Page 14 of Sheltered in the Storm

“Very.” He tilted his head. “But I assure you, you have no reason to fear them.”

I had damn good reasons, but I didn’t say that aloud. “So how did I end up at your house? Did you see me crash?”

His eyes took on that silvery hue I recalled from the night of the crash—the one that had terrified me shining in the dark. “I was swimming in the ocean when your fighter crashed nearby.”

“Oh.” I touched my temple and winced when my fingertips found a painful spot that felt like a burn. “I don’t remember actually crashing, but I recall being in a boat with some men.” I met his dark gaze. “And I remember you killed them all.”

“I did.” He said it simply, as if he’d told me he’d made breakfast. “They hurt you when they took you from your fighter, and hurt you again on their boat. I am sure they intended to do more harm to you when they reached their camp.”

His tone made it clear what kind of harm he meant. My stomach churned. Still, I wasn’t convinced a wholesale slaughter had been necessary. “Who were they?”

“A group of raiders who have a camp near where you crashed. Vermin who pay little attention to those who live on this moon, but kill and steal from travelers who pass through the system.” His eyes glowed. “For the harm they have visited upon innocents, and what they did to you and likely planned to do, they earned their deaths many times over.”

The cruelty of the Atolani and his crew supported Vos’s explanation, and more to the point, his earnestness seemed utterly genuine. I had no more use for raiders than he and wouldn’t mourn their deaths.

I had one final question, and it was the one I had to steel myself the most to ask. “How badly was I hurt?”

Rather than tell me, he handed me a medical scanner that had been sitting on the windowsill and let me process the information for myself. I read through its scans and records, growing colder by the moment.

Before I finished reading the full list, I let the scanner fall from my hand onto the bed. Vos’s tentacles vibrated in obvious alarm. My nausea and chills of horror made it difficult to wonder why he seemed to care so much about me and how I felt.

“How am I alive?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “I should be dead.I should be dead.”

Vos flinched as if I’d struck him. His tentacles wrapped around my blankets and started to draw me toward him.

Angrily, I pushed hard on his chest. He let out a soft coo that somehow made my body relax and my anger and fear dissipate. My hands slid down his chest and landed on the bedding.

As good as it felt, I didn’t want anyone controlling me in any way. Not anymore.

“Stop,” I said, though my voice was ragged instead of furious. “Don’t do that—whatever the hells you just did. Don’t take away my feelings. You have no right.”

He flinched again. The coo faded. “You must not exert yourself too much.”

“I want to know how you kept me alive without a hospital.” I wanted to punch him for keeping secrets about my well-being, and I might have done it if I didn’t know it would do me far more harm than him. “Just tell me. And don’t lie.”

“I would never lie to you,” he said.

His voice and the way his gaze held mine told me he meant it, but that didn’t lessen my anger. “Stop stalling and talk.”

He took a deep breath and let it out. “My medical kits are more well-stocked than most. I am highly trained in triage care.”

“Nothing in those medical kits could have saved me. I want the whole truth or…” What could I threaten him with? I was injured, I had no weapons, and I was pretty much at his mercy. All I had was a pathetic “Vos,please.”

His tentacles caressed me again in a vain attempt to comfort me. “I told you I heal quickly.” He raised one of his beautiful tentacles, then let it curl back around my blanket cocoon. “My healing ability is carried in my blood. I shared it with you and used it in combination with conventional medical procedures to treat your wounds.”

I recalled that sweet and unfamiliar taste I thought had beenpart of a dream, or some kind of medicine or food in liquid form. My stomach roiled.

Hisblood. In my mouth, down my throat. On my wounds and into my bloodstream. While I lay unconscious and helpless.

While I laydying.

For most of my life, I’d had no control over my life or my body. I had sworn never to lose that control again, and now I had. The reasons mattered less than the memories that crashed over me like waves.

Almost blindly, I pushed his tentacles away and tried to roll over to put my back to him, but agony seared my middle. I let out a cry of pain.

“Please, Calla,” Vos said, his expression equal parts grave and grieving. He held me still with his human hand on my shoulder. His touch was warm, but I wanted to knock his hand away. “You will hurt yourself again. Even if you needed it, I cannot offer you more blood to heal until—” He cut himself off.

“Until what?” I demanded.

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