Page 36 of Sheltered in the Storm

“So you do not regret sharing this story with me?” His gaze searched my face. “Or that I shared mine with you?”

I’d expected to feel more vulnerable now that he knew one of my most closely guarded secrets, but I didn’t. He’d listened to every word—reallylistenedand not just heard. I’d never felt like he’d judged me for my thoughts or actions. Empathy without pity was wonderfully comforting.

Was this kindness and comfort a result of him believing I was his true mate, or was this simply who Vos was? Was there a difference?

No, wait—he’d taken Poe in without a hesitation, healed herinjury, and treasured her as a companion and friend. That had nothing at all to do with true mate physiology and everything to do with kindness and empathy.

“Calla?” Vos prompted, jolting me out of my thoughts.

“No, I don’t regret this conversation,” I assured him. “As much as it hurt, I’m grateful for it.”

“I am grateful too, and humbled by your trust in me.” He frowned. “Does your stomach hurt?”

I’d wrapped both arms across my abdomen without realizing it. “It aches all the time,” I admitted. “It’s worse than usual right now because I’ve been sitting up for a while. But I want to stay out here instead of going back to bed.”

He rearranged the pillows on the sofa so he could recline and then moved me very carefully so I was lying against his chest. The discomfort in my stomach began to ease.

“Thank you,” I said with a sigh. “That’s lovely. But don’t let me keep you from doing things you need to take care of.”

“Nothing needs my immediate attention but you,” he promised, his lips against my forehead. “We can rest…my Calla.”

He said it tentatively, though I’d told him I didn’t mind being called his Calla. No fear rose when he said it, and I didn’t resent it like I’d thought I would. But why?

Maybe because I’d begun to accept that behind the possessivemywas a man who believed deeply in the importance of having choices. His tentacle around my ankle was gentle and never tight. He held me, but he would let me go if I asked.

Maybe no one valued body autonomy and choice like those who’d had neither for a very long time, and would never take those privileges for granted as long as they lived.

“May I have a kiss?” I asked.

Vos’s breathing hitched. “Yes. Thank you for asking, but from now on, you do not need to ask.” He drew me higher on his chest, bent his head, and kissed me.

This kiss was a little less gentle and a little hungrier than thefirst, but no less sweet. And the kiss lingered for several long moments before he raised his head.

“I love your eyes,” I murmured, my fingertips brushing his lower lip. “They’re like starlight.”

“And to me, you are the sun.” He settled me back in his arms and tentacles and tucked my head under his chin. “Rest now, my Calla.” Softly, he cooed.

All my aches faded away, and I slept.

CHAPTER 12

VOS

The next weekpassed in a comforting routine.

My Calla began her days with breakfast and light exercise, then rested. She still could not stand without me taking most of her weight, and the pain in her legs and abdomen remained of great concern to me, but her appetite improved significantly and her pallor gave way to a much healthier color.

Perhaps best of all, she smiled frequently—at me, at the food I prepared for her, at Poe, and most especially upon waking to find I had moved a half-dozen potted plants into our bedroom, including a vinefruit sapling that would begin bearing fruit within a year.

I buried my worry that she might not still be here to see the fruit and focused on my happiness at the way her eyes lit up when she saw the little tree. She had indeed been starved for the comfort of growing things. What a wonder Iosa would be to her once the rainy season ended and the sun and rich soil turned my walled yard into a lush garden full of vegetables, fruits, and flowers.

Most of all I wanted to take her to my beloved ocean, but I could not risk it until she could not only walk but protect herself from predators during the journey and in the water. I expected to pine for the sea intensely in the meantime, but it seemed my body had forgotten its yearning if I could not bring Calla with me. I missed the ocean, but with my Calla near, I did not ache for its depths.

That she had given me permission to call hermy Callafilled me with joy and deep contentment beyond words, despite twinges of unease that came with thoughts of Calla deciding to leave Iosa. Whenever I had such thoughts, rather than dwell on them, I busied myself around my home, transforming it as best I could from a stark and utilitarian space to a place of comfort and pleasant sights and smells. I could not make the choice for her, but I could do whatever was in my power to persuade her to stay.

Every morning when Calla opened her eyes, yawned, stretched gingerly, and smiled at me, it chipped away at my fears.

And each time she asked me to help her bathe, or kissed me, or requested to sit on the sofa to watch me cook, the song in my hearts grew.

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