Chapter Ten
Vanek
The previous day had passed in a bit of a blur.
After hearing from Harlow’s own lips that she wished he would kiss her again, he’d vowed to do just that. But by the end of the day both of them were sweaty, tired, and truthfully more than a little grumpy. The timing just hadn’t been right, and he’d feared that trying to kiss her then would have just made everything worse, not better. But today…today he was going to change that!
The float was starting to come back to shape, and he figured they only had a few more days of work left on it. Which was a blessing, because at some point he was going to have to tell her that the new float wasn’t coming. Not until they were mated. Then, and only then, was he going to get the money for it. Probably.
It would be just like the military to go back on their offer, even if he and the other dragons were able to kill one of the Outsiders. The more he worked with them, the more Vanek realized that Colonel Mara was an exception, not the norm. If everyone were more like her, then they might have a chance when the invasion came. And come it would.
Vanek had seen the footage from the portal in the mountains. Visions of the serried ranks of dragon-sized Walkers and the smaller foot soldiers they’d fought so far danced in his nightmares, surrounded by fire and flame as they walked across the surface of the Earth, killing anything and everything in their path. If they were to have any hope at stopping them, they would need the might of many more dragons. Three was not enough.
His plan was to kiss Harlow before he told her about the lack of new float. Hopefully that would put her in a better mood to receive the bad news. He was going to work tirelessly until that old float was fixed, though, and he just had to hope that it would be enough. If she truly was his mate, she wouldn’t hold it against him.
No, he doubted Harlow would be angry. Disappointed, yes, which ultimately was what he feared even more. Anger was something that could be dealt with, taken apart with logic until it was deflated, cooled, and forged into something else.
Disappointment in him was the single worst feeling ever. It hurt. Knowing that he had to disappoint his mate—to tell the one woman he cared for more than anything that he couldn’t give her everything she wanted—that was worse than anything else that could be done to him, with perhaps the exception of knowing he’d failed others.
Both of those cut deeper than any knife, threatening to make him miserable and worse.
He walked up to the warehouse, a big corrugated metal building surrounded by dozens of others just like it in one of the various industrial areas of Barton City. They dotted the perimeter of the city, though this one was nearer to downtown, a remnant of the days when the city was much smaller. He grabbed the door and tried to slide it aside. It moved perhaps half an inch and then clanged to a halt.
“What the hell?”
It was always open. He purposefully showed up after Harlow did to ensure that he wouldn’t be caught standing around outside. Men of his size and build often received unwarranted attention when they loitered, and he preferred to stay unnoticed as much as possible.
He tried again, careful not to use his massive strength to break the steel by accident. It was definitely locked. A quick peek inside the window to the right of the door showed it to be dark inside. Nobody was there. Slightly concerned, he took out his phone, using the still somewhat unfamiliar device to text Harlow, asking if everything was all right and if she was coming to the warehouse today.
Pacing back and forth in front of the man-sized sliding door he waited, impatiently checking his phone every few seconds to ensure he hadn’t somehow missed a reply. After ten minutes had passed he did a lap around the building, checking to see if the big doors on the far side were open instead, but a tug on those proved that it was all locked up just as tight as it had been the night before.
He reached the normal entry and pounded his fist on the door in frustration. As he did the wind picked up slightly, a light gust. It brought to him the sound of something nearby flapping, as if stuck. He looked around, and then at last looked down at the ground.
Next to the door was a chunk of rock, with a piece of paper underneath it. He growled angrily, upset at himself for having missed this the first time around. But when you were so high off the ground, looking at it just wasn’t second nature. Why hadn’t whoever it was that put it there tape it to the wall, or jam it in the door?
Both irritated and fearful, he opened the letter and read it.
Vanek,
I’m sorry to do this, taking the coward's way out, but here I am. I don’t have the courage to do this to your face, but trust me when I say that you deserve much, much better. One day I hope you find it, but I know it won’t be from me. I’m not that sort of girl, and I can’t give you what you need.
I’m not coming back to the warehouse today, in case you haven’t figured that out. I have a meeting with another client soon, and if they don’t hire me, then I’m not sure where I’ll go from here.
I wish things could have worked out between us, Vanek, but this is for the best. I just can’t do this. Not again.
Goodbye,
Harlow
His fist tightened around the letter in anger.
“HARLOW!” he bellowed, lashing out with his free hand.
The metal door shrieked and was ripped from its hinges as tortured metal gave way under the hammerblow. The rectangular door blew inward, bouncing off the half-repaired float and skidding to the side. Several of the recently reattached bars popped loose and Vanek lost his temper with a shriek. He ripped the other sliding door from its mount and hammered it into the ground until it was a warped shape, unrecognizable as the door it had started in.
Then he dragged the misshapen lump of metal into the warehouse. Vision clouded with red, he grabbed the first piece of solid steel he could find and started slamming it into the former door until both pieces were twisted behind recognition. His hands were bleeding from where they’d impacted as well, the blood making his grip slippery. With a final roar he raised his hands above his head to smash the pipe down, but it slipped from his fingers and went sailing across the warehouse, crashing down loudly into a corner.
Vanek looked at his blood-soaked palms, chest heaving from the exertion. He sat down abruptly, his anger, once towering and unstoppable, gone in an instant. Shame at his actions filled him, even as the paper crinkled in his back pocket. There was no memory in his brain of stuffing it there, but he was glad it hadn’t gotten lost.
“How could you do this to me, Harlow?” he asked to nobody in particular. “Without even giving me a chance to explain, or a real reason? What did I do to wrong you so?”
Failure.
The word slipped into his mind, entrenching itself front and center like a flashing neon sign, reminding him that he’d not been a good enough mate. Just like he’d not been a good enough leader.
You’re going to ruin everything for everyone. Again. It’s all your fault.
Aimlessly he got up and wandered over to the single washbasin in the warehouse, splashing water onto his hands and wrists. The clear water soon turned pinkish-white as he cleaned the blood from his already-healed hands. The minor cuts and scrapes were gone, and the bigger lacerations already healing with fresh pink skin. In another half an hour there would be no signs left at all.
If only he could say the same for his heart.