Page 28 of Sheltered in the Storm

“Well, you found someone who doesn’t automatically think you’re a monster,” I said, and he blinked at me. “And I didn’t ask what others thought of you; I asked why you callyourselfa monster. Do you think being a killer makes you a monster?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice quiet.

“Would you consider me a monster?”

His brow furrowed. “You are no kind of monster.”

I snorted, then flinched because it hurt my abdomen. “You know me so well that you can make that assessment? Maybe you see what you want to see when you look at me, then. I’m a killer too, many times over. If that’s all it takes to be a monster, then that’s what I am.”

Vos didn’t like that at all, judging by his deepening scowl and the uneasy way his tentacles swirled in the water.

“You had no choice in the arena,” he said. “Or in your fighter.”

“You had no choice in the Guard,” I countered. “And I didn’t just kill in the arena and in my fighter. I took the scenic route from Ganai to the Alliance Defense. Traveled from planet to outpost to colony to more planets, doing what I had to in order to survive until I got to the Defense recruitment outpost on Havel Prime.” I rested my head on his tentacle again. “There are bodies behind me, Vos. A lot of them, same as you. So you don’t have a monopoly on that monster thing.”

He studied me for a long time, clearly trying to figure out a way to justify his assessment of himself without condemning me too.

I understood him fairly well for having only known him a few days. Part of that was due to his candor, but I couldn’t shake the feeling the resonance of the true mate physiology had something to do with this level of comfort between us. He certainly had an uncanny ability to understand my needs, both physical and emotional.

Maybe that was why every morning when I woke and Vos wasn’t next to me in his bed that I felt like someone was missing, when I’d never felt that way before. Not ever.

And maybe that was why I’d told him the truth about my past. I’d certainly never felt compelled to tell anyone else I hadsurvived Ganai's arenas. I usually made up a story of growing up in a frontier colony and being orphaned in a plague or raider attack. Before this, I’d found it much easier to deal with sympathy over a lie than real care about the awful truth.

More than anything, though, I let Vos into my secrets because he was the first person I’d ever met whose eyes reflected the same darkness I saw when I looked in the mirror. Plus, he deserved to know I might have fallen from the sky, but I was no gift from the heavens.

I didn’t know what he might say next, and I certainly didn’t anticipate what he did: he cooed.

Maybe it wasn’t all that unexpected. I probably radiated anger, pain, grief, guilt, and more, so of course he’d instinctively wanted to help. All my tension slipped away, leaving me warm and relaxed. Even my aches and pains faded.

He instinctively made a sound that was just meant for me, designed to heal my hurts, whatever they were. That was a treasure in itself and not something I should just throw away for a reenlistment bonus or a nebulous dream of traveling the galaxy, as if I might somehow find happiness on some starship or distant world without finding it in myself first.

“Have I destroyed your vision of me?” I asked.

“Destroyed my vision of you? Never.” He cupped my face then, so gently I could have fallen asleep with my head on his tentacles. It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened, and hopefully it wouldn’t be the last. “Calla, the more fully I see you, the more I know my soul fits to yours.”

Those sweet words gave me the courage to murmur, “I would like to start over again, if you’d be willing to consider it.”

His breath hitched and his tentacles vibrated.

“I understand if you don’t want to,” I continued. “I know I hurt you when I said I didn’t want to stay here. At the time I did intend to leave as soon as I was able, but I’ve realized over thepast few days that I didn’t give the situation as much consideration as you deserved. I’m sorry for that.”

“Please do not apologize.” Vos inhaled deeply. I could only imagine how conflicted he must feel. “I have also come to understand that it was unfair of me to reveal so much to you only minutes after you awakened in a stranger’s home following such a traumatic incident. I was so lost in my own emotions that I did not consider the reality of the situation as logically as I should have. From my hearts, I apologize for placing you in that position.”

“Apology accepted.” I waited a beat, then asked, “So starting over…good idea? Bad idea? Need to sleep on it? Maybe drink on it?” Was there even booze on this moon?

His eyes blazed with silvery-blue fire. “I would cut my way through the entire raider camp for the chance to start again.”

His ferocity stirred something in my belly: a kind of longing, mixed with gratitude and hope. “You don’t have to go through any more raiders, Vos. I’m right here.”

“I am more grateful for that fact than you will ever know.” He rested his head against mine and made a low, rumbly sound deep in his chest. “Has the bath helped your pain?”

“Yes—with the aches, anyway.” I sighed. “I’m sorry to ask, but could you wash my hair? Trying to raise my arms over my head hurts so badly.”

“I am happy to help.” One of his tentacles coiled around a bar of soap that smelled sweet. “This will cleanse and soften your hair. I made it myself, for my own hair.”

I feigned indignation. “Are you saying my hair isn’t soft?”

“It is wonderfully soft,” he said quickly. “I wanted to assure you it would remain so.” After a hesitation, he asked, “Were you teasing me?”

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