Page 93 of Claimed by an Alien Warrior

He closed two hands around the wheel and tested its responsiveness and range of motion — the latter of which was somewhat restricted by the position of his right knee.

It would’ve been simple enough, in theory, to wake Zoey and ask her to explain some of the functions, but he couldn’t bring himself to disturb her slumber. Besides, he was Blade of the Aligarii; he would not be bested by this primitive technology.

Eventually, he figured out how to operate the mechanism to adjust the angle of the steering wheel and shifted it into a more comfortable position.

“Much better,” he muttered as he turned the wheel from side to side again, checking the resistance from the otherwise motionless tires. It felt strange, but he supposed vehicles limited to moving only on the ground were strange to him to begin with.

Tilting his head down until his chin was against his chest, he studied the pedals on the floor in front of him. He’d not lied — hehadobserved her frequently while she drove, and he knew the narrow right pedal was to accelerate while the other, wider pedal was to decelerate.

Simple. Easy. No challenge for a being trained to operate interstellar ships and sophisticated machines of war.

He pressed his foot on the accelerator. The engine revved with a guttural growl, but the vehicle didn’t move. Frowning, he pressed harder. The engine roared, and the movement of hidden machinery in the vehicle’s front end was strong enough to make it vibrate.

Lifting his foot, he mumbled a few of the inappropriate words he’d learned from Zoey.

What am I missing?

He glanced at her again while, in his mind, he sorted through days’ worth of memories of her driving.

Ren almost slapped himself when he realized what he’d done wrong. The vehicle had several different modes, one of which was its currently stationary state. He pressed a foot down on the wide pedal, as he’d seen Zoey do so many times, and moved the stick on the right side of the wheel down until the display showed a crescent closed by vertical line — a human symbol forforward, orgo, or something along those lines.

As he eased off the decelerator, the vehicle slowly rolled forward.

Ren moved his foot to the other pedal and pressed it down. The vehicle lurched ahead, the burst of speed forcing him back against the chair. He turned the wheel, and his stomach lurched as the transport darted onto the main road. Lights illuminated the interior from behind.

A high, droning sound, reminiscent of battle horns from the aligarii historical annals, preceded a car approaching rapidly from behind; the other vehicle sped past, a hand’s breadth from a collision.

Startled, Ren wrenched the wheel to the right to avoid the other vehicle, slamming down the decelerator. The tires screeched. His vehicle turned wildly, and he felt it trying to pitch over as its momentum dragged against its high center of gravity. He threw his weight against the spin’s force, clutching the wheel desperately as his insides seemed to mash together. The world rotated wildly around him.

Finally, the spinning ceased, and the vehicle rocked for a moment before halting completely. Ren blinked and reluctantly released his crushing hold on the steering wheel.

They were facing in the direction they’d been heading. The vehicle that had nearly collided with them was fading in the distance, little more than a pair of red lights in the darkness, like the eyes of a smug, playful predator.

Rendash looked at Zoey, ready for her to declare she was taking over and that he was never allowed to drive again.

She had turned her head toward him, features strained and brow drawn, but her eyes were still closed. “Make sure…you drive…” She yawned widely and nuzzled her face against the seat. “…the speed limit.”

Wide-eyed, he watched as she sank back into sleep. After what felt like an eternity, he released the breath he’d been holding.

Zoey slept like the dead; in most situations, that wasn’t a good thing, but he found himself grateful for it now.

His hands ached, likely due to how tightly he’d clutched the wheel, as he figured out how to adjust the mirrors so he could see behind the SUV.

Now that he had a better feel for the transport’s handling, his second attempt to get on the road was far smoother.

As he drove, something dinged at him inside the vehicle. The sound repeated a few times and ceased. After several moments, it returned, slightly faster. Keeping part of his attention on the road, he searched for the source of the sound, but it seemed to come from all directions at once.

It faded again, but when it returned for the third time, it was with an incessant insistence that almost made his skin crawl. The sound grated on his nerves; the closest thing he’d ever heard to it were impact alarms — either warning of an imminent crash, or of some sort of weapon about to strike.

Yet the road was once again empty and dark; he saw no sign of other vehicles about to hit his, no sign of weapons being discharged, and the SUV seemed to be suffering no performance issues, as far as he could tell.

“Ren,” Zoey groaned, covering her ear with one hand, “put on your seatbelt.”

Annoyed and confused, he reached over his shoulder and grabbed the latch. “I will slice you in half, vehicle, if you do not cease this noise,” he grumbled.

The seatbelt locked twice as he attempted to pull it across his torso. All the while, the sound continued, each repeated note more piercing than the last.

Heat blossomed along one of his forearms; it took him a moment to realize he was about to form a vrahsk to cut the cursed seatbelt off.

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