“Not a chance!” he growls. “Just do it—and fast.”
“You do not get to growl at my wife,” Pherebos snaps.
“I'm not growling at her!” Prax bites back through gritted teeth.
“What about my sister then?” Kiran pipes up, wobbling over.
“Human, as you can see, now is not the time to mess with me!”
“It’s a plasma blade,” Ileana continues, ignoring the testosterone flare-up. “Place it on the stump and hold for five seconds each time. Repeat until the whole surface is sealed.”
I nod and take a deep breath to steady my nerves.
The blade glows white-hot as I move it toward the raw, red stump. I hesitate.
“Do it, Purrsong,” my brave companion urges.
So I do. Once. Twice. As many times as it takes. The sound sizzles in my ears. The smell—burned flesh and singed fur—makes my stomach churn. I’m barely holding back nausea, hurting the man I love like this. My only comfort is knowing it’s temporary. If I understood right, the Confederation has plenty of tools they’ve conveniently kept from us.
When I’m done, my Sadjim cups my face with his one good hand and brushes his thumb gently across my lips.
“Thank you. You did what had to be done,” he murmurs, reassuring me.
“Oh, cat’s fine, wasn’t that bad,” Kiran jokes, trying to break the tension.
Prax lets go of my face and flicks him on the back of the head in response.
I roll my eyes and finally let out a long breath. My brother’s okay. My man is alive.
29-Prax
~Three days later ~
I open my eyes, feeling refreshed and completely rested. The greenish dome of the regeneration pod hovering just above my nose reminds me where I am—and why I’m here. Supposedly, I’ve got my arm back. Instinctively, I wiggle my fingers, needing to make sure they’re really there.
I try to sit up, and the pod lid opens with a soft hiss.
As I sit upright, my eyes lock with Neela’s anxious gaze. She’s seated beside me, her stare immediately zeroing in on my freshly rebuilt arm. I follow her gaze, watching my own hand and trailing up to my shoulder.
Relief washes over me. I’m whole again. My arm is intact! Sure, I’ve read up on these regeneration pods—knew all their fancy specs and capabilities—but I’d never had the chance to test one out myself. Which, frankly, was just fine with me. Losing an arm is a serious trauma.
Neela hands me a pair of pants so I can preserve what little modesty I have left. Then she picks up a sleek scanner and begins checking my vitals. But I stop her with one hand.
“Come here,” I say, pulling her close.
I seize her lips without hesitation, finally able to wrap both arms around her and hold her tight. She kisses me back with exhilarating intensity. And very quickly, my pants feel way too tight. My brain starts calculating escape routes—where could wego to let off a little steam? Only problem: we’re aboard Admiral Akifumi’s ship, just passing through for this whole unfortunate arm business. I seriously doubt anyone’s going to lend me a room for a few hours of steamy recovery therapy with my beautiful Human.
“Hey, Furball—who said you could stick your tongue down my twelve-year-old sister’s throat?”
I let out a long, suffering sigh. Well, there goes the sensual interlude I had in mind.
“Ah, my favorite Human tormentor!” I grin. “As you can see, I was simply verifying whether my brand-new hand is functioning properly. You’ll note that it’s caressing my partner’s lovely shoulders just as skillfully as before. Next, I’ll need to confirm that my fingers haven’t lost their dexterity.”
My dear brother-in-law shoots me a death glare when he realizes exactly what I’m implying, while my sweet Neela wriggles out of my arms and gives us both the look.
“Seriously? You two again? You're impossible, you know that?”
“My love,” I say with the utmost innocence, “I am freshly recovered from a traumatic amputation. And your beloved Kiran came all the way here just to harass me.”
