Page 67 of Sheltered in the Storm

That night,for the first time since my arrival at Vos’s home, sleep eluded me.

Exhausted from our outing to the sea, warm from a hot bath, and wrapped in Vos’s arms and tentacles, I fell asleep easily enough, but woke only a few hours later in darkness with my heartbeat thundering in my ears and my stomach churning.

Had a sound woken me? I listened for well over a minute, but heard only the rain and Vos’s steady, deep breathing against the back of my neck. I couldn’t remember if I’d had a dream or nightmare, but my heart raced as if something had frightened me.

I didn’t want to wake Vos because he would worry, so I lay still and quiet with my head resting on one of his tentacles. Another had coiled around my lower right leg. I’d grown so accustomed to that sensation that I barely noticed it anymore—but the moment I did, I felt guarded and needed and content.

How quickly I’d settled into Vos’s tentacles, home, and bed. And hearts.

My love.

Today, in the ocean, he’d called me his love.I want your sweet pussy, my love, he’d said, his eyes glowing and cock rigid in my hand. He’d said it so easily, so simply, that lost in my arousal I’d scarcely given it a thought. Now those two words had ripped me from my sleep and echoed in my mind like a shout in a cavern.

My love.

Terror and nausea rose. I bit my own hand to hold back a choking sound and swallowed hard. Vos stirred, then relaxed again, his breathing deep and even.

How could he love me? He barely knew me.

A true mate, I understood. That was biological, physiological. There wassciencebehind it, even the metaphysical elements. But love—love was make-believe. Love was illusory. Love was a lie and a trap. Wasn’t it?

I thought about the way Vos looked at me, the way he softened when he held me, how he treated me like a treasure and called himselfprivilegedto care for me and fill me. Was that love, or the mate bond? Was there a difference?

Of course there was. True mates were physical. Love came from something else. Science couldn’t measure it, quantify it, examine it under a scanner, or dissect it into component parts.

My love, he’d said without a hesitation of any kind, as if loving me and saying so was the most natural thing in the world.

Vos’s tentacles caressed me as if they sensed or smelled my distress. They probably did. How strange and wonderful to be treasured and cared for by Vos and his tentacles too.

If Vos were awake, he would coo, and all this confusion and fear and anger and doubt would melt away. I would feel safe and secure again, and maybe I could close my eyes and sleep. But he wasn’t awake, and I felt as lost as when I woke in this bed the first time.

I doubted he would mind if I woke him, especially if it meant he could soothe my hurts. But if I didn’t sort through these thoughts and feelings, I’d still be as adrift tomorrow as I was right now.

I had faced squadrons of raider ships and beasts in the arena and more terrors on more planets than I cared to think about, but none of those nightmares scared me as much as Vos’s love.

Why? Because it didn’t make sense. He’d given his hearts and more to a scrap from Ganai.

I closed my eyes to hold back my tears, but they leaked from under my lids.

I hadn’t made a sound, but it didn’t matter. I both heard and felt it when Vos inhaled deeply, and then he drew me closer with his arm around my middle until my back pressed against his chest.

“My Calla,” he said, his voice fully awake though he’d been sound asleep a moment ago. “Do you weep?”

“No.” It came out as a sob.

Ever so gently, his tentacles turned me to face him. His eyes shone in the dark, beautiful and silvery-blue and as gentle as the rest of him, full of worry and care and love.

How had I not seen it before? Maybe I hadn’t wanted to.

“What hurts you, my mate?” His tentacles roamed my body, tasting and scenting my skin, maybe searching for injuries. “Why do you cry?”

How could I tell him that his greatest gift to me caused me pain? The words made little sense in my head, and they’d make even less out loud.

He cupped my face and used his thumbs to wipe away my tears. “Please, Calla. Let me help.”

“Today, in the sea, you called me your love,” I whispered, because if I didn’t speak the words I felt like I’d choke on them instead. “Did you mean it?”

“Of course.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “My Calla, did you not know?”

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