Chapter 12 Neela
My day has been exhausting. There’s a virus spreading through the colony, and I haven’t had a single minute to breathe. Seriously, what was the point of bringing Earth viruses to Mars? Who thought that was a good idea?
And just when I thought I was finally done for the day, Francine called while I was still in the center of Cydonia.
According to her, Armand was unusually tired.
So I took a detour to their place. Turns out, her husband wasn’t all that exhausted, but both of them have been feeling a little lonely since their daughter left.
It’s not the first time they’ve called me—less out of concern for their health, and more because they want some company. I’m always happy to oblige.
But today, I’ve got Prax waiting for me at home. Granted, they don’t know about my mystery guest, so I can’t really blame them. Still, I politely decline their offer to stick around and chat, and head back to my place.
I’m almost certain I’ll find Kiran there, just like every night this past week. That little rascal talked Meghan into keeping Sanjay all week so he could “keep an eye” on Prax. I have no idea what’s driving him to do that. What could this Sadjim possibly do that might hurt me?
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 looks like 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, “And Kitty, 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 even do in 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 the cruelty 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.
Sensing the swirl of questions in my head, he breaks the kiss and pulls back just enough to search my gaze. His confidence doesn’t waver—not even a little. He simply waits, giving me space to choose. Not pressuring. Just present.
Will I really let myself be held back by old prejudices, like those from Earth’s distant past?
It’s been established for generations that attraction and love have no color, no gender, no species.
The man standing in front of me may not be Human, but his values—his strength despite his cracks, his humor, his quiet little gestures that I’ve noticed but never commented on—they’ve slowly, inevitably worked their way into my heart.
And then there’s this magnetic pull between us. This force that keeps dragging me toward him, no matter how hard I try to be rational.
With renewed certainty, I lean in and kiss him back.
Maybe that was the final green light he needed, because this time, he doesn’t hold back. He captures my breath with raw intensity, his mouth devouring mine with a hungry sort of playfulness that sparks something dangerous deep in my core. A need that hums low and hot through my belly.
When his tongue brushes against mine, I gasp softly in surprise—it’s textured, rough, covered in tiny, rasping ridges that send an unexpected thrill racing through me. Different. Alien. And yet… incredibly good.
He looms over me now, all heat and power, his tall frame pressing me against the wall. There’s nothing timid about him anymore. His body is all around me, warm and unyielding, a shield and a temptation all at once.
And if the insistent tension in his muscles is anything to go by, he’s more than ready to take this further.
“Crhhh… Crsshh… Neela? Neela?”
The static of the CCC snaps me out of my sensual haze. Channel 3!
I break away from Prax and dash for the device.
“Hello? It’s Neela!”
“Oh, thank Ares, you’re there. Can you come by the house? It’s Youssef.”
“What’s going on? Is it urgent?”
“I slipped coming back from the center. I hit a patch of ice. I can’t put any weight on my foot—my ankle’s all swollen and blue!” he whimpers.
I glance at the time. If I hurry, I can cover the twelve miles to his place by snowmobile, treat him, and make it back without delay.
“On my way!” I confirm, cutting the signal.
I grab my medical kit, a compression wrap, shove my boots on, throw on my coat—and nearly slam into Prax’s chest as he steps in front of me.
“It’s late,” he growls.
“This patient needs help. Move, you’re wasting my time.”
“How far is he?”
“About ten miles from here. If I keep moving, I’ll be back before the temperature drops too much.”
“And what if it takes longer than expected?”
“That’s happened before. In that case, I just stay over. If his ankle’s broken, I might need to stay a bit longer, yeah.”
“This Youssef… is he male?”
“He’s a man, yes. Why are you asking?”
“Because if I were him, I’d definitely find a reason to make you stay longer,” he growls.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” I snap, shooting him a sharp look. “Now be a good kitty and let me do my job!”
I brush past him with all my gear and straddle my snowmobile.
On my porch, Prax stands with his arms crossed, a dark look on his face.
Does he think this is the first time I’ve gone out late for an emergency?
And just because he kissed me doesn’t mean he gets to decide what I can and can’t do. I turn away and power up.
Fifteen minutes later, I arrive at Youssef’s place. I place my hand beside the door—it dematerializes silently. He’s lying on the couch, gray-faced. I take off my coat and start my exam.
His ankle is swollen, tender, bruised all over. He’s clearly in pain.
“You’ve got a bad sprain. We’ll follow the RICE protocol—Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation. No more activity starting now. I’ll wrap a cold pack in a cloth to reduce swelling, bandage the ankle, and you need to keep it elevated. I’ll leave you a painkiller to take morning and night.”
“But how am I supposed to manage?” he asks, worried.
“Listen, Youssef, this will take weeks—four to six, at least. You can’t stay alone here. You’ll want to use that foot too soon and just make it worse. I’ll call it in on Channel 3—you’ll be transported to the Cydonia medical center tomorrow. They’ll take care of you during your recovery.”
“Damn ice. This sucks.”
“I know. It’s frustrating. But if you follow my advice, you’ll be back on your feet soon. For tonight, you should sleep on the couch. I’ll leave everything you need nearby.”
By the time I finally leave, it’s almost dark. I’ve made him a warm drink, brought him a blanket, an extra pillow, fixed dinner, and arranged for his transfer. I even gave him something to help him sleep.
Outside, swirling winds and icy gusts make visibility almost zero. I hesitate. Staying here would be smarter. It’s late and the weather’s turned.
But some foolish impulse drives me home—back to Prax, who’s probably waiting and worried.
I get on the snowmobile and take the route back. I drive slowly—visibility is awful. The longer I go, the more I regret it. This is exactly how my mother died—leaving late after a house call, taking a wrong turn, getting lost in the night. The polar temperatures did the rest.
Already, the cold is seeping through my thermal gear. These clothes are meant to regulate heat—but there’s a limit. And we’re well past it now.
Flakes sting every exposed inch of skin. I’m soaked and freezing. I think I’m halfway. Too late to turn back. If I want to survive, I need to move faster.
But my muscles won’t cooperate—I’m shaking too hard. As I round a bend, I can’t avoid a snowbank. My ride crashes. I fly over the handlebars, landing in a thick drift.
Dazed, I struggle to get up. Lying down is a death sentence. I try to yank the snowmobile loose—nothing.
I scan for options. I’ve got at least two and a half miles left. Poor visibility, strong winds, deep snow, and I’m already exhausted. It could take three times longer than usual. That’s not going to work.
I need shelter. I scan the area—nothing. I walk a hundred yards down the trail. Still nothing. I’ll have to search off-path.
My panic is real, though I keep it tightly leashed. Losing it now will only make things worse. I veer into the trees, hoping to find something.
Suddenly, I lose my footing and slide several yards down an unseen slope. My head hits something hard—sharp pain bursts at my temple.
The fall ends. I’m sprawled out, dazed, my head throbbing.
How the hell am I going to get out of this?