Page 17 of Sheltered in the Storm

VOS

If only foolsclung to faint shreds of hope, then I was a fool.

Even the Vos who had secretly dreamed of having a home and happiness someday if he survived his service to the Guard would have scoffed at the tiny flame in my heart that refused to be extinguished by Calla’s rejection.

Perhaps I should douse that fire with cold resolve. I should accept that no human woman would want to stay with a killer, or live on an isolated moon, and even less want to be the mate of a creature so different and alien from herself. But I could not bring myself to extinguish my little fire of hope. Nothing in my life had warmed me like its tiny flame.

If I had only weeks or months to spend with my mate before she left me forever, then I would make her as well and safe and treasured as I could. Perhaps we could become friends. Share quiet, happy moments. I could pretend that would be enough.

Calla bit her lower lip—a habit I found endearing. I did not think she was aware she did it. “Vos, I…” Her cheeks turned pink. She moved a little and winced. “I’d like to go to the bathroom.”

I started to get up, then remembered I had promised she need not see my body without clothing. “If you will close your eyes, I will rise and dress,” I said.

“You don’t need to get up,” she argued. “I can walk there myself.”

My mate—no,Calla—was a strong, determined human, but will alone would not get her on her feet. “You cannot,” I said gently. “You are not strong enough, and the bones in your legs have only knitted together. I must carry you.”

Anger flashed in her eyes. “I’m not helpless.”

“No, you are not,” I agreed. “But you cannot walk yet, and if you try, you will fall and re-injure yourself. It will delay your recovery time.”

Her obvious frustration and humiliation made my hearts ache. My tentacles caressed her through the blankets, desperate to feel and taste her skin and bring her comfort.

Finally, she set her jaw. “All right. But once I’m in there, you can leave me be until I’m ready to come out.”

“Of course.” There was no reason for me to point out that I had been caring for her needs for many days, as anyone would for their injured mate. She must know that. But now she wished to regain what independence and dignity she could, within her physical limitations.

With a resigned sigh, she closed her eyes.

I moved quickly to the edge of the bed. My tentacles tried to cling to her bedding. I forced them to release the blanket. I could not distinguish between their unhappiness and my own.

Her eyelashes might have moved when I stood, but I must have been mistaken. She had no reason to try to peek at me.

I dressed in my usual home attire: a gray tunic with openings for my tentacles and green pants I cinched with a drawstring. I left my feet bare. She had not flinched at my sharpteeth or tentacles, so my webbed toes were not likely to disturb her.

When I looked back toward the bed, this time I felt certain her eyes had been open until the moment I turned. But if she preferred to pretend she had not stolen glances at me, I would let her pretend.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

She opened her beautiful green eyes. “Yes.”

When I reached for her, though, she flinched.

“I’m sorry,” she said when I tilted my head. “It’s not you or your tentacles. I…” She swallowed. “My stomach and chest really hurt.” She clearly struggled mightily to make that admission.

“To be injured is not to be weak,” I said. “You do not need to convince me of your strength. I have seen your courage from the moment we first laid eyes on each other.”

“You don’t need to flatter me,” she said, with a faint smile that turned into a grimace. “Just go easy when you pick me up.”

She was my heart—or she was meant to be. I would never treat her as anything less.

“I will be gentle,” I assured her. “I cannot promise moving will not hurt, but I will do my best to ease your discomfort as best I can.”

“Thanks.” She braced herself.

As delicately and slowly as possible, my tentacles slid under her little cocoon of blankets. Her every flinch felt like little stabs in all my hearts.

When I lifted her, her ragged gasp made me freeze.

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