Page 19 of Sheltered in the Storm

Even so, I gathered up one of the blankets to make a kind of nest in my tentacles, then I picked her up as if she were the most delicate Fylorian crystal. She flinched initially, then sighed with what I hoped was relief as I tucked the blanket around her.

I carried her to the kitchen, where the metal side of my chilled food storage unit offered a reflective surface.

Calla looked straight at the metal and studied herself for a long time.

It had pained me to do so, as her hair was so lovely and long, but I had shorn a few areas of her scalp to treat deep lacerations. Her face had also suffered deep cuts and bruises and remained swollen, especially her right eye and jaw. More half-healed wounds covered her torso, arms, and legs. Areas of dark discoloration showed where her internal injuries had been most serious and would have been ultimately fatal if not for the restorative and healing properties of my blood.

I saw all her injuries, and they made my hearts ache, but I also saw her without them, healed and healthy. She was full of fire, my beautiful, fierce Calla.

She had said quite clearly she was not mine, but my hearts, soul, and body clung to the belief even if my brain insisted otherwise. I had no right to claim her unless she claimed me as well.

And yet my flame of hope endured.

“Okay,” she said, though again her words did not match her expression.

“Do you want to see your back?” I inquired.

She took a deep, shaky breath that must have hurt. “Is it as bad as my front?”

“Not as bad,” I assured her. “Your pilot’s seat helped protect you. There are cuts and scrapes and bruises, but I suspect they occurred as a result of the raiders’ mistreatment rather than the crash. Does your back pain you?”

“Everything pains me, Vos. I’m one big blob of pain.” She rested her head against my shoulder. She was probably just tired, but that simple act warmed my hearts. “The only time I can tell one pain from another is when I move and it feels like my guts are full of broken glass.”

I longed to return to the bedroom, curl around her, and press my lips to her hair. Instead I asked, “Would you like to lie down again?”

“Not yet. My body feels like I’ve done nothing but lie down for days—which is exactly what I’ve been doing, I suppose.” She bit her lip. “Do you think I can sit on the sofa?”

“I am not sure.” I considered. “We can try, if you wish.”

“I do wish.” She shivered. “Thank you.”

I went first to the fireplace to open the valve that controlled the intensity of the flames, then brought her to the sofa.

As soon as I started to set her down, she winced and her grip tightened on my arm. “I take it back. Can you sit and hold me?”

I could not think of anything else I would rather do. “Of course.”

I settled on the sofa and arranged her as comfortably as I could, wrapping her blanket around her to cover her body and ensure she stayed warm while the fire heated the room.

Her pallor made my stomach churn with worry. “Which injuries pain you most?” I asked.

“I know you’re trying to help, but honestly…” She sighed. “Can we talk about something else besides how injured I am?”

I tilted my head. “What do you want to talk about?”

Calla gestured in the direction of Poe’s nest. “Does something live in that, or is that yours?”

I grimaced at the thought of sleeping in that pile of branches and moss.

“The nest belongs to Poe,” I explained. At her raised eyebrows, I added, “She is an Anomuran. They are large, shelled beings indigenous to this moon.”

She smiled. “You have a pet?”

I shook my head. “Not a pet—a companion and friend. Poe is intelligent and kind, and she can communicate to a limited degree. She is also quite a fierce protector. She is outside guarding our home.”

Her smile faded. “What does she need to guard it from? What’s lurking out there?”

Her next question remained unspoken, but I saw it in her expression:What might attack us while I am unable to defend myself?

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