Page 45 of No One’s Daughter

He stopped in his tracks, and for a split second I thought—stupidly—that I’d gotten through to him. That maybe, just maybe, he’d actually consider what I’d said. Offer something resembling empathy.

Instead, he reached into his pocket and he jangled keys he must have taken from one of the beer bellies, turning away from me entirely.

Right. That answered that.

He made a beeline for a burgundy car parked just off the road, unlocking it before yanking the door open and shoving me into the passenger seat.

“I’d do as I was fucking told,” he said cooly, finally answering my question. “By the one trying to protect me.”

The door slammed shut before I could respond, the words hitting just as hard as the metal. A second later, he was in the driver’s seat like he’d never been anywhere else.

We drove.

And drove.

And drove.

Time blurred again. The roads stretched endlessly ahead of us, broken only by the occasional flicker of a distant village. We were deep in the countryside now, properly out in the sticks, where the world felt too wide and too empty all at once. It was only then that I really thought about the fact that it was me that had brought us here. Not that I had any idea of how I had done that. I had no memory of what had happened, not really. I’d never experienced anything like it, the surge that grew within me to then snap, and in the blink of an eye it was all gone and I’d awoken in his arms.

At some point, we’d stopped for petrol at a lone station that was barely lit. He’d come back wearing a black hoodie and a cap pulled low over his face, like slipping into something less recognisable was second nature to him.

Now, behind the wheel he looked… different again.

Back in control.

Less frazzled.

One hand rested loosely on the steering wheel, fingers tapping occasionally in a rhythm only he seemed to hear, the other shifting gears with ease. His focus never wavered from the road and he only spared me the occasional glance, as though checking I was still there.

It was irritating, that constant sense that he was always one step ahead.

I turned my gaze back to the window, watching the darkness roll past, my reflection faintly staring back at me in the glass.

I must have drifted off at some point, because the next thing I knew, my head jerked forward with a sharp jolt as the car hit a dip in the road.

“Jesus—” I blinked, dragging myself back to consciousness, disoriented and stiff.

“Nice drool,” Davien said, not even glancing in my direction.

I wiped at my mouth, slightly mortified. “Did you just… sit there and watch me sleep?”

“Yes,” he said flatly. “That’s exactly what I did. Drove one-handed and stared at you the entire time.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” I muttered.

That earned me the faintest exhale though his nose, an almost laugh, if I was being generous.

I shifted in my seat, stretching as much as the cramped space allowed. “You could’ve woken me.”

“You looked peaceful,” he said. “Didn’t want to ruin the illusion.”

I turned to look at him properly. “The illusion that I’m not currently being kidnapped by an emotionally constipated vampire?”

“Protected,” he corrected, though he made no comment on the latter.

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” I raised a brow. “Because from where I’m sitting, it feels a lot like abduction.”

“Mm.”