Page 18 of Sheltered in the Storm

“I’m okay,” she rasped, which was clearly untrue. “Go ahead. I can take it. I’ve had worse.”

Rage turned me cold. “When?”

She stilled and looked up at me, pain and memories shining in her eyes. “A long time ago, a long way from here. Basically another lifetime. It’s nothing you need to be concerned about. Idon’t need anyone to slay monsters for me. I grew up and learned to slay my own.”

I was so enraptured by the fierceness of her statement that it took several beats for the implication of her words to sink in.

She had suffered such painas a child?Rather than ease my fury, this only doubled it.

“Vos, I said to let it go. We’re in a hurry.” She jerked her chin at the doorway leading to the washroom. “I don’t want to embarrass myself. This has all been quite embarrassing enough,” she added under her breath.

I did notlet it go, as she had ordered, but I set my anger aside to attend to her more immediate needs.

When we reached the washroom, her face fell. “There’s no mirror.”

I frowned. “You require a mirror to use the facilities and wash yourself?”

She glared at me. I did not like to be on the receiving end of her angry stare, but her fierceness was as beautiful to me as everything else about her.

“I want to see my whole body,” she snapped. “I need to see how bad it is. Surely that makes sense to you.”

Itdidmake sense. I would have made the same demand in her place. “I have a reflective surface in my kitchen,” I said. “It is not as clear as a mirror, but it will suffice.”

“Then take me there, please.”

“Do you need to use these facilities first? I do not wish to move you more than is necessary.”

She sighed. “Okay. Just put me down and I’ll lean against the washbasin until you’re gone.”

I did not believe she could stand well enough to lean, but she clearly did not agree. She would fight her limitations with every breath and action.

So I steeled myself and did something I did not want to do: Istarted to put her on her feet, knowing how much pain it would cause her. The moment her feet touched the ground and took some of her weight, she crumpled in my tentacles with a ragged cry.

Gently, I picked her up once more. “Will you trust me to tell you what you can and cannot do, at least for now?”

“I don’t trust anyone,” she said bitterly. “But maybe you weren’t lying when you said I couldn’t stand up.”

I wanted to hear why she mistrusted everyone and who had hurt her—and better yet, find those who had mistreated her and show them their own innards before they died—but she needed my immediate help, not promises of retribution.

She allowed me to unwrap her blankets and place her so she could relieve herself, and she obviously hated every moment of the process. To give her what privacy I could, I retreated to the bedroom and closed the door behind me.

A long time passed. I realized I was pacing and sat on the bed.

“Are you well?” I called when the silence had stretched into minutes with no sounds from the bathroom.

“I’m fine,” she said, very quietly. Then she laughed. The sound had no humor in it, and its harshness made my tentacles quiver in distress.

“No, I’m not fine,” she rasped. “Of course I’m not fine. I’m a gods-damnmess. I look like I got chewed up by a Hardanian war-pig and then spat out into a food waste processing unit. And that’s just mylegs.” She coughed, but it sounded like she’d done so to try to cover another sob. “You’d better show me the rest of me. I might as well take all the punches at once.”

She was capable of slaying her own monsters—or shewouldbe, weeks or months from now, when she fully recovered—but I would have taken every last punch for her if I could, and if she would have let me.

When I opened the bathroom door, the pain, anger, grief,and frustration in her eyes when her gaze met mine was a formidable punch to my gut in itself.

As I watched, all that faded, replaced by grim determination. “Okay.” With a pained sound, she reached for me with both hands. Her arms trembled. “I’m ready.”

PerhapsIwas not ready for her to see the extent of her remaining injuries, but I must be as courageous as my mate. “Do you want me to wrap you in blankets?”

She gave me a strained smile. “Not much point being prudish or modest anymore, is there?”

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