

One blink.

"Nausea?"

Two blinks.

He nods, making notes. "The dizziness could be from the medication or the head injury. You took quite a hit when the SUV rolled."

Logan’s jaw tightens at the mention of the crash. I want to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but this damn tube makes that impossible.

"If we remove the breathing tube, you’ll need to stay calm," Dr. Matthews says. "Any agitation could compromise your airways. Think you can manage that?"

I finally turn my head to give him my most innocent look. Logan snorts.

"She’ll behave," he says, but his eyes dance with amusement.

Dr. Matthews raises an eyebrow. "Somehow I doubt that." He turns to Sarah. "Let’s prep for extubation. And maybe have security on standby, just in case."

My eyes narrow.

He laughs.

"Ms. d’Armand, I’ve treated enough law enforcement to recognize that look. The second this tube comes out, you’re going to try something stupid like sitting up or talking." He adjusts something on my IV. "So let me be clear—if you cooperate and stay calm, we can discuss removing the restraints. If not, they stay on. Deal?"

I blink once, slowly. Like I have a choice.

"Good." He pulls on latex gloves. "Now, this will be uncomfortable, but try not to fight it. Ready?"