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“Ease your foot off the brake,” he murmured.
The moment she did, the truck began to lightly roll. “Now gently press the gas. The pedal to the right.”
Her foot tapped it and the truck lurched.
Baptiste, who’d grabbed hold of the wheel, yelled, “Take your foot off.”
The truck slowed.
“Okay, this time do it slowly. You want to work up to speed.”
This time, she managed to get them rolling without the jerking. The road ahead beckoned and she couldn’t help but smile as she crowed, “I’m driving!”
“You are but do me a favor and don’t crash.”
“Fear not. I shall master this skill,” she promised.
Their first full stop at something he called a red light gave them what he called whiplash. But after that, she grasped the concept. He let her drive until he claimed the roads would get busy and dangerous for a new driver.
She allowed him to take over and spent that time observing what he did. If she could drive, she could get that license Nelly spoke of, and then she wouldn’t need to ask for help.
Their voyage took longer than the eight hours he’d claimed. A tire that required changing because it went flat had them waiting overly long for something called a “tow truck” that didn’t actually tow them. Then there was construction on their roadway. The fourteen hours left Baptiste droopy-eyed. When he recognized the sign for an inn, he insisted they stop for the night despite being close to their destination.
He pulled a plastic rectangle from a secret drawer in front of her seat—he called it a glove box despite it having no gloves—and used it to rent them a room with two beds.
“Sorry, we have to share. Not sure how much room my card’s got to spend,” he apologized.
“It makes sense we stay close to one another. We can take turns on watch.”
“Pretty sure we don’t need to do that. The door is locked, and no one knows where we are.”
Since he would simply argue if she tried to explain she agreed. He’d soon learn what it meant to travel with the Mother’s paladin, just like Nelly and Clive had. Luckily Clive had proved very good at shielding. Unfortunately, Baptiste had no magic to set wards of any kind. He plunked himself on a bed and went to sleep.
Daphne allowed herself a light repose.
The attack came in the middle of the night.
Chapter 7
Baptiste hated how aware he was of Daphne.
She smells mighty tasty. Garou knew what it wanted to do.
Not so Baptiste. No sniffing. No looking. Definitely no touching.
His last relationship had ended in tragedy. The obsession caused by a spell had failed as well. He was better off never getting involved with anyone ever again.
Says you.
Yes, says me. He didn’t deserve to be involved with anyone.
So he lay on the bed, facing away from the one holding Daphne. Unable to sleep. How could he when he could hear her breathing?
What was he thinking, agreeing to be her chauffeur?
You wanted to run away from your problems.
More like avoid his uncle and his insistence Baptiste lead the pack as the Garou. Not just his pack, though, all of them. His uncle wanted to make him out to be something he wasn’t. A living god on Earth that would unite all the packs under one rule.
