Page 16 of Darkhan

Zeno opened his mouth to ask about it, but she didn’t let him.

Harmony pulled her hand away and pushed at his chest until he eased his grip, letting her up, letting her slide to his side. Her brow was still pinched and her shoulders tightened, like she wanted to curl in on herself. “You … you didn’t claim me.”

Chapter Seven

Harmony felt irrationally, unacceptably exposed as the reality slammed into her. Despite his heartwarming words and searingly wonderful touches, she’d given him a chance and still Zeno hadn’t chosen to claim her. She didn’t understand. He had insisted he’d been searching for some obscene amount of time,hundredsof years, for his one predestined mate. He had insisted that was her. Yet he hadn’t claimed her.

She watched his lips dip into a subtle frown and her breath lodged in her throat as she waited for his response.

“Of course I didn’t.” His words may as well have slapped her straight across the face.

Harmony began shaking her head and pushed further away from him, doing her best to keep the tears at bay.Of course he didn’t.Did that mean he’d lied all this time? Had she been a fool for even considering what he’d been saying to her? A fool so desperate for escape from her cage that she’d fallen right into his trap?

“Harmony,” he said, stretching out an arm as if to catch her. To stop her.

An option that was somehow even worse whispered in the back of her mind. Maybe he hadn’t lied at all. Maybe every word had been true, but the afternoon they’d spent together—and seeing her body unwrapped and exposed as it was—had convinced him he didn’t need her. She wasn’t good enough.

Her feet nearly slipped over the beautifully polished hardwood floor as she made a dash for what looked like his bathroom. Her body was tired and she was humiliatingly nude, but she didn’t know what else to do. Where else to go. It wasn’t like she had a home to go back to. Or even a hotel. Hell, she no longer hadclothes.

She choked on a sob as she clicked the lock into place,ignoring Zeno’s voice on the other side of the door. The sturdy thud of his fist—she assumed—connecting with the door was a little harder to ignore, but he didn’t break it down. Though he certainly could have.

She stumbled away from it and dropped onto the toilet, but even once she’d cleaned herself up from that she still felt wrong. Exposed, sticky, uncomfortable. Disgusting.

I’m either the world’s biggest fool or so repulsive even my fated mate doesn’t want me.

“Harmony, I can smell your tears through this door,” Zeno called again. His voice was louder and sounded angrier, rougher, than she was used to. “Don’t think for a second I won’t tear this door down. Come out here and let me explain.”

Her hands balled into fists, anger helping for a moment to stifle her pain. She shouldn’t be hurt. She’d been used. She was being tossed aside. What she ought to be feeling was outrage. “Just give me space!” Her gaze swept over the spacious bathroom, searching for anything she could use to her advantage. She wanted to step into his luxurious-looking shower and soak until her skin was raw. First, she needed to be sure she would get the opportunity.

“Harmony, I don’t understand—”

She slid open a drawer and found a pair of trimming scissors. They would have to do. Plucking them from within, she shouted, “Leave me alone or I swear I’ll plunge these scissors into my wrist.” It sounded horrible and a part of her questioned whether she could go through with it.

But would that be so much worse than continuing to be used?

The air itself felt heavier in the silence that followed. Then, quieter, Zeno said, “You wouldn’t really … Harmony, please don’t do that.”

“Then don’t make me!” She stood there for what felt likeseveral minutes before she heard another sound from him. It almost sounded like shuffling.

“I’ve set towels by the door. I’m going to change the bedsheets and leave some clothes for you on the bed, but I’ll be downstairs. Out of your way.” Another momentary pause, and something in his voice changed in a way she hadn’t heard before. “Please just let me know when you’re ready to talk.”

Talk?She bit her tongue to keep from shouting at him. She wasn’t sure she believed he was really just walking away. But then, if she was right on either of her theories, she was giving him the perfect excuse to get rid of her, too. So maybe he was.

Harmony waited until she was reasonably certain he’d left, then set down the scissors and tiptoed to the door. She pressed her ear against it, heard nothing, and cracked it open. All she found were two fluffy, dark blue towels, neatly folded and stacked directly beside the door. She scooped them up and scampered back inside her improvised shelter.

The towels went on the sizable counter, then she finally took herself over to the unreasonably large walk-in shower. Even if they showered together, there would be room for more. Not that they would. She would leave this room eventually and never return.

The thought made something inside her ache sharply. She shoved the pain as far from her mind as she could and started twisting knobs until she figured out the setting she wanted. When the water was hot, Harmony stepped beneath the spray, tilted her face up, and let herself cry.

It was like releasing the gate on a dam. In seconds she had collapsed to her knees, her body shaking beneath the spray from the onslaught of her tears. She wasn’t even sure why it was as upsetting as it was. Sure, it was humiliating and insulting, but she was crying as if he’d broken her heart. She sort of felt like he’d broken her heart. It made no sense. Even if he’d been tellingthe truth about their destinies, she was human, and he hadn’t claimed her. His rejection shouldn’t hurt as it did—right?

Harmony had no answers. She couldn’t organize her thoughts well enough to think past how badly it hurt and much she just wanted to be wrong.

Everything had been perfect up until she’d come to that horrible, gut-wrenching realization. He’d been wonderful with her. The perfect combination of gentle and passionate. She had honestly not truly believed sex could feel so good—she’d thought it was a fantasy written about in romance books specificallybecauseromance books were escapist fantasies for women. It wasn’t like she had anyone she could ask. It wasn’t like the one guy she’d let kiss her on one of the rare days she’d been on a college campus had made her feel anything remotely like what she felt when Zeno made any sort of contact with her. There was no comparison.

He doesn’t want me.That was all there was to it. She was only hurting herself by thinking about anything else. By lingering.

Zeno had taken her innocence, perhaps hoping he’d feel more drawn to her than he did or perhaps because he thought he was entitled to it, she didn’t know. But he had no intentions of keeping her heart. He was an ass for that, probably, but she wasn’t blameless, either. She’d asked—begged—for his touch. She only hadn’t known the ultimate outcome.

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