5. Adella

5

ADELLA

I give myself over to the kiss. This kiss. I’ve dreamed of it so, so many times. Daydreams, sleeping dreams, fantasies and ingloriously vain hope. When we kiss it is unlike anything I’ve ever known before or since.

It’s so much more than a kiss. It’s a connection. An understanding. A knowing. Really there aren’t words that describe it and nothing since has ever been able to replace it or even come close. Our lips move together and I run my hands through his gorgeous, long, supple white hair. Over the hard muscles of his shoulders.

No. He left me. I’m not doing this. It’s not this easy.

I jerk away, pushing him back. Shaking my head I hold up a hand between us. He looks appropriately chastised. Just the way I’d imagined he would in the fantasies I’d imagined of this moment.

“No, you left,” I say, rising. “It’s not this easy.”

He frowns and nods his head.

“You are right, of course, my pari,” he says softly.

My heart leaps at the word. It’s the pet name he gave me. I’d never heard the word before he said it, but I’d looked it up after he was gone. It meant beauty, or face of an angel, depending who you believed. It always made me feel special and damn it if it doesn’t still have the same warm tingling effect.

I back out of the bathroom knowing that if I continue standing this close to him we’ll end up in bed without further explanation. He has that effect on me. I look at him and I want him. I want to be as close to him as possible then figure out a way to be even closer.

“Come on,” I say, turning my back on him and returning to the living room. “It’s time you explain what in the hell is going on.”

He obediently follows. It’s one of the things that I always loved about him. We had such an easy switching of roles together. At times I would be the dominant one and he would meekly obey but then other times he was and I obeyed.

I pointedly sit in the single chair in the living room, leaving him the love seat. Before he left we’d always cuddle there together, but now is not the time for that. He looks from me to the loveseat with a clear look of disappointment. He purses his lips and subtly nods before taking the open seat with a grimace and a groan of pain.

“I’m not who you think I am,” he says, raising his empty hands between us then dropping them to his lap. His eyes bore into me, searching for something, understanding or forgiveness maybe.

“You think?”

A fleeting smile dances over his lips. He always loved it when I was sarcastic.

“There’s my pari,” he whispers. “I wanted to tell you. I was going to but… things happened too fast.”

“Too fast?” I ask, incredulously. “We were together for two years. How is that fast?”

He shakes his head.

“When was it the right time?” he asks. “Ads, I’m not from here.”

“The blue blood gave me a clue as to that. Are you some kind of mutant or something?”

“I’m from another world,” he says.

I blink. Then blink again. Then I laugh.

“Right,” I say, still laughing though I don’t feel amused in the slightest.

“Ads, it’s true. I am a mutant, actually, that’s why I am able to look so much like your people, but my race is called the Alva.”

“Alva, right,” I say, shaking my head. “Good story. Tell me another one.”

I’m denying his words but the scary thing is I actually think he’s telling me the truth. What else could explain what I’ve seen with my own eyes?

“Adella, it’s true,” he says. “And I think you know it.”

I blink, denial on the tip of my tongue, but the words won’t come out. I take a deep breath, hold it in, then let it out slowly.

“Right,” I nod. “So…” I trail off staring at him as pieces that never made sense fit together. His white hair. His accent that I could never quite place, subtle but definitive. The way he just showed up. “You’re an alien.”

“Yes,” he nods, glancing over at the door. “And I’m sorry this is happening this way, but we have to hurry. They have marked you.”

“What?” I exclaim. “Me? Why?”

“Because they figured out you are my pari,” he says.

“So what? You think I’m beautiful,” I say, shaking my head. “Or you did. Years ago. What of it? I’m not who I was, clearly. Look at me.”

He does and my body reacts as it always did before. Flushing with heat and desire but overlaying that is embarrassment. I’m a lot heavier than I was back then and I’ve been okay with it, until now. Yet the way he looks at me is no different. His tongue darts out and moistens his lips, the fire burns in his eyes, and I know him well enough still to know he’s feeling desire. Burning with it.

“I am,” he says, his throat husky. “And believe me, I want nothing more than to have time with you, but it’s not safe. You’re not safe.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” I counter.

“If only I was,” he says. “Pari is more than beautiful, in my language it means closer to what you would call soulmate. You are my one. The only female who I resonate with.”

“Soulmates?” I scoff, but no matter the words there is no denying the way it echoes in my heart.

“Yes,” he says, seriously. “And now they know. They will stop at nothing to take you from me.”

“Why? Who is this they?”

“We call them the Darkness,” he says. “They are another race, but Ads they’re evil. Truly, deeply, evil.”

“Why though? Why me? Why do you matter so much?”

He smiles so tightly there is no mirth to it.

“Unfortunately, I am a Prince of my people.”

“A what?” I ask, blinking.

This has to be a fantasy. I must have fallen asleep at work or I’m still in my bed. Now he’s not only an alien but also a prince? This cannot possibly be real.

“A Prince,” he says. “I’m forty-third in line for succession to the throne. Or I was, when I first met you. My galaxy is at war, has been for a long time, and my people are losing. When I left, I did so to protect you. When I became tenth in line I became a target.”

“A target?” I ask, the numbness coming back like a protective blanket. He nods, his face grim. “But… what does that mean? You left… I don’t understand.”

“When I became a target, so were you. They would use you, harm you, to get to me.”

I blink several times. This can’t be real. It’s a joke. A prank. I look around desperately looking for hidden camera men. Anyone to jump out and shout gotcha! Something like that old Punk’d show that used to be on television.

But nothing happens. We’re alone. In my living room. And his blood is blue. That’s one hell of a punking if they could figure out a way to make his blood a different color. I blink again. My thoughts are like a runaway train. I know this is true because it’s the only thing that explains everything.

“You’re serious,” I say at last.

He grimaces and nods.

“I wish…” he trails off and a look of desperation crosses his face. “Ads, you have to understand something. My people, the Alva, we only mate once. Ever. When we find the one who makes our soul sing, the one whom we resonate with, it’s forever.”

“Forever?”

My heart leaps at the thought. It’s what I had dreamed of when we were together. What I thought was going to be, us, together until the end of our lives. Growing old and gray together. I’d entertained fantasies of watching our grandkids play.

But he’s an alien.

So? Does it matter? Is he not who he was before? Do I feel any differently now than I did then? I don’t know. I think I should but then when have feelings ever truly made sense?

“Yes,” he says, sliding off the loveseat and dropping to his knees in front of me.

He takes my hand in his, staring into my eyes. I could stare into his eyes forever. They’re so beautiful as to be mesmerizing. I’ve always been a little jealous of his eyelashes. No boy should be so blessed with such long, luscious eyelashes.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, my throat so tight my voice is almost a squeak.

“There is so much I need to tell you,” he says with a slight shake of his head. “But there is no time. They are coming.”

“Jax,” I choke on his name, tears threatening.

He places one finger on my lips, stopping me from saying more. And I do not mostly because what can I say?

“An Alvan only mates once,” he says, his voice soft yet intense. His words burning into my mind. “I knew you were the one Ads. I couldn’t tell you the truth about me, not then. The luxury of time has been stolen from us and the danger is real. They know I mated with you.”

“We didn’t?—”

“For my people—” there’s a sound outside and he stops, looking over his shoulder with a frown.

An instant later children are laughing and the doorbell rings. I frown now too. My porchlight isn’t on and I don’t have any candy to hand out. Jax looks at me and arches an eyebrow, I bite my lip and shake my head.

“Kids, maybe,” I mutter.

The doorbell rings again, insistent. The metallic chime sounding louder than it ever has before. I try to stand up but he puts his hands on my legs and shakes his head.

“Wait,” he whispers.

He stands and moves towards the door. He gestures with his right hand and the sword I saw earlier appears as if by some kind of incredible sleight of hand. Or magic. He’s alien, what do I know anymore?

“It’s kids, Jax, you can’t open the door with a sword,” I say, standing up and moving behind him.

“You do not know that,” he says softly.

I grab his arm and pull him back. I give him my I’m serious look and he frowns. I push past him to the door but I’m also not going to ignore everything that’s happened tonight and throw the door wide open. I’m not an idiot afterall.

I look through the peep hole of the door. Standing on the porch are three children with their orange pumpkin buckets. They are each dressed as classic movie monsters. The only odd thing about it is that the costumes look like they came out of the seventies. I saw pictures of my Mom dressed like that. The thin, cheap plastic masks held to the face by an elastic band and the crinkly plastic outfit.

It's strange, but they’re kids. Maybe their parents are nostalgic or something. One of them reaches out and rings the doorbell again. I run a quick mental list of things I have in the kitchen that might serve as a treat and remember a box of Little Debbie cupcakes. I run to the kitchen, grab the box and see that there are exactly three left.

Jax watches as I return to the door, standing to one side of it and pressing himself to the wall. He continues to frown but is letting me do what I’m going to do, though he does look wary. There’s a tension in him that I’ve never seen before, as if he’s ready to spring into action at any second.

I open the door just as they ring the bell again. I smile broadly at the young people. It’s two boys and a little girl. One is the wolfman, one Frankenstein’s monster, and the girl is oddly the Creature from the Black Lagoon. I’m struck again by the incongruous nature of their costumes.

“Trick or Treat,” they call in unison but their voices are deep.

Much, much too deep for children. I stare, mouth dropping open as everything happens at once.

The light outside the door disappears. Blackness engulfs everything but the children themselves, whom I can still oddly see.

Jax yells something that I don’t understand. He grabs my arm and jerks me back. I stumble backwards, tripping over my own feet and falling onto my ass.

Jax’s sword crackles as it swings through the air and in that single motion all three of the things, they are no longer children but faceless blobs, are decapitated. Or sort of are. They don’t really seem to have heads anymore but the shadowy, dark part that is where their heads should be separates and falls in slow motion.

Jax slams the door shut, spins around, sees me and rushes over. He bends, scoops me up as if I weigh nothing, which I very much do not, and carries me effortlessly towards the back of my house.

“Rear door?” he asks.

“Huh?” I ask, numbly trying to process everything that has happened.

“Ads, focus, please. Exit? Rear?”

I nod and wave in the general direction of the backdoor. We’re moving so fast that the world around us blurs and the next thing I know we’re out the door and moving across my small fenced backyard.

I stare at the yellow light streaming through the open rear door of my home. Somehow I am certain that this is the last time I will ever see it.