When I step into my unit, I’m stunned to find my brother and my guest in the middle of a scuffle. Or more accurately, it lookslike Kiran is fuming and throwing punches that Prax calmly blocks, his face completely unreadable.
“Hey, kids!” I call out. “Did you have a nice day?”
Both of them freeze on the spot, Kiran’s fist hovering inches from Prax’s snout. They exchange guilty glances and immediately get to their feet.
“How are you, shrimp? And how’s the Palace?”
“As we agreed yesterday, I didn’t go. We pushed our plan back by two weeks. This flu outbreak has me buried in work—I can’t ignore my actual patients just to fake a few new ones for the sake of an investigation. It'll have to wait. Lucky for you, it’s Friday evening, so now you can finally spend some time with your family instead of showing up here all the time to make sure Prax isn’t stealing my lenses!”
Kiran shoots me a crooked smile under Prax’s smug feline gaze.
“Alright, I’ll head out then. My family’s waiting.”
“Say hi to Meghan and tell her I miss her. Thanks to you, I haven’t seen my sister-in-law or my adorable nephew in days!”
“Deal—we’ll swing by tomorrow to say hi,” he replies with a wink. Then, turning to Prax, “AndKitty, don’t forget what we talked about. I’m dead serious.”
“Crystal clear, Human. I believe I already told you where you could shove your previous suggestions.”
Kiran leaves with a scowl carved across his face.
I turn to Prax with a silent question in my eyes. He just shrugs innocently. No point pushing—he’ll only tell me what he wants to tell me. For now, I’m too drained to argue. I decide to take a quick shower, even if it means enduring my roommate’s teasing. I’ve got years of habits to overcome—it’s not easy. Besides, I still wonder: what do you evendoin a shower for fifteen whole minutes?
When I join Prax in the main room, he’s watching a documentary on Earth’s big cats, completely absorbed.
“Does your planet look like that?” I ask.
“Yes and no. It has vast open plains too, but the ground on Sadjim is darker—almost black. And unlike what the documentary says, our climate can swing from blistering heat to freezing cold.”
“Do you miss your world?”
“Some parts of it. Like the open plains where I could run full speed, feel the wind in my fur, dig my feet into the black sand, chase a little rodent hiding in its den… I miss my mother, too.”
“Was it just the two of you?”
“She was the only one who didn’t expect anything from me. The others—my father, uncle, cousins—I left them behind when I was banished. My little brother was frail from birth. When he proved unable to hunt on his own, my father demanded I end his life. Because Grux was considered physically weak, and I was branded emotionally weak for refusing to carry out the order. That’s when I met Bully. I’d just won a two-seater ship in a shady backroom game. He offered me a way out, and I gave him a seat. I left Sadjim without looking back.”
My heart aches at the story of his ruthless homeland and what he had to endure. I’m proud he had the strength to turn his back on that bloodthirsty culture and become the Confed member standing before me.
“And your brother? What happened to him?”
“Grux was killed by one of our cousins. They said it was a merciful act.”
“That’s… that’s bullshit!” I can’t help blurting out, even as a few tears spill down my cheeks.
“Don’t cry, Purrsong. It was a long time ago. And honestly, I think Grux was better off leaving that life than enduring thecruelty he faced every day. He really wasn’t built for Sadjim. And as for me—I was right to leave that world behind for good.”
Prax steps closer and gently wipes away the tears with his velvet fingertips. I look up into those sclera-less eyes of his. His golden gaze locks onto mine, probing, analyzing. Slowly, the sorrow I feel morphs into something else. Something deeper. More personal.
Slowly, he raises his hand and cups my cheek, his thumb brushing softly over my cheekbone. I’m completely hypnotized by the fire blazing in his eyes. Frozen in place, I let him lean closer, his lips drawing near to mine. Barely a breath apart, he stops—waiting. Waiting for my permission. A single blink is all it takes—I give it.
And then he melts against my mouth.
His kiss is tender, unhurried. Maybe it’s because of our differences, or maybe he’s just that careful by nature, but Prax holds back, mindful not to overwhelm me. The lips pressing to mine are unexpectedly warm, filled with a strange, simmering patience that sends a shiver racing down my spine.
Without thinking, I press into him, hands splaying over his chest. His body is firm but deceptively soft under my fingertips. Sure, I’ve touched his short, tightly packed fur before—back when he was sick—but not like this. Not when every cell in my body is attuned to the texture, the heat, the sensation of him.
Is it wrong to feel this way? He isn’t Human. He’s different—and yet, in so many ways, stunningly familiar. But does that even matter? He’s sentient. Intelligent. Fierce. Proud. Strong. And gods, he’s beautiful.
