Page 9 of Sheltered in the Storm (The Fortusian Mates # 1)

CHAPTER 8

VOS

I had made a wager with myself over how long Calla would wait to actively begin her recovery. I had bet it would take one week.

I lost my own bet by a margin of three days.

On the fourth morning after she first woke in my home, I entered the bedroom after breakfast to find Calla propped up with pillows, gritting her teeth and muttering curses as she lifted heavy cooking pots with each hand as weights.

Despite my resolve to remain as distant as possible, a chill swept over my body. “Calla!” My sharp tone made her jump. “What are you doing?”

She dropped the pots on the bed and glared. Beads of sweat ran down her face. “Practicing low-altitude flight patterns. What does it look like I’m doing?”

Poe must have brought Calla the pots. I had not specifically instructed my companion not to do such things, but I had thought both she and Calla would have better sense than this. Clearly, I had been mistaken .

I stalked to the bed, fully intending to confiscate the pots. “It looks like you are causing yourself pain and risking re-injuring yourself.”

She tightened her grip on the pan handles. “Yes, it hurts a little. Exercising hurts sometimes. I know that as well as you do. I’ve been working out every morning of my life.”

I started to speak, but she cut me off. “Don’t treat me like an infant, Vos. And don’t act like you know my limitations better than I do. I’m not going to overdo it on day one of what’s probably going to be a long process. I’m also not going to just lie here like a Barmian wood slug anymore either, listening to the rain and daydreaming of the beaches on Jakora. Treat me with some respect.”

Stung, I folded my arms across my chest. Even as I kept my expression cold, my tentacles swayed with a combination of worry and their never-ending desire to hold her like the treasure she was.

“I have nothing but respect for you,” I countered. Thankfully, my voice was steady, if not entirely clinical.

“Funny then that the first thing you did when you walked in here was bark at me and assume I can’t tell when I’ve done enough versus when I’ve done too much.” She took a deep breath and flinched. Her abdominal and chest injuries were taking the longest to heal. “I know you see me as injured and weak because that’s all I’ve been since you met me, but I’ve been fighting for my life all my life. I’m tougher than you think. This —” She gestured at her body “—is not who I am.”

“I have never seen you as weak,” I countered. “I recognized your fortitude aboard the raiders’ boat when you bit the Atolani and gave me a chance to kill him and free you.” I let myself look on her with gentler eyes. “Since arriving at my home, you did over-exert yourself a few times, have you not? And felt pain as a result? ”

“Okay, yes.” She let go of the pots and flexed her fingers with a grimace. “But I haven’t done that since that first day, right?”

“That is fair.” I regarded her. “I apologize for ‘barking’ at you, and for assuming unfairly that you would not know your limitations.”

“Apology accepted.” Calla sighed. “Sorry I lashed out. Nobody’s really cared whether I got hurt…well, ever. Except my squadron mates, I guess, though they’d probably egg me on rather than tell me to be cautious.” She slid the pots aside. “Please don’t take them away yet. I can do a bit more once we get done in the bathroom. I’d like to bathe as well, if that’s not too much trouble. A good soak in hot water would really help with all the aches.”

That request caused me concern, as she could not yet stay upright without something or someone propping her up. If she slid down, I was not sure if she could sit up or get her head above the water.

Still, I could not with a good conscience refuse her cleanliness or pain relief. “I will draw a bath and ask Poe to help you,” I said. “To ensure you are safe in the water.”

She tried to hide it, but disappointment flashed in her eyes before she forced a smile. “Thanks.”

Calla liked Poe and had formed a friendship with her—as their whispered conversations would seem to prove—so why would she not want Poe’s assistance?

Puzzled, I started the bath, added minerals and some sprigs of local foliage that made the water smell pleasant, then went in search of my Anomuran companion.

The rain had slowed to a drizzle. I found her outside in the yard, tending to her garden with two eyestalks swiveling at the surrounding forest and one on her plants. “Poe, Calla needs help with her bath.”

“Poe,” she said without looking at me. Her tone and body language seemed dismissive .

Frowning, I tried again. “She is not yet strong enough to be left alone in the bathroom and will need help sitting up while in the bathing tub. I can keep watch on the house.”

She turned to me and waved her pinchers before using one to point at the house. “Poe,” she said firmly, her eyestalks bobbing and waving, which I had long ago learned meant she was disgruntled.

“Are you refusing to help her?” I asked, now thoroughly befuddled. “Did she anger you?”

Her eyestalks dipped, meaning no, but she didn’t budge. “Poe,” she repeated, and pointed again at the door.

“I would prefer not to help her in the bath,” I said in an undertone. I doubted Calla could hear me but I did not want to risk hurting her feelings. I needed to keep my distance from her emotionally, but that did not mean I wanted to be unkind.

“Poe.” This time she sounded frustrated.

“I bathed her when she was unconscious, but the situation is different now,” I said. “She is awake. She is…complicated.”

I did not want to be in the water with Calla. Even being in the same room tested my resolve, which was why I slept and stayed in the living area and spent most of my days and nights outside. Water was my home. Bathing Calla would be intimate. I was not sure I could pretend otherwise. Even if I stayed outside the tub and simply held her upper body above the water’s surface with my tentacles, I feared my determination to remain distant would crumble like poorly made bricks in the Iosan rain.

I did not know how to explain the situation to Poe in a way she would understand. She clearly wished Calla and I to become a mated pair. Calla’s rejection and the reasons for it—much less my own decision to keep her at arm’s length—would be beyond Poe’s comprehension.

Poe barreled into me with enough momentum to make me stagger. “ Poe ,” she said with finality in her tone. She turned back to her garden with a huffing sound .

Left with no choice, and as angry with Poe as I was with myself, I went back inside. I took my time toweling off in the kitchen, though I was likely to be at least partially in the water again momentarily…with Calla. The thought was a dream, and a nightmare.

Was I stalling? I was no coward. I did not stall . With a scowl, I tossed the muddy towel into a bin and strode back into the bedroom.

Calla saw me and set her pan-weights aside. “What’s wrong?”

Gods, she was beautiful.

Everything is wrong , I wanted to say. Everything is wrong but you .

“Poe is busy working on her garden,” I said instead. “Are you content to bathe with my help?”

Her gaze searched my face. A myriad of emotions flashed in her eyes—among them, sadness.

“Not if it bothers you,” she said finally. “I don’t think you want to help with that. I can wait for Poe to get done.”

She had offered me a way out. All I needed to do was agree to wait until Poe came inside. The bathwater would stay hot thanks to the thermal spring beneath the house, and as stubborn as Poe could be, she would give in and help Calla…eventually.

For days, my determination to keep Calla at arm’s length had not wavered. This would be the most significant challenge yet to that resolve.

“It will not bother me,” I said.

Calla’s mouth twisted up at the corner. She knew that was a lie. And she knew I had not made much effort to hide the fact I had lied. Because I could not really lie to her. My hearts would not allow it.

She held out her arms. “Then we’d best get to it. I’m ready to be clean and less achy, and I’m sure you have better things to do than be my bathtub lifeguard. ”

I might, but at this moment I could not think of a single one.

“How is your pain today?” I asked as I scooped her up and carried her sheet-wrapped body to the bathroom.

Her smile made my hearts skip a beat. “I feel better today.”

After her anguished reaction to my confession that I had used my blood to save her life, I had not raised the topic again. If my decision to share blood with her still upset her, I did not see it.

“I am glad.” I sat on the side of the tub with Calla cradled in my tentacles. “I do not know if my blood has continued to heal you or not, since I have never used it to heal someone else.”

“You haven’t?” She blinked up at me. “Then how did you know it would work?”

“I did not know. It simply had to work.” I tested the water’s temperature with my hand. “Is this too hot?”

“Vos.” Calla reached out, as if she intended to put her palm on my chest, then lowered her hand back into her lap. “Thank you for saving my life. I know I was angry when you told me how you managed it, but I need you to believe me when I say I’m grateful.”

“I do believe you.” I let myself rest my hand on her much smaller one. “Do you believe I am sorry that my choice upset you?”

“Yes.” Her smile returned, and it was like the clouds parting. “I don’t know why I feel like I can be so honest with you, or why I seem to believe you when I’ve always assumed anyone who talks to me is lying.”

Before I could ask her why she felt that way, she cleared her throat. “Anyway, bath time.” She touched the water and yanked her hand back. “Ooh, hot.”

I reached for the cold water spigot. “I will cool it.”

“No, no.” She stopped me. “It’s perfect.”

I frowned. “Your reaction indicates the water will not be comfortable for you. ”

“I want to be pink when I get out,” she said, adding to my confusion. “I need a good scalding. Just go with it, Vos. It doesn’t have to make sense.”

I unwrapped her sheet and set it aside. Bruises and lacerations still marked her body almost from head to toe. The more serious internal injuries would take much longer to heal. Despite the medical scanner reporting they were no longer life-threatening, I worried about unexpected complications, especially if she insisted on exercising.

Should I offer to share blood with her again? I had replenished much of what I had given her a week ago. Another treatment might heal her completely, or close to it.

Then again, I had no idea if sharing my blood had side effects. I had already risked it once. If I harmed her, even without intending to, I would never forgive myself.

“Vos,” Calla said, her gaze searching my face. “You’re staring at me.”

“I apologize. I was checking the condition of your injuries. You appear much improved.” With my tentacles, I lowered her very carefully into the water.

She groaned and flinched. “Go on, go on,” she said when I stilled. “It’s way too hot, and it feels so good .”

Perhaps everything would be easier if I ceased trying to make what she said make sense.

The sea was my soul’s true home, but any water cradled and caressed me like a mother—or like I imagined a mother might hold a child. I had no memories of the woman who had given birth to me, pleasant or otherwise.

I settled Calla into the tub, holding her with two tentacles curled under her arms to keep her from sliding beneath the water’s surface. The other two traitorous tentacles tried to haul the rest of me into the tub until I forced them to relinquish their grip on its edge. They slipped into the tub on either side of her and swirled the water sulkily .

My tub was large and deep—one of my few indulgences. I had only filled it halfway, but the water level nearly reached her collarbone.

“Should I drain some water so it is not so deep?” I asked.

She glared at me. “Don’t you dare.”

I kept a stack of washcloths and bars of soap on the window ledge. But before I could offer to help wash her, she leaned back against the side of the tub, her head on one of my tentacles as a pillow, and let out a long sigh. “Thanks, Vos,” she murmured.

A comfortable silence settled over us. I did not want to interrupt it, or disturb Calla by staring at her again, so I turned my attention to the large windows and skylight around the tub. Thanks to the steaming water, condensation obscured our view of the sky and yard and the swamp beyond the wall. The morning drizzle had turned once more to a downpour that ran over the slanted skylight and down the windows.

After nearly five years on Iosa, I scarcely noticed the rain anymore, but whenever Calla was near, I noted everything, as if my mind subconsciously wanted to capture every detail of every moment I spent with her.

As a component of an economical and efficient capsule home designed to withstand Iosa’s weather, my bathroom had originally been much smaller. I had doubled the size of this room using part of an old home that had been damaged in a storm and sold for parts. What the resulting space lacked in aesthetics it more than made up for by allowing me to have this enormous tub and an overhead shower. On days when I could not make the journey to the sea, the tub provided the peace and tranquility I craved of submerging in water.

Calla settled in more comfortably, her hand resting on her abdomen. I had learned that gesture meant she was hurting but did not want to show it.

A coo rose in my throat. Recalling her angry response the last time I had made the sound, I suppressed it. A sharp pain in my chest made me jerk.

She raised her head, her eyes searching my face. “What’s wrong?”

I opened my mouth to tell her it was nothing but a muscle twinge, but I could not bring myself to lie.

“I instinctively make a sound when you are hurt,” I said. “It appears that if I hold it back, it causes discomfort.”

She flinched again—but this time I did not think it was a reaction to her own pain. “Then don’t hold it in. I don’t want you hurting because of me.” Her expression fell. She had probably realized her departure would do exactly that. “I mean…shit.”

“It is all right,” I said, though that was not entirely true. I simply wanted her to relax again.

She smacked the water with her hand, startling me. “No, it’s not all right. Stop saying you’re fine when you aren’t.”

“I might say the same to you,” I said mildly.

Despite her fit of pique, her mouth twitched. “Okay, that’s fair.” She rested her head against my tentacle again. “Let’s make a deal, then. We don’t tell each other we’re okay if we’re not.”

“I accept.” I risked allowing the end of one of my unoccupied tentacles to wrap around her right ankle. When she snuggled against my hold and did not protest, I decided to take another risk. “Will you tell me of your past, Calla? I would very much like to know where you are from and why you chose to be a fighter pilot.” And why she trusted no one, though I did not add that part.

She did not become tense or angry, but she said nothing for a very long time. I stayed quiet and let her think.

“I could tell you it’s a long story, but it really isn’t,” she said finally, her tone as dry as the deserts of Solan. “Really, I can tell it in five words: I was born on Ganai. ”

My breath caught in my chest, and despite the steamy heat in the room, horror turned me cold all the way to my core.