Page 33 of Step Alpha

“Then why sabotage it?”

I catch a whiff of anguish in Wilde’s scent. I don’t know how I can tell. My sense of smell has never been that refined. It’s way better than a human’s but before today, I couldn’t pick up emotions and subtle shifts the way normal shifters can.

For the first time since he’s returned, I actually have some sympathy for his situation.

Because my assessment–the one I just threw out there without any prior thought–was right.

Wilde sabotaged his own success. For whatever reason, he couldn’t take it.

My chest cinches up for him.

Wilde doesn’t answer, and I don’t push. I just follow the hill down to the busy northern suburb of Phoenix. When Wilde doesn’t give me instructions on where to go, I just start taking turns–mostly right-hand ones.

Eventually, Wilde’s focus comes back to my driving, and he directs me to the DMV. “The route they take you on is right here. You come out of their parking lot there and follow this street down to the stop sign.”

I follow his directions. We do a long loop around several city blocks and end up back at the DMV.

“Now they will ask you to park in one of those spots and then to back up and do a K-turn like we practiced on the mesa.”

I go through the motions. It’s getting easier. Every minute that passes I get a little more comfortable with driving. The movements become more automatic. My reactions adjust to the Jeep’s controls to modulate speed and braking and turns.

“That’s it, Runt. That’s the test. You passed with flying colors. Tomorrow I’ll take you down, and you can get your license.”

Right. Of course. The whole reason he’s doing this is to get driving me off his chore list. Lift the burden from him and the whole family.

Because that’s clearly what I am.

“I don’t know if I’ve had the permit long enough,” I say, even though it’s not true. I don’t know what possesses me to even say it. It can’t be that I want more time being driven around by Wilde.

In fact, freedom from him–being able to drive–is exactly what I need.

“Let me see it.” He digs through my purse. “Where’s your wallet?”

“I don’t have one. It’s in my phone pocket.”

He slides the permit out and examines it. Then he turns to me, his upper lip curled in a snarl. “Today is your birthday?”

ChapterEight

Wilde

My hand closes into a fist around Rayne's permit. It breaks into a half dozen pieces. One of them digs into my palm gouging it. The rest fall into the center console.

Rayne stares at me with big bug eyes and starts to drift off the road. I reach across her to steady the wheel.

“Eyes on the road,” I growl.

I have to hand it to her, though. Even when she is scared, she gives it back to me. “What's your problem?” she snaps.

I don't even know. At least, it takes me a second to realize why I'm so pissed.

“Where's the fucking party?” I demand as if she's having a birthday bash and failed to invite me. But that's not it, of course. I already know there's no party, and that's why I'm furious.

Her mom didn't say a word to her this morning about her birthday. Rayne didn't remind anyone. I don't know why I even care, but it seriously pisses me off.

“Seriously.What's. Your. Problem?”

“I just want to know why I haven't heard a word about it.”

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