“Too bad. Get in or I’m leaving you here.”
He growled. Actually growled at my car. But he yanked open the passenger door and folded himself into the seat.
It was ridiculous. He was way too big for my tiny car. His knees hit the dashboard. His head brushed the roof. He looked utterly absurd, crammed into a space meant for normal-sized humans.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed.
His head whipped toward me, eyes narrowed. “You find humor in my discomfort?”
“I’m sorry, but yes. You look like a Great Dane trying to fit in a cat carrier.”
“I do not know what those things are.”
“Trust me, it’s accurate.” I was still laughing, trying to catch my breath. God, when was the last time I’d laughed this hard?
He was staring at me. The intensity in his gaze made my laughter die in my throat. He wasn’t angry. He was watching me the way a wolf watched the moon. Hungry. Awed. Possessive.
“You should laugh more,” he said quietly. “It suits you.”
The car suddenly felt smaller. The air between us felt charged, electric in a way that made my skin prickle.
I squirmed in my seat, trying to look anywhere but at his eyes. Those gray-red eyes that seemed to see straight through me. My heart was racing. My palms felt sweaty against the steering wheel. Heat crawled up my neck, and I was very aware of how close he was in this tiny space.
“Right. Well. Let’s go.” I fumbled with the keys, jammed them in the ignition, turned.
The engine roared to life.
Malachar jumped so hard his head hit the roof. “What the fuck was that?”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing again. “That’s the engine. It makes the car move.”
“The beast awakens.”
“It’s not a beast!”
I pulled out of the parking spot, and Malachar grabbed the door handle with white knuckles. His eyes were wide, fixed on the world moving past the window.
“How are you doing this?” he breathed. “How are you controlling it?”
“Steering wheel. Pedals. It’s not magic, it’s mechanics.”
“This is incredible.” He leaned forward, examining the dashboard. “What do all these symbols mean?”
“That’s the speedometer. Shows how fast we’re going. That’s the fuel gauge. That one’s the temperature. And those are just warning lights that I’ve been ignoring for six months.”
“And this?” He poked at the radio.
Static blared through the speakers. I jumped, swatting his hand away. “Don’t touch that!”
“My apologies.” But he was grinning now. Actually grinning. The expression transformed his face, made him look younger. Less dangerous. “This world has many wonders. In Lytopia, we rely on horses. Carriages. Our technology is far more primitive.”
“No cars at all?”
“None. We have magic instead. Enchantments for light, for heat, for communication across distances. But nothing like this.”
“So you’re basically in the medieval era?”
“I do not know what that means.”
