Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Rayne, who already nearly peed her pants when she saw my wolf-eyes earlier, is still nervous. For some reason, my wolf doesn’t like the scent of her fear. Like he doesn’t want her afraid of me.
Rankled is fine. Irritated is a must. Furious would be perfect.
But not scared.
I don’t like her scent when she’s scared.
Her scent isn’t horrible under normal circumstances. She has a fresh, spring aroma, like creosote and juniper. Maybe that’s why her mom named her Rayne. It’s stronger than I remember, but then, I never lived with her before. Never had to associate with her. I find it…
Annoying.
As annoying as I find her new look.
I’m especially irritated that she’s pretty enough to have human boys trying to drive her home.
The steering wheel cracks under my grip again.
Fuck. I’m going to pay for that, too.
It seems I’m destined for punishment for everything I do these days.
“Where are we going?”
“You’re getting a driving lesson.”
“Now?”
I don’t bother answering a dumb question.
“With you?”
Again, not worth answering.
“I-I can’t do it today.”
“Why not?”
“I have homework,” she says hurriedly. “And…yeah, homework.”
“Well, you’ll have to do your homework later. You’re going to spend the next ninety minutes driving this car.”
“Why? I mean, why does it have to be today? I can’t do it today.”
She’s lying. I don’t know why she’s so worried, though.
“Because I’m not going to be your goddamn Uber, Runt. You’re going to be driving by the end of the week, so we can move past this bullshit.”
“I’ve never even been behind the wheel!” she wails.
“But you have a permit?”
She nods, miserably. “Yeah. My mom made me get one last year.”
I reach for the door handle and throw the door open. “Then the time has come.” I climb out of the car and walk around.
When Rayne doesn’t get out, I yank her door open. “Let’s go, Rayne.”
She lets out a little whimper but doesn’t move. “I really…I don’t want to.”
I cock my head. “Are you scared?”
She sits perfectly still, staring straight forward as if she can pretend I’m not standing here.
“What are you scared of?” I don't know what possesses me, but I take her hand like I'm a gentleman, and we're on a date. I tug gently to urge her out of her seat and put her fake Converse high tops on the ground.
When she looks up at me uncertainly, I know I was right.
“There's nothing to it, Rayne. It's super easy.”
“Super easy for you,” she mutters. “I'm defective, remember?”
I snort. “Your genes have nothing to do with your driving ability.” Why on earth would she think that had anything to do with it? Every human drives. It's not like you need special abilities.
She takes a step then stops. “I don't even know if my feet reach the pedals.”
This time I laugh for real.
“You're not that short, Runt. I think you’re functioning from a warped sense of self here.”
As I say the words, an uneasy feeling shifts through my chest. Something slightly guilty.
I suppose this whole town, including me, has made Rayne feel like she's less than human, even.
The urge to shake that feeling right out of her comes over me, so I pick her up by the waist, which is easy because she weighs nothing. I walk a few steps around the car then drop her back on her feet and smack her ass. “You're little, Rayne, but you're not incapable of driving.”
I'm slightly disconcerted by how pleasant it was to hold her light weight with one arm. To have her clean spring scent tickling my nose up close.
She whirls and glares at me. “What kind of Neanderthal are you?” she snaps. “You can’t just go around smacking girls’ asses.”
She’s right, of course. And I’m usually respectful as hell with women, probably because Coach Jamison drilled a sense of chivalry into us from Freshman year.
I cock my head. “You’re not a girl, you’re a runt. And my stepsister. So unless you want me to spank you for real, you’d better get behind that wheel right now.”
She flushes, a blotchy pink that travels across her chest and up her neck. Again, unease shifts in my chest.
She climbs into the driver’s seat but can barely reach the wheel. I see panic on her face, like she thinks this is the position she’ll have to be in to drive.
“For fuck’s sake, Rayne. You literally know nothing about driving a car, do you?” I reach across her to pull the lever below the seat and slide it forward.
“Oh,” she says.
“Stop making this so hard.” I stomp around and get into the passenger side, sliding the seat all the way back.
Rayne hasn’t moved since I adjusted her seat. She’s just sitting there, both hands on the wheel, staring through the windshield with big bug eyes.
I let out an exasperated sigh. “Right pedal is the gas. Left is the brake. You use the same foot for both.”