I shook my head and tried to force myself not to think about sleeping with Bryce. It was surprising how difficult it was, until finally I remembered what he'd done to me, and I snapped out of it.

"You slept with Morgan," I said. "And you didn't tell me about it, and then you slept with me?"

"Couldn't help it," he repeated, again as if this was the most reasonable response in the world.

I felt another wave of pheromone-induced dizziness in which I wanted to kiss him and slap him all at once.

Bryce just sat there on the couch staring unapologetically at his wife, his baby son, and at me.

The sad thing was that when he said he couldn't help it, he'd been telling the truth, in a way. The pathogen was affecting his consciousness. It was making him want to sleep with as many partners as possible in the shortest amount of time, no matter the cost.

And yet my feelings for him had felt so real. I'd even thought a few hours ago that maybe I was falling in love with him. Was that just the effect of the pheromones too? How could I know for sure?

I backed away from Bryce, trying to distance myself from whatever strange effect his physical presence was having on my body.

As soon as I was more than a few feet away, my feelings changed. Suddenly, it seemed absolutely crazy that I'd slept with him on my parents' living room couch. My family must have heard us. What had I been thinking? We hadn't even used protection at all, but thank God I'd pulled away from Bryce at the last moment, just before he would have passed the parasite to me. But had I pulled away in time? I thought so, but I couldn't be sure.

It was only now that I realized my entire family—every one of them—was standing in the kitchen. . .

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