Page 9 of Sheltered in the Storm

My tentacles found a damaged section of the boat and ripped the rusted metal apart. The boat, along with the bloody pieces of the raiders’ bodies, disappeared into the inky depths. The creatures of the deep would consume the body parts quickly, leaving no trace of what I had done. As for the tornremains of the boat, the sea contained many large and dangerous predators. They rarely ventured this close to shore, but they would be the likely suspects, not I.

Trembling with fatigue and happiness in equal measures, my tentacles encircled my mate, drinking in her taste and scent through every sensory cell. Her intoxicating, rich, and unique perfume had drawn me to her from the moment I had first caught its traces in the cockpit of her fighter. Its soft notes reminded me of desserts I had enjoyed years ago on faraway planets, but she was no mere sweet. Her scent, her body, her voice, her ferocity when she bit the Atolani and enabled me to get her away from him—everything about her was a wonder.

My desire to take her to the safety of my homestead was nearly all-consuming, but I stole a few rain-soaked moments to float on the ocean’s surface, reveling in the feeling of my mate in my arms.

Even unconscious, she flinched in obvious discomfort. Purely on instinct, I let out that strange coo again. She relaxed against me with a sigh.

I had never made that sound before in all my years, and I had made it without conscious thought. I could comfort her and ease her pain and fear with my own voice. She must be my mate. No other explanation made sense.

Gently, I brushed her wet hair from her face so I could see her better. Even pale, battered, and bloody, she was truly lovely, with full lips, striking features, and enticingly thick lashes. Her long red hair was braided, but many strands had escaped and hung loose.

Her uniform, far more utilitarian than flattering, covered a soft but unmistakably strong body that stirred longing in my heart and sent blood rushing to my cock. I set those desires aside for now.

Lightning illuminated a bloodstained badge on her uniformabove her left breast. I read her name, sounding out the strange syllables in Alliance Standard.

“Lieutenant Calla Wren.” I repeated her first name more loudly because I liked how the sound of it felt on my tongue. “Calla, my mate.”

She moaned. Her eyelashes fluttered, revealing pain-filled green eyes that met mine for a heartsbeat before her lids closed once more and she lapsed back into unconsciousness.

My mate. In my arms. My mind reeled with the enormity of it.

My makers had told me in no uncertain terms that those created to serve in the Guard had been genetically engineered to eliminate the innate desire for a mate. Why would I have studied the details of the most wondrous aspect of being Fortusian, when my makers had made me incapable of it? Doing so would only have poured salt on the wound.

As such, I knew only the basics of Fortusian true mate physiology. My body had recognized a partner with whom I would not only be biologically compatible, but whose very being—mind, heart, and soul—complimented and resonated with my own in every way. None of these concepts had meant much to me before tonight, beyond the bitter knowledge that I would never have such joy.

Whether by error or design, after a lifetime of mourning for what my makers had denied me, Ididpossess the ability to know and treasure a true mate. To say my world had tilted on its axis would be an understatement to the extreme.

Even so, my many years of Silent Guard training and conditioning held powerful sway over my actions and instincts. They warred with my new, deeper need to heal and keep her.

My tentacles, though, were not undecided. They knew only the desire to protect. They tasted her sweet skin and fiery human blood and cared nothing for what the Guard would have instructed me to do—hadindoctrinatedme to do. Eliminate thethreat. Conceal the evidence of the fighter’s crash. Leave the pilot to her fate. Survive to kill another day.

As ifsurvivingwere enough.

A long time before I had completed my requisite twenty years of service to the Guard, I had wanted more than mere survival. I wanted tolive, even if I spent my days in hiding far from the Guard’s headquarters on a sparsely populated moon of a planet on the very edge of Alliance space. And by all the gods above and below, I had tried to live, but memories invaded my waking thoughts and twisted my dreams.

I had passed each day of my retirement with little thought to what my future might hold. Until this moment, I had never considered what it might mean to want to live for another.

Calla moaned softly. I drew her closer, offering the warmth and comfort of my body heat. As if by instinct, she rested her head on my chest over my primary heart. Did that simple gesture signify something? I did not know.

Her breath gurgled in her chest. The sound filled me with fear and sharpened my focus. I must take her home quickly and tend to her injuries.

I had no map for what would come next, nor any idea how Calla would react to me when she woke with a clearer mind. She had seen me kill the raiders but did not know why. Her horror at my actions was obvious. She did not know the truth of who I was, or that my existence, like my hearts, now belonged to her.

She did not even know my name.

For now, I could do only what I believed was right: keep her alive. Tend to her injuries. Stay at her side for whatever time we had together and hope she saw something in me I did not see in myself.

Leaving the other raiders to plunder the fighter, at least for now, I turned and swam for home.

I had never beenone to curse or praise gods, much less plead with them, but I murmured prayers for much of my long swim back to what I had come to think of as my inlet. Calla’s breathing had become far more labored. Fresh blood ran from her mouth and trickled from her nose. I held her as gently as possible during the journey, but her injuries were severe. She might die in my arms before I could get her home.

The dread in my belly gnawed at my insides and filled me with fear.

Normally, I swam underwater using my human arms and legs together with my tentacles, or just my tentacles. But in deference to my Calla’s inability to breathe underwater, I had to swim against the current at the surface, holding her body in my tentacles to keep her head out of the water, leaving my arms and legs to do nearly all the hard work. The going was slow, and as strong as I was, my muscles ached terribly.

Had I not floated so far, my return would not have been nearly so long or exhausting. But also, had I not traveled such a distance, I might not have seen or heard the fighter’s crash. My mate would now be in the raiders’ cruel hands, and I would not have known of her existence—much less hold her.

The last hundred meters of the swim dragged on interminably. On another night, I would not have minded my tiredness. The exhaustion from a long swim and treacherous walk to my homestead would likely have gifted me a rare night of deep, dreamless sleep.

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