Page 31 of Sheltered in the Storm

Colorful stones from the seashore? I had little experience with such things, but Poe might have ideas for improving the appearance of these modest rooms.

Perhaps I could find some handmade trinkets in the village that would lift Calla’s spirits. Her rare smiles warmed my soul like little else. I yearned to see her smile more.

Once Calla began to heal, she might want to decorate our home in ways that pleased her. My hearts swelled at the thought.

Suddenly, Calla whimpered in her sleep. The scent of her fear and pain swirled in the air. She trembled, curling up almostinto a fetal position, her arms in front of her chest as if to protect it.

Tension rippled through my body and tentacles and made my stomach lurch and hearts ache. All daydreams of making a home with Calla evaporated.

I had not suffered a single nightmare since Calla’s arrival, as if her mere presence had banished the ghosts of my past. Even the ambassador’s child had not visited my dreams, which was nothing less than miraculous.

But sweet, fiery Calla had yet to pass a night, or even a nap, without signs of bad dreams or nightmares. Though I had resolved to keep my emotional and physical distance, I always cooed for her from the bedroom doorway and that seemed to soothe her. I did not think she knew I had done this.

Now, with our agreement to start again, I could do more.

Gently, so I did not wake her, I drew her close with my tentacles and tucked her head under my chin so my body heat and scent might offer comfort and strength. I cooed very softly, the sound thrumming in my chest. Perhaps that sensation would comfort her as well.

Did she dream of her time in the arena? Battles in her fighter? Some other torment from her past she had not yet revealed to me? Or did her deeper fears come to her in her dreams, as mine had done so frequently until recently?

In the bath, Calla had spoken so flatly, so dispassionately, about her time as a gladiator on Ganai. I recognized that tone and method of coping because I used it myself on the very rare occasions I discussed my past with Poe.

However my mate’s presence had banished my nightmares, I longed to do the same for her. But how? If she accepted me as her mate, would that offer her the same peace? Would my contentment increase as well? I did not know.

For the first time, I was angry at myself for knowing so little about true mate physiology. And with no computer terminal inmy home, I could not discover more unless I traveled to a town large enough to have one with access to the information I needed.

My desire to know more battled with my reluctance to leave Calla’s side—especially now that she had asked to start again. My soul and all my hearts were fixed on persuading her to stay.

“Keela,” Calla rasped, and let out a single sob.

A shudder of grief and guilt ran through me. Had asking about her past kindled this nightmare?

Cooing, I pressed my lips to her forehead. Her skin felt clammy despite the warmth of my body and the blankets. A single tear leaked from under one of her eyelids.

As much as she might need her sleep to recover from exercising and her bath, I could not bear to witness her pain any longer.

“Calla,” I murmured, stroking her hair. “Calla, I am here. You are safe.”

Her eyes flew open. She cried out, her hands clenching into fists.

“Calla,” I repeated. “You are safe.” Her chest heaved against mine. I cooed and stroked her hair until she took a ragged breath.

“Damn it,” she rasped. “I’m sorry.”

“You have no reason to be sorry,” I said, gently but firmly. “You did nothing wrong. You only had a bad dream.”

“Yeah, well.” Her mouth twisted. “My bunkmates weren’t very understanding when I woke up screaming. I think the rest of my squad fought over who had to share quarters with me.”

Dark humor, like the detachment with which Calla had described her time on Ganai, belied the real depth of her hurt.

“You do not need to hide your pain from me,” I said. “Your squad may not have understood what haunts your dreams, but I do.” I cupped her less-injured left cheek, careful to avoid touching her bruises. “Tell me about your dream.”

“Why?” Her voice had a sharp edge. “What good would it do either of us?”

If I told her the truth about how different my dreams had become since her arrival, I feared she might think I wanted her to stay for selfish reasons. But perhaps she would find it easier to open her heart if I did the same.

“Our burdens are lighter when we share them,” I said quietly. “I have had nightmares all my life. Many days and nights I have lain awake, haunted by memories. But since you arrived, I have not had any. If you will trust me, I would like to do what I can to ease your hurt as you have eased mine.”

Rather than react with anger or suspicion, her eyes widened in surprise and wonder. “Because I’m your true mate?” she asked, wiping her eyes with her shaking hand.

---