Every night, I close my eyes to pay my soulmate a visit in his otherworldly garden. Some nights, I find him pensive and perched on a stone bench near the center fountain. On other nights, he’s trimming and clipping bushes along the great stone walls at the garden’s perimeter. Once, I found him sweetly sleeping under the strong thick elm tree branches wrapped in a wool blanket. We speak to each other like old friends, and he begs me to recount even the most boring details of my day. This is how it has been ever since I turned 16. He’s been my best friend, my confidante, a shoulder to cry on, all those cheesy things that teenagers say about the people they care about the most. But, we can feel things blossoming from friendship into something more. I know we both feel it. He has to feel it.

Tonight, I pace the bedroom floor in my silk pajamas hoping to summon up the courage to ask him all things that have been on my mind. It is the night of my eighteenth birthday after all. He owes me a present anyway. The thought of an ethereal gift exchange in the dreamscape brings a flurry of butterflies in my stomach and a smirk to my face. Enough stalling. I climb into my gigantic bed and beg sleep to cut through the anxiety and pull me into the garden.

“Good evening, princess,” his voice is especially musical and deep tonight. I scurry off to find him waiting in the arbor tunnel beneath the jasmine flowers.

“Hello,” I beam at him and reach out to touch his arm. It feels too real to be a dream. “Do you know what today is?”

“Of course, it’s your birthday! Happy birthday!” His hulking muscular arms pick me up gently to skip me playfully.

“Do you know what I want more than anything in the world?”

“What is it? Name it and we will dream it so.” His hands are still settled on my hips even though our spin under the stars is long since over. A breeze sends the scent of the place heavy upon us, and he pulls me just a little closer to shield me from the cold.

I look up at him through my lashes willing the words out of my lips, but they never come. I shuffle a little nervously, and he smiles. The breeze dies off and he tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear, and like a perfectly choreographed moment, he sinks his hand into my hair completely and pull me into the most perfect kiss. I loose myself completely in the moment, even my knees give way and he scoops me up gently against his body. Warms radiates from my core. When my shock wears away after a few seconds, I reach up and turn this lovely romantic moment into something more. This next part is where my anxiety has taken root. Will he shy away from me now?

I take my teeth and sink them into his lower lip then suck at it hard. I try to avoid eye contact, but the fire in his eyes is hard to miss. His body has stilled completely, clearly unsure of the next best move. I take the lead. It’s now or never. I pry open his lips with my tongue and get to work showing him how deeply I need him. Before long, he is returning my intensity. I am so pleasantly surprised that a soft smile and a little moan escape my lips into his mouth.

“Oh, little flower,” he moans back in reply.

A moment, or perhaps an eternity, later he sweeps me off my feet and carries me to that place beneath the elm tree. It’s the only place in the whole garden I have ever seen him sleep. We have never once met there. It always seem to be the most private space to him. When we arrive, I discover it has been decorated with hand tied bouquets, blankets, and jars of fireflies. He lays me down beneath those branches, planting a tender kiss on my forehead.

“I have waited so long to feel your kisses,” he half whispers, seemingly to himself. “It’s hard to believe it took until our last night in this incredible place to finally savor that moment.”

A deep panic sets in. “What are you talking about?”

“None of this is for forever,” he continues, now sitting with me and scanning my form with abandon. “I just want us to enjoy and soak in every detail. It’s too precious to lose.”

“I don’t understand,” tears well in my eyes now. “How can this be the last dream together?”

“It’s a curse, my love. It took us 16 years to find each other, so only two years were left to spend together.”

“Well, can’t we just find each other again? Like, in the real world this time?”

He runs his fingertips across my lips ever so softly now, but he won’t meet my teary gaze.

“I have been keeping a secret from you, flower,” he says, “and I have to come clean before we part. Do you remember when you told me how exciting it is to fall asleep each night because you knew you were on your way to me?”

I nod, completely unable to breath.

“Well, I don’t fall asleep to come meet you. Flower, I never leave this garden.”

“What does that mean? Of course you do. You tell me about your day each night.” Tears come hot and steady down my cheeks and he works feverishly to swipe them away. He cannot possibly say what I think he is going to say.

“I am already gone, flower.”

“No,” I choke. “You’re lying.”

“You know I’m not. You can feel its true. Can’t you?”

I shake my head to erase the image of my pain reflected back in his eyes. It’s true. We have never lid to each other in this place, even when feelings made things so incredibly difficult. I cry inconsolably now, and he wraps me up in his arms. I fit perfectly in his lap, but oh, what a terribly blissfully impermanent comfort it is to be here. Time passes like this for a while. Before I know it the sun is starting to color the sky above our little garden. A fresh panic sets in and I grab hold of him. I cannot lose him now. Especially now that I know the truth.

“You’ll have to let me go,” he says, running his fingers through my long dark hair. “You have a whole life waiting for you.”

I kiss him and shake my head no, no, no. I pull his hand to my cheek and nestle in trying to will us to be linked somehow.

He lifts my chin softly with his fingers so that my gaze must meet his, and now he’s welling up with tears at the sight of how close dawn is to the horizon. “You have been more heaven than a man like me deserves.”

Perhaps if they had mentioned the fangs, the others would have become nothing more than Halloween costume fodder. Like space Dracula or shimmery brooding teen antiheroes struggling with a sort of sobriety and looking for humanity in high school chem labs. Instead, the elders hid this one significant detail away, and in doing so, the others from beyond retained just enough humanity that their stories were relegated to the place where deities go to live long and inspire wonder. And when humanity’s spirituality faltered, they were wrapped in the frantic embrace of conspiracy and kept on life support through the arts. Truth, even the tampered truth, endures all.

My earliest memory of the others is meeting a slender being at the foot of my bed when I was just six. I knew it was a mother, somehow, but I can’t tell you how. Perhaps it was her gentle eyes and soft mannerisms that imparted a sense of safety. She sat on the quilt on my bed and felt along the stitches with her long pale fingers. When I jumped awake and caught the sight of her, she smiled, but only with her eyes, and when she spoke, she looked away and out the window like communicating with me took a thoughtfulness that was beyond the scope of ordinary life.

“Do not fret, young one,” she softly said. “I have come merely to conclude my observation period.”

I remember those words so sharply now, even as other memories from my childhood have faded with time. I can feel my stunned silence clutching at my throat even now as I recall it.

“I have been monitoring your line for a very long time. You are who I have been waiting for.”

“Me?” I croaked.

“You won’t see me again after tonight, young one,” she turned to me slowly and her gaze cut through me, sending a shiver down my spine.

She gently reached out to rest her hand on my toes where their jutted up beneath the quilt and a wave of calm washed over me. My throat softened and I eased back into the pillows.

“Rest now, but you must remember just one thing.” She began to stand ever so slowly, like she was desperately trying to keep an animal from being spooked off.

I nodded as my eyelids grew heavier, heavier, heavier.

“Endurance requires surrender.”

These words, largely meaningless and confusing to my young mind, became like a puzzle to work out as I fell asleep each night, and as I grew up, still confused by their larger purpose, the phase morphed into something much closer to a prayer.

Smoke clears in the distance, and at long last, I see the skeletal remains of a small city. Tears flood my eyes and I tell my horse we are going to make it after all.

I spoke too soon.

With near biblical precision, an arrow pierces me right in the heart and the taste of my own blood and the sight of my panicked horse become my very last moments in this worldly dimension.

Everything fades to black. There is no flood of memories, no feeling of accomplishment or peace. For a moment, or a millennia, I am drift and enveloped in nothingness.

Then, the feeling of a hand around mine. A tender caress of my cheek. My back in against the chest of another. A soft melody fills my ears before my eyes snap back to life. It is not a song I would ever have known, but it echoes true in my body, even as I just come to inhabit it for the first time.

“Come back to me, love.” A man coaxes me a long.

He hums the melody a little more. He runs his fingers through my hair. I feel the thump thump thump of my heart and then a blinding flood of light as I will myself back to him, largely out of curiosity and not at all out of desire to live. Death, even in the sight of a possible city and means to my survival, is preferable to a post-apocalyptic existence, especially one where you can’t seem to hand yourself over to the grave.

When at last my vision clears, I am in the arms of the most handsome man I have ever seen. We are in a place that is thunderously quiet, and yet, it is not peaceful and that is all I am sure of.

“Who the hell are you?” I ask, but I nestle a little further in his embrace regardless.

“It’s alright. You are safe now. We are going to take care of you.” The stunningly calm man whisks a small piece of my hair behind my ear. “You’re home.”

Confusion gives way to panic as I notice his glowing blue eyes.

“Shh,” he says, rocking me gently, “Welcome to purgatory, my love. You’re home at last.”

Memory breathes But only when it holds you.

Sleepless nights filled with your scent, perfumed by the love wrought, These memories could rise up and walk among the living.

She takes me to my knees in the kitchen.

Watch as she goes, Stretching like a cat with claws barred, She pads stealthily into the mundane moments of my mind.

She scorches my skin in the shower.

The squish of her hair on the breeze, Hips swaying down the hall, She invades me intent to conquer.

She holds me in prison in the closet.

The movement of her mouth, Taught and troublesome, She ends worlds with the words that escape her lips.

She binds me to the bed and strips me naked.

When dawn rises, Her soft skin grows warm beneath my imagined touch, And she leaves me breathless and utterly alone.

Memory breathes But only when it holds you.

I settled myself into a deep meditation and let’s the tendril free. It rushed to her with such tenacity that it sent a shutter down my spine. She was waiting in the dreamscape meadow. Just where I left her. Good girl.

When she spotted me in the distance, she jumped up and took off at a sprint. Even here, her breasts bounced and her hair swirled in the coastal air. The combination threatened to bring me to my knees, and I was hard and longing for her in an instant. I caught her, sending us tumbling to the dirt entwined.

Our lips collided together, and she started pummeling in punches. Her hot tears felt like my own on my face. And though I tried to pull her close to me tenderly, she resisted with a fury I had never before seen her unleash. Through the connection I could sense her desire to be fucked by me burn as intense as her desire to kill me where I stood.

“How could you leave me here? You fucking asshole.”

“You know I had to.”

Her panting revealed her inner struggle, and I went in with my hands to subdue her. I caught her at the wrists and she still writhed and tried to fight. I threw us both to the ground, and the dirt around us felt cool. It was scented with the tall grass crushed from our struggle.

I sat on top of her now, my hips pressing down heavy against hers. I loved the sight of her pale skin restrained against my dead grey hands. Her hair fanned out around her like a halo and I longed to keep her here, in utter submission and safety for the rest of my existence.

“Ok, little human, you are going to do exactly what I say.” I growled and made my dream eyes flood black.

She kept on fighting and the force of her hips struggling against mine was intoxicating. “Fuck you.” She hissed.

“Oh, trust me. You’re going to.”

“You can fight me, but I’m always going to protect you, even if it means leaving your sorry ass behind where I know you’re safe.”

“You can’t just tell me what to do. You don’t own me.”

“I do own you, Mate. And judging by the scent of you, you fucking love it,” I say, as I shift one hand down the length of her body to circle, into her pants.

She now had one hand free and wasted now time pulling out the little dagger. I saw the glint of it as she raised it to my throat.

“I will bleed you dry,” she said through her teeth, but a moan escaped to the surface.

“Oh, you certainly will, but it won’t be the taste of my blood on your lips tonight.”

I flicked the dagger aside and as she scrambled after it. I used her momentum to turn her so her soft stomach was pressed hard into the dirt. I pulled a fistful of her hair to sit her up until her back crashed into my chest, and I pressed my sharp alien teeth into her neck, pricking her just slightly to send a tingle through her. I could feel her trembling, not from fear, but the force of her desire desperately wanting to break free.

How could I have been so blind? He had been trying to tell me all along.

Hearing the others snickering around her she could feel a blush overtake her cheeks. Everything. He had heard her every private thought from the moment he laid eyes on her. Not just mundane things, but fiercely private things. And horrible things. She wasn’t sure which feel was pulling her under into a sea of panic. Pain? Embarrassment? Shame.

Glancing over his shoulder to sneak a peek at at her reaction to all this was more to comfort her, and provide a false sense of autonomy. Tears were welling in her eyes, her heart raced, and the thoughts that struck her now were dark and clawing. I tried to will her to breathe, knowing damn well I would never have that kind of power over her.

“That’s enough,” I sneered at the crowd. Scanning their thoughts, I quickly confirmed all were going to back off without much more force. Sickening as it was, this was all about public humiliation, and there were a lot of thoughts about taking us both down a few pegs. “Move along. Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

When they had all left us in a tense silence, I turned to where she lingered, protected between me and the wall. She let the tears flow gently. I reached for her arm.

“It’s really ok.”

“I have treated you so terribly, and you could hear it all planned out.”

“I kept trying to tell you, but,” I rubbed the back of my neck and turned my eyes to the ground. I tried to stay out of he thoughts in this moment, even though it took so much energy to back away. I knew from the start I would be fighting a loosing battle in this cramped hallway, standing so close to her, smelling her intoxicating scent.

He has to know how I really feel….

My eyes dart up. I do know. I can’t break away now. What do I say?

She blushed. Don’t think. Act. Act. Act.

Her hand envelopes mind and she tugs me with a desperate force. It’s like finally locking into orbit. I bend to her will and allow her to pummel my lips with the warmest kisses. Her small palm on my cheek. It feels like it’s sending ripples through me.

Does he like this? Does he understand me? Panic. He grip on my hand begins to loosen and falter.

I raise my hand to pull her closer. Her thoughts race by and I let them go. Using only the signals her body sends me through our touch, I know what I need to do. I back her into the wall. In one motion, I lift her and, breathing heavily, the kisses come faster and deeper now. She’s wrapped around me as I march us to my quarters. On the outer edge of my consciousness, I know others are watching and whispering, some out loud and some into the voids of their unconscious.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers into my ear. “You have to understand. I’m fucked up. I just. I’m not right.” Her memories, some more like nightmares, creep up into her mind and start to pull her under.

“Never be sorry again.”

The door whooshes open and I thrust us inside. Then the chatter and noise beyond us fades to black as the door closes and shuts out the outside world.

She took one step out over the ashen plains before her and he dove to offer her cover.

“Take this, and whatever you do, don’t reach out for the purple mist,” he said, a deathly serious look took his face.

With a firm grip on the umbrella, she continued to navigate the rough terrain beneath her feet. She couldn’t Seem to hide the wonder in her eyes.

“This is the most beautiful place I have ever seen,” she mumbled to herself. Turning to look back she drank in the sight of him here, in his natural place. He blended in almost entirely with the field. His eyes intent on her now.

He began explaining the flora and fauna to her. The purple mist was acidic and caused the ashen color at their feet. “This is the winter season, you could say. The mist settles in and scorches everything. When the rain returns, it will be like spring. Everything will come back to life.”

“And it doesn’t hurt you?”

“Not like it hurts you.” He pulled back a sleeve and let the mist settle on his arm. She watched as it bleached patches of his skin. They shifted from opalescent to Stoney grey. “Our ancestors would settle in and let it overcome them. In deep hibernation, they would wait to be awoken but the planet in the spring.”

They had crested a the small hill before them, and she surveyed the sight of a stone structure ahead.

“Come on,” he tugged her onward. “Before my brothers come and ambush us.”

She looked nervous, and he smiled warmly in reassurance.

The snow and sleet pelted the window softly as the storm continued strong as ever. Ori’s slender fingers gently explored the tree ornaments, and he seemed unaware of his soft glow. His opalescent skin reflected the twinkle lights and he began to camouflage right in.

The house was silent now, and she was grateful her family was in bed at last. She walked to the other room and the soft sweet sound of White Christmas enveloped them.

He turned to her in excitement, “Is this better music?”

She nodded, and extended a hand to him. He accepted with an eyebrow raised. Leonora pulled him close and placed his hands on her hips then moved her own to his shoulders. She started to sway to the melody, and he followed as best he could. A warm smile crept across her face, and she buried herself in his cool board chest. She began to make a soft sound mimicking the music.

“Humming,” he said confidently.

She nodded against him. “And you’re dancing.”

A warm sense of triumph thrummed through him, and he stood a little taller.

When the song ended, he kissed her softly.

“They’re going to wonder where I am,” he muttered, almost ashamed to end such a blissful day of discovery. “I have to go.”

“Right now?”

“Soon.”

She had already made her choice hours ago. Pushing through the exhaustion, she retreated to her room then returned with her uniform on and her duffle over her shoulder. Marching right past him to the kitchen, she grabbed a pen and paper then started to right,

“Where do you think you’re off to,” he came up behind her and grabbed her hips softly pulling her to him.

“It’s my turn to follow you home,” she announced. “Don’t worry mom and dad are pretty used to the cryptic notes and disappearing act.”

The words were foreign to him. Auditory translators were a requirement for intergalactic relations, but the written word remained a luxury.

She read it for him.

“Thanks for a great Christmas. Best yet. Called back to base early. I will check in when I can.”

At the bottom a word was scrawled out larger and more artfully. He pointed to it.

“That’s my name.”

He traced it slowly, focusing intently to memorize each curve and swirl on the paper. He wanted to know her in all her forms.

—

She walked away from the sitting area and pulled out her yellow hard case. They each received one for some limited quantity of personal effects beyond the essentials like grooming products and clothes. Not much but it was cherished by almost all the station inhabitants. She popped the lid and revealed some art supplies, not surprising, but she shoved them all aside and reached to the bottom. Her face shifted and he felt her body tense up. Returning to him now, she carried a small wooden box. She set it down on the table between them, and winced.

“I want you to hear music, and not just me humming or something stupid,” said Leonora, not able to make eye contact. She wobbled a little on the edge of her seat nervously.

She nudged the box towards him. Ori gently reached for the object to inspect it further, and it appeared so small in his large grey hands. Decorative little objects adorned it, and his hands found a small brass latch. He flicked it gently and opened to lid. Inside, the glint of metal and shine of stones hidden among scraps of paper. The lid rested open and revealed a reflective oval and all in an instant he took in his alien face framed by fleshy pink fabric and a delicate sound chimed out to him. He lifted the box closer, not wanting to miss a single sound. His grey eyes pierced through her as she drifted away into her thoughts.

Leonora didn’t want to let the memories of childhood invade her mind. She was fighting a losing battle and couldn’t stop the flood of tears welling in her eyes. She squeezed them shut and her body tensed in resistance. The pain grew until she had no choice but to give in. She sang softly, and tears rolled down her face.

Amazing Grace

The words followed the strange and beautiful sounds escaping the box. And after a few minutes, her voice and the gentle music faded to silence. Ori had finished marveling at the tiny treasure and closed the lid. With a click of the latch, he locked it and set it into the middle of her table.

“Were you humming?”

“No, that’s singing, and I’m not good at it.”

“Why does it make your eyes wet?”

“It makes me cry because it reminds me of a time I was sad,” she lifted her hand to wipe her face.

He caught her wrist and inspected the tears on her fingers.

“Humans are so watery,” he mumbled.

She chuckled and sniffled. “When I come back from leave, I will bring you better examples of music. I will ditch some art supplies so we can have more to talk about.”

“You leave tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “My parents want me home for Christmas.”

“What is a Christmas?” he was unmistakably excited to hear this new word.

“It’s this day once a year where families gather and celebrate. There’s decorations, special food and drinks, and people exchange presents to show they care about each other. You have to see it to understand, I guess.” She realized it sounded embarrassing and juvenile.

Presents sounded family to him, even if this Christmas was odd. He stood slowly and pulled a package from the folds in his robes.

“This is for Christmas then,” he passed the object to her gently. “I wanted to give you something to say thank you, and I was going to wait for tomorrow. Now seems better. It will make you less sad.”

She smiled gently pushing his hand back. “I can’t accept anything. I don’t have anything to give you in return.”

“Is it required to exchange gifts equally? Is this customary?”

“No,” she started to blush. “But it is polite and I am working on not being an asshole, remember?”

He paused to work out the strange social conundrum. “Repay me with more music when you return.”

She sighed and he thrust the package at her excitedly. He inched his chair closer to hers and took a seat.

As she tore open the decorative fabric wrapping, she peered up through her lashes at him. Her heart skipped a beat. Was starting to smile?

She looked down to discover an alien dagger. She grinned devilishly.

“How did you sneak this in,” she demanded.

“I know a guy,” he waved his hand dismissively, “Press the button on the side.”

It electrified in her palm, and she felt a wave of hot anticipation flow through her. She couldn’t take her eyes off the exquisite etching work. The weight of it felt perfect in her hand.

“It’s to keep you safe,” he half whispered to her.

Her memory drifted back to that first night they met in private quarters for their research instead of the library deck. She shivered recalling the way the other alien had chased her through the stacks, hunting her down like prey. Unarmed and unprepared for his predatory advances, she ran to the only person on board that she could trust.

“Thank you for what you did that night. You didn’t have to open your door, but I’m grateful you did.”

Morning was breaking and sun poured into the window of her childhood bedroom. Across the thread bare quilt at their feet, she traced the brightest ray with her foot. It led a blazing path right to the muscular arms of an alien jutting out from the soft sheets. The light continued on across his face, to his head, across the pillow. It glimmered off his exposed opalescent skin in a way that she was quite sure humanity had no words to describe. It was tantalizing. Like the glint of gold or the shimmer of precious stones. Not garish, but still opulent.

As haunting as an alien in a girl’s bed might be for some, this was more than just an alien. This is the man who spent the night leaving her breathless and wanting for more. She had never been in love, but she had lusted for another man before. What she felt for Ori was past the point of lust. But was it love? Did it matter?

She took in the subtle details of her room, of him, of the moment. She erected a shrine of it in her mind and knew she would be retreating there often. The warmth of the sun and the feeling of his body naked and prone beside her would be enough to heat her on cold nights in orbit.

Ori started coming back to life before her. He stretched, almost cat like, and she watched as his yawn exposed canine teeth that were more like fangs than teeth. She wondered how he had been so deep inside her last night, and yet she managed so escape without so much as a scratch. Well, not a scratch there at least. Finally, his grey eyes opened and he smiled. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen him smile before. He breathed in deeply as he ran his hand over the curve of her hip beneath the quilts.

“This scent of yours,” he started in a gravelly morning tone, “I am never going to be able to shake it.”

“Mmm is that so?”

“If you’re not careful, I will lick you dry some day.”

“You can try,” Leonora teased him as she left the bed and sauntered naked right out of the room.

For a brief moment, he took in the sight of her as she left. The sway of her hips, the dimples of her back, the way her hair fell along her spine. He reveled in the marks he left on her ass the night before. He raised an eyebrow at the thought of what he would do to her next. Quilts flew as he pursued her. The glow of his scales matched the morning sun.