Page 22 of Strays
The head of the hospital bed is raised, propping her upright. Her skin is warm tan; her black hair tied in a ponytail. She has dark eyebrows, a generous mouth, and pitch-black eyes that widen when she sees us. Her gaze moves from me to Shane, then to Jay, and back to me.
And then it happens.
A sudden surge of pheromones erupts from me. A scent I’ve never smelled before floods the air, mingling with the lily perfume. I taste it heavy on my tongue, my mouth flooding with something sharp and woody, like birch bark.
The last time I had any trouble controlling my own pheromones, I was barely fourteen years old, so what the hell is wrong with me now? Panic spikes in my chest. My heart’s going so fast I’m sure I’ll collapse. I freeze… until I notice the scent has three threads.
Not one.
Three.
Jay. Shane. Me.
We’re all pumping the same stuff into the air. And somehow, that calms me. If they’re doing it too, this must be normal.
I look to the nyra again. Her nostrils are flared now, her mouth slightly open, her expression stunned. She raises her hands, trembling so badly I can see it from here, and covers her mouth and nose with both palms. On her left arm, I spot a stitched wound, the skin red and inflamed near the elbow.
Then I hear it.
A hum. Low, steady. It takes a second to realize it’s coming from us.
It’s in my chest. I feel it, rumbling deep.
How the hell am I doing this?
I try to stop. I can’t. I’m not in control of my own body.
But something about the noise catches her attention. Slowly, she lowers her hands, tilting her head, eyes locked on us with sharp focus. Then she shakes her head as if snapping out of a trance and draws a deep breath. Her face settles, calmer and resolute.
I glance at Commander Eneas. He’s smiling.
His voice cuts through the fog. “These are Kory, Jayson, and Shane Larsen,” he says to her. “As previously informed, you are advised not to disclose any personal information to them unless all parties consent to proceed with the bond.”
He turns to us. “While the goal of the Matching Program is to help scent-mates find each other, if that’s not the case here, you may still choose to proceed with a non-scent bond, if all parties agree.
“There’s no time limit for your decision, but if no choice is made within ninety days, all of your genetic profiles will be reentered into the Matching Program database and made available for new potential matches.”
His tone softens slightly as he looks at her again. “Do you want to be chaperoned by a MAB officer during this meeting, or would you prefer it take place privately?”
I only notice she’s alone when he says that. Her fathers must be nearby, maybe in the hospital cafeteria.
As strange as it is for a nyra to be left alone, I’m glad they aren’t here right now. As a stray pack, we have little chance of making a good impression on her family, but I’d still rather meet them when I’m actually capable of speaking, which is not the case right now.
Her gaze lingers on Shane, then breaks as she turns to the commander.
“I want privacy, please.”
Her voice surprises me. It’s beautiful, melodic, but also strong. Not soft or hesitant, like every nyra I’ve ever met.
The commander nods. "Alright, then. Lieutenants Tomsin—" he nods at the MAB pack, "—and I will wait outside."
And just like that, we’re alone with her.
Her lily scent is stronger now. It fills my lungs and settles deep. I’ve never breathed easily in a closed room, but now, in this tiny, windowless space, I feel like I could float.
She, on the other hand, looks like she’s ready to flee. Her gaze keeps flickering between each of us. There’s tension in her shoulders, her posture stiff. Her hands rest in her lap now, fingers still trembling faintly. She breathes in and out, slow and deliberate. I don’t know if she’s trying to calm herself down orjust struggling to breathe.
Suddenly, I feel a wild urge to go to her. To bury my face in her, to lick her from head to toe until every bit of her lily perfume is mixed with my scent. To sink my teeth into her and leave my mark.
