Page 55 of Why Cruise

My whole body went rigid. The size of the bus was suddenly too small for all the people on it.

The familiar rage built in my chest, but beneath it was something worse. Shame. They got the Pax and the hospital bit wrong. Not that it mattered. There were emergency exits on a bus, right?

“Ladies,” Mackenzie’s voice cut through the gossip, sharper now. She popped up and turned, leaning on the headrest of the seat. “You’re being weird. He’s just a person. And he can hear everything you’re saying. Have some class.”

She rolled her eyes and bounced hard in her seat with a noise of disgust. Her hand was on her knee, but her pinky stretched out to stroke my thigh. I stared straight ahead while my heart decided if it was going to beat properly or not.“Just a person.”From anyone else, that might have been insulting, but from her?

I looked down at her hand. Shit. This was selfish, but I needed just a little more of her. I laced our fingers together and put her hand on my knee. Her skin was so soft, and she was almost hot to the touch. A hint of orange blossom wrapped around me, somehow breaking through the dampeners just enough to keep the panic at bay.

“No dragon jet,” I said quietly, just for her.

She snorted. It was a delightful sound.

“Ew. What’s the point of all that money if you’re just going to have just a regular jet?”

“No jet either. I don’t fly unless I really have to. And I’ve had a lot of drugs.”

Mackenzie turned and searched my face. Looking to see if I was joking, perhaps. Her eyes were a remarkable shade of brown, like velvet that shifted slightly in hue.

Her thumb stroked my pinky.

“I bet you have a cool car, though.”

“Yeah, I do. A Kawabashi Mach 7SR roadster. Fully electric, all the bells and whistles.”

She nodded solemnly, not successfully hiding her attempt to hold back a smirk.

“It’s a cool car, okay?” I said in mock outrage.

“But does it have a stick shift?” She patted our joined hands and snuggled into my shoulder.

Mackenzie

Oh no. Oh no no no.

All. Terrain. Vehicle.

VEHICLE.

I stared at the line of “ATVs”. My heart trying to escape through my throat. They were basically motorcycles. With four wheels. That you had to drive.

Drive.

As in operate a motor vehicle.

Which I had no idea how to do because Daryl hadn’t wanted me to get a driver’s license.

“An omega doesn’t need to drive. That’s what alphas are for. Besides, you’d get distracted by hair gel and crash.”

The safety instructor was talking about throttles and brakes and something called rear differential, but I heard none of it, just the blood rushing in my ears. My fingers trembled as I tried to fasten the helmet strap, but the stupid clasp wouldn’t work.

“And remember,” the instructor’s voice cut through my panic, “these machines can reach speeds of forty miles per hour on the trails…”

Forty miles per hour?

I was going to die.

I was going to crash into a tree and die, and they’d have to scrape me off the rainforest floor and ship me home to Jillian in a jar.

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