Page 75 of Sheltered in the Storm

“No, it’s not.” Gasping, gagging, staggering, I got to my feet. “Give me a chance. Tell your people to let him come here. You deserve to hear the truth, and Vos deserves to know why this happened.”

“He smells your blood,” N’Mora countered. “He will go through you to kill me. The beasts of Fortusia, they do not know reason when their rage is too great.”

“Don’t call him a beast,” I snapped. “He’s hurt and he’s angry, but he’s a man, not a beast. I’m his true mate.He will listen to me.”

N’Mora made that grinding sound again. “He has taken a true mate?”

“Yes!”

From outside the bunkhouse, I heard a bellow nearby, and the sound of something like the smashing of a wall, followed by a much louder crash. The ground trembled. Probably the other building that had survived the raiders’ departure collapsing. Another bellow, this one only what sounded like meters away from the door to the bunkhouse.

I hobbled forward as far as the chain around my ankle would allow and reached for N’Mora’s clawed hand. “Get behind me, N’Mora!”

With a chittering sound, N’Mora did as I asked, leaving me facing the door?—

—Just as it, and the wall around it, exploded toward us.

CHAPTER 26

VOS

My Calla’scaptors had left many false trails, but finally I found the one that led me to the raider camp—or what remained of it.

My rage had claws and teeth, and my thoughts were jagged.

I smashed through the door of the raiders’ hut and stood on the threshold, my tentacles ripping at the walls and my fists clenched. But it was not a group of raiders who greeted me.

Instead, I saw my mate, naked and covered in blood, pale, on her feet but her eyes unfocused, as though she might collapse at any moment. A chain bound her right ankle—the ankle my tentacles habitually cradled for their comfort and hers. A bolt-shaped J’Noran incendiary device was buried deep into my Calla’s shoulder, as if plunged through her flesh and bones with brute force.

An enormous Kurutan stood behind my mate, using her as a shield against my wrath.

My Calla.My Calla, bloody and badly wounded and possiblydying, with abombinside her. My fury seared me and wrenched a low growl from deep in my chest.

My tentacles flared around me, their tips facing my mate’s tormentor with claws extended. They could not penetrate the Kurutan's carapace, but they had other vulnerable places on their body.

“Coward,” I snarled. “Spineless coward, face me.”

To my surprise, it was Calla who spoke.

“Vos.” Her voice was strained and shaking. She reached for me with her bloodstained hand. The smell of her blood suffocated me. “Vos, take my hand,” she said, and now she sounded as though she might weep. “Take my hand, my love.”

My Calla did not call me her love. What kind of trap was this?

I snarled at the Kurutan. “Step out from behind my mate, scum who bloodies unarmed women and uses the weapons of a coward.”

The Kurutan made a grating sound.

“Vos,” Calla repeated. She stretched out her hand as far as she could, held back by that gods-damned wicked chain, and whimpered in pain. Her fingers trembled so badly that despite my rage, a coo rose in my chest. “Vos, listen to me. This is N’Mora, the child of Ambassador N’Vors.”

My body went cold.

The child I had carried out of danger in my tentacles had come to Iosa and taken my Calla. They had brutally plunged a bomb into my Calla. Had used my Calla to bring me here, likely to witness her death. I had saved this Kurutan, and in return they intended to take from me the only good thing I had ever had.

I hissed at N’Mora through my teeth, envisioning tearing each limb from their body and forcing them to eat the pieces so they tasted their own flesh.

“I told you he would not listen,” N’Mora said in Alliance Standard. “He is a beast, Calla Wren.”

“Stop it. He is not a beast. He’s listening.” Calla swayed on her feet. “Vos, N’Mora thinks you killed their parent. I told them the truth, but they don’t believe me. Please tell them what happened on Bordia the day N’Vors died. Tell them what you did and why.”

---