Stray Read Free

power-period on account of my hopped-up fertility I was ready to go on a killing spree. Clear skin and bumping up a cup-size is no compensation for the rest of it, but I can’t deny Affinity nailed it where Jamie’s DNA is concerned. Looking at him makes me want all kinds of things the now reformed organisation won’t allow – “no unsanctioned affiliations”. If he reaches full signal maturity he may as well be chiselled from stone and set on a pedestal. If. There is another option, but I refuse to think about
Helena
and her miraculous counter-signal or the fact that she could give him a normal life.
    Along with the fedora and whip, he wears a brown leather jacket over a pale khaki shirt buttoned halfway, a tease of flesh in the gap. The strap of his satchel cuts diagonally across his chest. Dark pants and boots complete the costume.
    “Indiana Jones.” I want to lick my lips but press them together. “It suits you … though, isn’t that kind of the eighties?”
    “Shhh.” He lowers his voice, and tips his head at his twin. “Gestapo about her theme.”
    “Don’t criticise the theme.” Kitty raises her claws where she gleams beside Pete, dazed in his Batman suit. “The Nineties Halloween was unanimously approved by the student council. The theme is good.”
    Jamie ignores her and bounces his eyebrows at me.
    I sift for words I can say aloud, words that aren’t crazed with hormones. “I look ridiculous, don’t I?”
    “If only,” he says, in his deadpan drawl. He directs a narrow glance at Gil Bishop, who I hadn’t noticed till then. Gil blinks at me in a gormless manner. Jamie jabs him in the stomach with the handle of his whip. Nearly losing his fangs, Gil laughs and coughs, raising his hands. He winks at me and grins at Jamie. With a flourish of his Dracula cape, he turns and swoops Lila around the waist. She squeals and straightens her skirt and wig.
    Unsure what to say, I make a dismissive noise. My outfit’s not that bad, is it? Though I could go another drink. A drink of anything. Jamie makes me thirsty.
    “Hmph.” Jamie watches Kitty and Pete, his sister trailing a talon over Batman’s chest.
    Taking his face in my hands, I turn him back towards me. “Don’t be like that.”
    With a grumble, he pulls me against his chest then laughs when he finds the fake grenades on the back of my belt.
    I press up on my toes, brushing my cheek against his, searching for the spot at the edge of his jaw where it dips beneath the ear, eager for the warm scent of his skin. If I could go around all day with my nose pressed against Jamie’s neck, I would. The scent of his skin is like some kind of DNA-related catnip – my favourite symptom of our Synergist connection. I draw deeply for the subtle fragrance, but what hits me is a pheromone bomb that makes my head swim. “Whoa.”
    Jamie grips my waist to keep me from swaying and squints at me. “You all right?”
    I’m generally against public displays of affection but my whole body hums and I wish we were alone. Jamie arches an eyebrow as he reads my expression. “Better hold your breath, love.” His lips are soft, the kiss lingering and the sensation like dissolving from the inside out. His smile stretches over mine. He leans back, smacking his lips and suspicion contracts his brow. “Everton, have you been–”
    “Come on, you two.” Jamie’s mother appears beside us with a tray of finger food.
    “Yum.” Distracted like a child presented with shiny things, I disengage from Jamie and scoop an hors d’oeuvre straight into my mouth. “You’re a genius, Barb,” I mumble, mouth full. “Love the wig.” I put my arm around her waist and kiss her cheek, a salty pesto kiss. She squeaks, nearly up-ending her tray as I jostle her.
    Jamie catches it before it falls.
    “Oh!” Barb cries.
    “Whoops.” I giggle. “Sorry.”
    “You don’t know your own strength.” She smiles up at me. “It’s good to see you happy, Evangeline.”
    Is it that