I barely register the soft rustle of sheets before I’m beneath him, lost in the way his body moves against mine. He knows how to read me—how to find every tension, every hesitation, and dissolve it with a kiss, a breath, a growl of satisfaction against my throat.
It doesn’t take long before my body hums, pliant and open beneath his. The world narrows to the sound of our breathing, the heat of his skin, the rough silk of his tongue as it teases mine into submission.
He doesn’t rush.
He doesn’t need to.
He’s devastatingly thorough.
And when he’s done with me, I lie there breathless and boneless, lulled into a dreamless sleep in his arms—utterly unraveled, utterly his.
***
We approach a small living unit nestled into the mountainside, blessed with a breathtaking view. In front of us stretches a majestic landscape. The peaks of the reddish mountains rise proudly, their snow-covered summits disappearing into the clouds. The jagged ridgelines seem to pierce the sky itself, and sunlight dances across the icy crystals, scattering sparkling reflections like a million stars caught in daylight.
Below, a valley of pine and fir trees stretches as far as the eye can see, their branches bowed under the weight of fresh snow. A stream winds its way through the forest, carving silver ribbons that glimmer in the morning light. There's a serene silence here, the kind that soothes your soul—the only sound the gentle whisper of the wind threading through the trees.
As we arrive, two men step out of the house, wide smiles on their faces. But when they catch sight of Prax, their eyes widen in astonishment.
“Constantin, Anatoli—good morning!” Hans calls out warmly. “Let me introduce Neela, who’s come all the way from Cydonia. And this is Prax, who, as you can probably tell, comesfrom even farther—Sadjim, if I’m not butchering the name of his home planet.”
There’s a brief moment of stunned silence, and then the two men usher us inside, inviting us to talk comfortably over a hot drink.
The unit is built for two, and it's clear they’ve made it their own. A projection wall in the living room displays a soothing image of a tranquil lagoon under a setting sun. Meanwhile, the entire front wall is nearly transparent, offering a stunning view of the snow-covered mountains outside. The contrast between the two environments—tropical warmth and icy grandeur—is striking and oddly harmonious.
“Would you like some herbal tea?” Constantin offers.
“Yes, please. That’ll warm these old bones of mine,” Hans says, settling onto the couch with a sigh of relief.
As we’d planned, Hans made the trip on his own snowmobile while Prax and I followed in our all-terrain vehicle. It wasn’t a long journey, but cold enough to bite at someone of Hans’s age.
“And you... uh, Prax?” Constantin says hesitantly. “I’m not sure what you drink. I mean… given your nature, I don’t really know…”
“Tea will be perfect,” my Sadjim reassures him with his usual grace.
The five of us sit down with our steaming mugs while Hans gives a concise summary of the situation to our two hosts. They listen attentively, interrupting only now and then with surprised gasps.
A flurry of questions follows—some about the various lifeforms Prax has encountered, others about the latest events concerning Vassili and his crew. Our hosts are engaged and thoughtful, absorbing every detail with genuine concern.
Once the full picture is laid out, a contemplative silence falls over the room. Everyone’s weighing the situation, considering the risks and the possible moves ahead.
Then Anatoli rises. He grabs his thick coat and turns to Prax.
“You need to get to the Arabia Terra Center,” he says with urgency. “You must speak with Do-yun. He’ll listen. Come outside—I’ll show you where you need to go. From up here, we can see all the gorges in the valley below.”
Remembering the promise I made this morning to my gorgeous Sadjim—to stay close to him—I immediately stand to follow. Plus, I left Pallas in our vehicle, so I might as well check if he’s awake and wants to stretch his legs or hunt with Prax.
We all exit the unit and follow Anatoli to the edge of a majestic cliff. Today, the weather is perfect—clear skies letting Phobos, Mars’s larger and more misshapen moon, loom above us like a lumpy stone god. Deimos, smaller and further out, looks more like a bright star, its faint disk barely visible to the naked eye.
A bit daunted by the steep drop, I stop a few yards short, along with Constantin and Hans.
“You really do have an extraordinary view,” Hans says with a touch of awe.
“Oh, we know,” Constantin replies with a grin. “That’s exactly why we chose this unit. Even though it’s far from the center, it’s worth it. We head down every other week, but the time we spend here—this place—it’s priceless.”
I glance over at my handsome alien lover while the others chat about something involving bear garlic—a pungent root imported from the French Alps, apparently growing wild in these mountains.
My beautiful hunter towers over Anatoli by several inches. He’s pulled on the top half of his suit, covering that sculpted chest I love so much—but I understand. He doesn’t want to makeour hosts uncomfortable with his full pelt on display. Still, I can’t help but smile at the thought—does he really think his visible black nose and those striking golden eyes aren’t already unusual enough?
