Page 7 of Sheltered in the Storm (The Fortusian Mates # 1)

CHAPTER 6

VOS

If only fools clung 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 pi nk. 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 sharp teeth 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.

“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. I don’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 pain as 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 not let 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.”

It did make 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: I started 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-damn mess . 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 my legs .” 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 she would be, 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.”

Perhaps I was 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?”

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?

“The raiders do not cross the swamp,” I said, since she likely would think them the biggest threat. “I have nothing worth stealing, so they do not bother me.”

“If they figure out you killed a bunch of them, including that Atolani who might have been their leader, they might make an exception,” she said, her expression and tone grim. “I hope you had time to cover your tracks.”

“I did.” I hesitated, then added, “I also ensured what remained of your fighter was destroyed and its debris sank to the ocean floor so it could not be plundered by the raiders.”

“My poor ship.” She took another shaky breath. “I understand it had to be done. But how did you manage it?”

I explained that I had returned to the site while she had slept and used one of the raiders’ own sea mines to destroy the fighter.

This news seemed to trouble her, for reasons that became clear a moment later. “I thought you were with me the whole time.” She said it so quietly that I thought she might be talking to herself.

“Poe guarded you while I was gone,” I said. “I did not wish to leave your side, but you were stabilized, and I believed you would not want the raiders to profit by your accident.”

“Well, you’re right about that.” She rested her head on my shoulder once more. “I hope the raiders leave us alone, then. Is there anyone else who might come around?”

I shook my head. “I live many kilometers from the closest village. No one wanders here. The swamps and marshes contain enough dangers to make crossing them inadvisable. If a villager wishes to reach a safe beach, there are closer places to go.”

Calla flicked her gaze up at me. She opened her mouth, closed it, and said something else. “Tell me about these swamp dangers, then.”

I wondered what she had started to ask before reconsidering, but did not press her about it. “The largest predators are reptilian and amphibious, as you might expect from a moon that is mostly water and experiences a long rainy season. The most common danger is the kaory. They are large and scaled, with a venomous bite and barbed tail. They are also quite fast.”

She made a face. “Lovely. What else?”

I told her about other dangerous creatures and how best to avoid them. She seemed to take the information in stride, as I might have expected from a fighter pilot who had been stationed on several worlds with dangerous native species.

But the moment I began to describe the kinds of venomous and constrictor serpents of the swamp and marshlands, her scent changed dramatically, and her fingers slipped into my hand .

I broke off mid-sentence and looked at her hand where it rested, so small, bruised, and seemingly fragile in my own much-larger one.

Much to my disappointment, she pulled her hand away the moment she realized what she had done. “Sorry to get squeamish,” she said. “I promise I’m not a coward.”

As if I would ever have thought so.

“I really don’t like snakes and serpents,” she continued. “I got bitten by a deno’lia on Fortusia and damn near died. Ever since, I just can’t stand anything that slithers. Not your tentacles, though,” she added quickly. “They’re fine. Quite comfortable, actually. Anyway…” She cleared her throat. “I need to know what’s out there, I guess, so keep going.”

“You may hold my hand if you need to,” I said, trying not to show how much I wished she would do exactly that. “I am no more a fan of serpents than you, though I have chosen to share their habitat.”

Calla’s eyes narrowed. “Is that your way of saying you’re kind of afraid of snakes too?”

It was my turn to clear my throat. “I do not fear them. I simply take great pains to avoid seeing or encountering them.”

For the first time, her lips turned up in a real smile. My hearts seemed to stutter in my chest.

“Oh,” she said, her tone light and mocking. “Well, that’s totally different, then.” She settled into my tentacles’ embrace with a wince. “Go on about the local serpents, then, Vos the Fearless.”

Coming from anyone else, such a flippant remark would have enraged me, but nothing could take away from the fact I wanted that smile and her casual nickname for me to be the centers of my existence.

Minutes later, as I described the hunting habits of the area’s largest and most deadly constrictor, her breathing pattern changed, becoming slow and deep. I let my voice trail off .

Careful not to touch any of her cuts or bruises, I brushed stray hair back from her face. My mate let out a soft sigh, her body warm, still, and fast asleep in my embrace. Heavy rain fell on the roof and ran in sheets down the windows, but inside we were warm and dry.

I rested my chin ever so gently on the top of her head and lost myself in her scent.

Save for her injuries and the knowledge she did not intend to stay with me, this was the most perfect moment of my life. If I could have frozen time, I would have done so without a second thought and lived in this moment for eternity.

I drifted in quiet happiness for a long time, until my own restless thoughts shattered my peace.

Surely the universe would not send me a true mate, only for her to leave again. Not even the most capricious gods would wish me such pain—not after all I had already suffered.

Perhaps somehow sensing my disquiet, Calla murmured in her sleep. I cooed until she relaxed and went quiet again. But the magic of the moment was lost.

What had I ever done to warrant the gods’ kindness? I was a killer. A monster. I had more blood on my hands and tentacles than Calla could have dreamed.

A chill swept over me.

Perhaps I had earned this punishment. Perhaps with every beat of my hearts and every ember of that tiny flame of hope, I added to my own suffering. Fire provided light and warmth, but fire also burned. Fire destroyed and turned living things to ash.

How could I be so careless and complicit in my own suffering as to want Calla, to the point I was ready to make her my universe, when every moment I spent with my arms around her did nothing but add pain on top of pain because she planned to leave as soon as she was able?

She had described her injuries as feeling like broken glass. I understood that feeling now, because that was how my gut felt looking at her face—at her long lashes, soft cheeks, and lips I wanted to kiss. That mouth would tell me goodbye as soon as her body had healed enough to walk to the regional capital and its interplanetary communications relay.

To stay or not was her choice; whether to be hurt by her departure was mine. I had suffered enough in this lifetime. I did not need more pain.

Carefully, I rose and carried Calla to the bedroom. I placed her on the bed, then wrapped her in blankets and rolled up several more to secure her in place.

Still asleep, she murmured and extended her hand as if reaching for me.

I thought you were with me the whole time , she had said when I had admitted I left her just long enough to sink her fighter. She had sounded sad, as if the thought I had left her side bothered her.

Was it possible she felt something for me, despite her determination to return to her squadron? Did she feel the call of a true mate, though she was human?

No, of course not. She simply did not want to be left alone when she could not protect herself.

I tucked her hand and arm under the covers.

Then I turned and walked out of the bedroom, out of the house, and into the rain.