by Hart, Alana
I step forward, coming so close my nose almost smashes into his chest. “Maybe I don’t want to be safe anymore.”
His demeanor changes. Something dark lurks beneath the surface. His muscles tighten, and yet, simultaneously, his movements become more fluid.
My body reacts immediately and completely as if it were made for him. I lean to the side and run my hand down the side of the ship as if it were his chest and I could feel his heartbeat beneath my fingers. He’s still close enough for me to touch—to kiss.
He makes a low note in the back of his throat. “What do you want then, Sally?”
My body tenses, quivers, tightens. I hold my breath.
He bends over and runs a metal finger from my cheek to my collarbone. “You’ve got something around your neck. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before.”
I can’t believe he’d even think he would notice it in the first place. “It’s nothing,” I whisper. We shouldn’t be talking. We shouldn’t be touching. There’s too much tension building between us, and if it doesn’t go somewhere soon I fear I’m going to go crazy.
But he’s still focused on my damn necklace. He draws the sterling silver chain out from under my dress until he can see the locket beneath.
His breath catches.
The chain suddenly feels like it’s on fire. I snatch it from his hand and put it back under my dress where it belongs, turning away from him.
“Someone gave that to you, didn’t they?” he whispers.
“Y-yes.”
“Someone who loves you and who would hate for you to throw your life away.”
I gulp. “I’m not throwing it away. I—”
“Yes you are, Sally.”
I shudder as shame reddens my cheeks. “You don’t understand. You don’t know me, or how long I’ve waited for this.”
“Waited for what? To become a Mail Order Bride? Why would you even do this?”
I grit my jaw. I don’t have to explain myself to you, I think, but I also can’t let him get away with putting me down like this. “I loved someone a long time ago, and I’m tired of waiting for him. I’m tired of living in a place that reminds me of him. I’m tired of loving him when he’s never coming back.”
My savior goes still.
I shut my eyes. The locket burns through my chest and into my raw, beating heart. I wish I could tear it out. I wish that I never had to feel this way. But I still do, and even more embarrassing confessions flow out of me.
“I’ve waited so long for him to return to me that now all I know how to do is wait. It’s pathetic, I know. I’m codependent or have mental problems or something. But I swear, when he left it was like he took a part of myself with him and, without it, I don’t feel alive.”
He steps back. He was retreating. He didn’t want to look at me anymore. Of course he wouldn’t. This kind of obsessive love was shameful.
“You’re taking that away from me,” I call after him. “Because I wasn’t meant to be with him, I was meant to be with someone else. And you’re taking that person away from me.”
“Am I?” he asks softly. “I saw your file. You didn’t want to be with a Ta’aran.”
“Because I didn’t want to remember him every time I looked at my lover!” I cry out. “But I’ll endure it if it’s the only way I can move on.”
He looks down. “Wouldn’t it be better to chose?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, wouldn’t it be better to pick someone yourself instead of trusting fate to hand someone to you?”
“I did chose once, and he left,” I admit. “Maybe now, I’m ready to trust fate.”
“Well, maybe your mate isn’t ready.”
I wince. “Why not?”
“Because he doesn’t want to watch you die.”
I push myself off the wall, stepping towards him. “What’s really going on here? Why do you want to get rid of me?”
“Your mate wants you safe as soon as possible. I’m just doing what I’ve been hired to do.”
“I don’t think that’s all. Please, tell me the truth.”
He sighs, leaning into me. I can feel his body’s heat through his armor. I wonder if it’s normal for Ta’aran males to have such a magnetic pull. It had been like this with Darak the night we met.
He’d touched me as if he were sinking into me. His eyes had glowed, gently. And I’d stood perfectly still as my body buzzed with a new awareness.
He’s going to kiss me, I thought.
But he didn’t, and my Ta’aran savior doesn’t either. Instead, he brushes my hair from my face. The simple gesture leaves me as breathless as I would have been had we kissed. A shiver moves from the base of my skull, through my arms, and to the tips of my fingers.
He seems unaffected. The only things I “feel” are the things I read into his movements. The tenderness I think I feel through his gloved fingers. The longing emanating from his body.
“We can’t do this,” he whispers. “Your mate can’t do this.”
I look up into the dark sockets of his helmet. “Why not?”
“He doesn’t want you.”
“I don’t believe that. The bond—”
“Alright, a part of him wants you—a weak part that he has no interest in granting any power. And now that he’s saved your life, he owes you nothing.”
“Just let me meet him once,” I beg, horrified by how desperate I sound.
“He doesn’t want to meet you.”
“That’s not for you—”
“This conversation is over,” he interrupts, turning. He takes three paces, and opens a door to his left. “This is your room. I’m going back to the cockpit. If you need anything, the other man, Raal, will be happy to help you.”
With that, he stalks off, and I don’t follow.
My palms slip down the cold, smooth metal of the ship as I slide to my knees. I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know one thing for sure. The Ta’arak who saved me is my mate.
Madame Venus was right. I feel differently around him. In fact, my body weeps for him. I know he feels these things just as keenly as I do.
And still, he doesn’t want me.
Chapter 9
The moment my stomach starts growling, Raal comes in with some food.
I push myself off my bed, rubbing my eyes. “Good timing.” It might even be a little too good.
“The captain is monitoring you,” Raal explains.
Wow. That isn’t creepy at all.
He smiles as he sets the tray down. “He worries about you.”
I poke at a weird orange blobby thing on the plate. “I wish he’d stop worrying and start doing something else.”
“Me too,” Raal replies, “Which is why I’ve looped the security footage.”
Panic hits me hard as my head whips up. “What?”
“Don’t worry. I don’t want to hurt you.” He grins devilishly. “But the captain doesn’t know that.”
Adrenaline courses through me. “What do you mean?”
“I mean we have maybe one minute until he realizes the security footage has been looped. At that moment, he’s going to rush in here, searching for you.” He nods at the plate. “Eat up. You’ll need your strength when he finds you.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
The old Ta’aran just laughs. “You’ll see.”
***
Not even a minute after Raal shuts the door, the Ta’aran who saved me bursts through it.
I drop the weird orange lump of “food” I’d been trying to eat. I had no idea what Raal meant about getting my strength back, but I decided it was a warning I should heed.
My Ta’aran savior leaps to the center of the room, alert and ready to fight. When his glowing blue eyes land on me, they widen as if they can’t believe what they’re seeing.
And you know what? I can’t believe what I’m seeing either.
“Sally,” he whispers, falling to his knees before me. “Are you h
urt?”
I can’t respond.
I can’t breathe.
Ten years.
People can change so much during that time, and aliens age differently than us. I wondered if I’d even recognize him if I saw him again. Sometimes, I wonder if I’d already seen him and just not known it.
But I did recognize him.
The small scar was still on his temple. His lips were still thin, and his eyelashes still so long that they almost seemed feminine. But back then, we’d been the same size. I remember resting my chin on his neck while we both stood. Our noses bonking when we kissed. Looking directly into his eyes.
Now, he was so much larger. Even on his knees he towered above me. And all of those things I’d once found comfort in—the vivid blue of his skin, the depth of his eyes, the angles of his beautifully sculpted face—unnerved me.
His eyes sharpen into focus. He must realize I recognize him.
A part of me wants to lean forward, put my hands on his cheeks. I wonder if his skin is still that smooth. So much of him seems so familiar, and yet ten years apart have made him a stranger.
My heart beats faster.
“You’re my soul mate,” I whisper. I’m not as surprised as I should be. I remember the feeling that consumed me when we met. It was like each individual cell in my body was buzzing. I feel it again now, eclipsing my fear, anger and surprise with the sensation of coming home.
Maybe I looked at the stars because I knew that he was my home. Maybe that’s why I never felt quite at ease wherever I was. Because a part of me had been touched by whatever fate drew us together, and it made me yearn for him.
He looks down. “I’m so sorry, Sally. I never wanted you to find out like this.”
“Find out what?” I choke out.
“That it was me.” He cringes. “I’m so sorry you had to find me.”
I open my mouth, but no words come out. I’m afraid because I know what he’s saying even though I don’t understand why.
He makes no move to help me as I stand. As I stumble back into the wall. As I gasp for air even though my lungs are collapsing.
Night after night, I dreamed of this man. I yearned for him. I’d sacrificed so much to find him again, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. Even knowing this I’d do it, because the bond between us was as sick as it was beautiful. Call it DNA, call it fate, or call it both, it didn’t matter. Our bodies wanted to be together and that desire overrode all others.
Or at least I thought it did. Because even though this man was my soul mate, he was going to leave me again.
Chapter 10
We were young when we met, and I was poor like everyone else in our town. One of my cousins had given me a pair of yellow rain boots she’d outgrown. I hadn’t quite grown into them yet, but I didn’t mind. Wearing shoes a few sizes too big made me feel older.
My stomach grumbled. I ignored it as I stomped up the hillside in my oversized boots that sloshed in the mud. It had rained all day so I didn’t get a chance to play. I figured I was owed a little time to myself outside, so I’d sneaked out. Unfortunately, mom was going to find out what I’d done. My nightgown was drenched from the long wet grass, and I’d have to turn on the hose to clean my boots and that would wake her up, so I figured I’d make the most of it by having the best time I could.
I sat when I reached the top of the hill. Shivering, I immediately regretted doing this. Now my butt was wet, too. Still, when the sun finally completely set, it would be worth it. There was no moon out tonight. Nothing would obscure my view of the stars.
The stories of distant planets seemed as fantastical as the unicorns in my storybooks. It was hard to imagine a life other than this one, where we woke when the sun rose, bundled up to go to school in a bright yellow bus.
I liked looking at them and imagining what was out there. That’s what I was doing when he appeared.
I didn’t notice him at first, but warmth filled my veins and my limbs started tingling. The sudden giddiness reminded me of when I’d downed half a glass of wine my grandma had left on the counter.
Something rustled in the grass behind me, cutting through my dreamy thoughts. I rolled onto my side, propped myself up on my elbows, and saw a boy staring at me.
Damn! I shot to my feet. People from the town weren’t supposed to be up here. I wiped my palms on my damp nightdress and looked down.
“Uh, sorry sir,” I said, then inwardly cringed. He was a boy, not a sir; would he think I was making fun of him? I was too afraid to look up and find out, so I kept going. “I was just taking a walk and lost my way. I’ll be on my way.”
With that, I turned and began stomping down the hill.
“Wait!” the boy yelled.
Now, I knew that at times like this—when you were facing certain punishment and the one who was gonna dish it out was asking you to wait—you should actually go faster. But for some reason, I stopped.
I heard the grass rustle behind me as he approached. “I’m not supposed to be here,” he said.
“Neither am I,” I admitted.
“Why did you come, then?”
“To look at the stars.”
When he said nothing, I glanced to my side so I could get a better look at him.
I couldn’t make out his features very well in the dark. Maybe if the moon had been out I would have noticed the odd color of his skin, but to me, right then, he looked like a normal boy and fellow conspirator.
I heard and saw him move closer, but I didn’t see his hand moving until it appeared right in front of my face so he could poke my cheek.
“Hey!” I yelled, stepping back. “What are you doing?”
The pointer finger he’d stuck me with was still raised. “You’re human, aren’t you?”
My breath caught. If he’s asking, that means he must be...
Aliens still weren’t commonplace where I was from. Sure, they’d been visiting for thousands of years, coming down from the heavens to leave their mark on human civilization, watch our struggles, and hider or influence our greatest technological advancements. Of course, contact with a Stage I world was illegal, so most who participated in such antics were teenagers. Messing around with the fate of an entire planet was the alien equivalent of TPing a house or getting drunk in the woods. Now that we were Stage II, the alien teenagers had moved on. It just wasn’t “cool” to mess with us since we knew what was up.
Still, those damn teens had left their mark. For example, Oregon had become the richest, most powerful, and most technologically and culturally advanced nation on earth once the Bigfoots banded together and sued the Tuali’ak for illegally abducting and experimenting on Homo Erectus way back when. All of those experiments (and so many years eluding Bigfoot hunters) had also made the Bigfoots super smart and savvy, so they’d been able to negotiate dual citizenship and did not accept the horrible trade and resource extraction deals the human politicians had salivated over. They, and the dolphins, were the only intelligent beings on earth that could afford space travel.
Yes, earth’s legacy would probably not be written by humankind, but Bigfoots. (And dolphins. And maybe giant squid. No one knew exactly what was going on, but they were doing something under the sea.)
My thoughts were interrupted by another rude poke to my face.
“Hey, what is your deal?” I asked, rubbing my cheek.
“Your skin is smooth like mine,” he whispered.
“Of course it’s smooth! I’m a girl.”
“But it doesn’t glow,” he continues. “Why isn’t it glowing?”
“What?”
He takes my hand, then, and pushes it to his chest. He sighed as tiny balls of light started flowing from the center of his chest like fireflies. When he opened his eyes, they were glowing like fireflies.
My little heart started beating fast and didn’t stop.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“Sally.”
“That’s a beautiful name.”
I
gulp and step forward. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“Tell them what?”
“That I’m out here.”
He smiled. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
And that was how it started. He and I, looking at each other instead of the stars. Both a bit breathless even though we were standing still. I was cold everywhere except for the hand he held and my burning cheeks.
I wondered if he could tell how nervous I was. Some aliens could perceive more than we could. I wondered if he could hear my heartbeat, if he could somehow see the redness in my cheeks.
Then, he squeezed my hand and I stopped worrying.
He told me about watching stars being born. Of the depth of space.
And I told him about school. The books I’d read. The things I dreamed.
At the end of each summer, he left. And each spring, he returned. Autumn became a time of waiting. Winter, of contemplation. I began to measure my life in seasons. It was silly, really, because only humans are affected by the seasons. I was becoming more and more human while he was becoming more alien.
Maybe it was forbidden, maybe it wasn’t. Either way, no one said anything. Even my mother was silent though she must have noticed me sneaking out each summer evening to meet him. She must have seen the way I looked out the window in the fall. She must have grown a bit depressed herself during the winter months when I became despondent.
But for many years, nothing changed. And then, suddenly, everything did.
At the end of that summer, he said he was leaving. There was a twinge in my heart, but it left quickly. He left and the end of every summer, and at the beginning of every spring he returned.
“This is different,” he said, but I still didn’t listen.
“I’m sorry,” he said, but I told him that he’d never have anything to apologize for.
And then he’d pulled me into his arms as if it were the last time. He’d touched me as if his fingertips were trying to memorize the back of my skull and the contours of my face.
A few straggling fireflies danced in my peripheral vision. The crickets had begun chirping. I remember his hand on my hip, the warmth of his breath on my neck, the softness of the loamy soil, the muscles in his back tensing beneath my fingertips.
