Page 69 of Sheltered in the Storm

I didn’t have to admit it; he saw my answer in my expression, and in the way my tears spilled over again.

He tucked my head under his chin. “I know what I see when I look into your eyes,” he murmured into my hair. “The word itself matters far less than that.”

How did I look at him? What did he read in my eyes that revealed more to him than I saw in my own heart?

“You’d love me even if I didn’t love you back?” I asked.

“My love for you has no conditions.” He settled in, forming a nest for me with his tentacles as he’d done in our first days together, and cupped the back of my head with his hand. “My Calla, there is no need to search for reasons that I might not love you. There are none to find.”

We lay together for a long time after that, awake but quiet. What he thought about, I didn’t know, but my own thoughts were full of his story and the question of love—what it was, what it wasn’t, and what a force it might be, even when we weren’t aware of it.

I wanted him to rest, because both of us didn’t need to be tired tomorrow, but he wouldn’t sleep until I did. I had learned that early on. Even so, I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t even close my eyes…

…Until he began to sing.

It started as soft murmurs that turned into a melody I recognized. The Fortusian lullaby. The song he’d hummed for me during our first bath, the one that let me know I was safe and cared for and that I would live. He’d hummed it for me after we discovered he could heal me with more than just his blood and I’d questioned how such a miracle was possible. But now there were words as well as melody. His voice was wonderfully deep and sonorous.

I’d relied on translators while stationed on Fortusia and never learned Vos’s language, so I understood only a few of the words of the song, but recognized enough to know it was about water and going home.

I thought about the way Vos had carried me into the ocean today: reverently, worshipfully…lovingly. His arms around me in the deep, holding me close, bringing me up to air and then giving me all of himself only when I’d asked him to. Only after his gentle coo had made it not only not painful, but pure pleasure to take him.

Yes, that was the physiology of being true mates, but it was certainly love too. But what did I have to give him in return?

Maybe something I was afraid to give, or maybe something I was afraid I’d be giving up.

Finally, Vos’s loving lullaby and comforting heartbeats carried me away into sleep.

CHAPTER 24

VOS

Days passed,and then weeks, and my Calla bloomed like the plants in Poe’s garden that opened their petals to celebrate the end of the rainy season and the arrival of sunshine. Paradise had come to our corner of Iosa.

And no matter how many times I woke at dawn to see my mate sleeping peacefully in our bed, or watched her sitting or working in the garden, or took her swimming in the sea, or felt her coming in my arms, each was more wondrous than the last.

Since the day of our first knotted coupling, the matter of love remained unspoken between us, but my Calla’s love was as real and bright and warm as the sun that drenched us from morning to night. And mine grew with her every laugh, footstep, curse, flashing blade, teardrop, and cry of my name.

Even Poe trilled throughout the day, whether tending her own garden, resting in her nest, or guarding the wall. I had not known her to sing more than a handful of times in the three years she had lived with me. Our shared happiness was a paradise of its own.

“Vos.”

Calla’s exasperated voice startled me from my reverie. She was standing in front of my chair, hands on hips, with dirt on her face and mud on her knees. She wore a summery dress today, one of the items of clothing I had purchased during last week’s trip to a nearby village for supplies. Her feet were bare because the day was sunny and warm.

“I am sorry,” I said, marveling at the way her hair shimmered in the sunlight. “What did you ask?”

“I asked what you wanted to plant on the far end of the vegetable garden.” She sighed. “Have I been talking to myself for the last ten minutes?”

I winced. “Perhaps.”

She scowled.

With a chuckle, I gathered her in my tentacles and placed her sideways on my lap. She leaned her head against my shoulder and let out a long, much more contented sigh. “Thanks. I’m worn out and my back hurts.” After a beat, she added, “I’m still mad at you, though. I wastalkingto you.”

“I am sorry,” I said again, my lips on her hair. She smelled of fresh-tilled earth, sunshine, and sweat. “May I make it up to you by taking you to the sea today?”

Calla scoffed. “Vos, I see right through you. We both know why you love going with me to the ocean.”

“Do you not want to go?” I asked, feigning hurt.

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