Page 17 of The Alien in the Archive (Galactic Librarians #1)

17

THORNE

I didn’t expect her to come back.

After last night, I thought she’d need time—time to process, to question, to doubt. Page is a smart girl, and she should be doubting me; I’ve given her every reason to.

And yet, here she is—at the same time as usual, when most researchers would leave the Obscuary for the day.

I don’t sense her before she arrives, so it takes me by surprise when I hear the bookcase opening, the mechanisms grinding to let Page in. She appears on the other side as if nothing happened yesterday, wearing a pair of plain grey slacks and a colorful knit sweater, her messenger bag slung over her shoulder. I frown up at her, nearly dropping my book, while Ashlan makes his way over to purr around her ankles.

“Page,” I say. “What are you doing here?”

She raises an eyebrow, stepping further into the alcove and letting the bag slide from her shoulder. “We’re working, right?”

I get up, walking carefully toward her. I don’t want to get too close—I don’t fully trust myself around her—but I can’t resist. “I thought you might need space,” I hedge, unsure how to approach her.

“Why?” she asks, tilting her head. “Because you drank my blood?”

I flinch. She doesn’t even try to tip-toe around it.

“You should be angry,” I mutter. “And afraid.”

“I’m not,” she says simply. “And I don’t see the point in wasting time. My powers aren’t going to wait for us to figure things out, and neither will my research. So…are you going to help me or not?”

There’s no hesitation in her voice, no trace of fear. If anything, she’s more resolute than ever. It’s…incredibly alluring.

Mine .

I try to shake off the thought.

“Fine,” I say. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” she replies, eyes narrowing slightly as if daring me to argue.

I’m not even going to try to argue—because I know I’ll lose, and because I want her here, even if I know it’s wrong.

“Well…let’s get out of here,” I mutter. “It’s too cluttered in this space; I want more cushioning around you if you’re going to try this.”

“Try what?” she asks, her expression brightening. “You have a lesson plan?”

I snort. “Not exactly, but…I thought it might be fun to try flying.”

She coughs, gaping at me. “Excuse me? That feels like a bit of a leap from making a glass float.”

I shrug. “What better way to practice discipline than applying your power to your own body?”

Page gives me a suspicious glance. “I think you’ve lost your mind.”

I smirk, turning toward the deeper recesses of the Obscuary. “Says the woman who walked in here like nothing happened last night.”

She follows, her footsteps light but quick behind me. “Touché. So, where are we doing this little experiment? Or are we just hovering over stacks of books?”

I glance over my shoulder. “The reading nook. Plenty of space, lots of pillows, minimal risk of breaking your neck.”

“How comforting,” she mutters, though I catch the faintest hint of a smile.

The reading nook isn’t far, tucked away through a narrow gap between bookshelves. It’s become something of a sanctuary for both of us—quiet, secluded, and uniquely ours. Cushions are scattered around the low central table, papers strewn across it from the last time we were here. It occurs to me then that if she’d chosen not to return, it would have hurt to come back here without her.

I’m so, so glad she’s here.

Page looks over the cushions and the table, her jaw tense. “You really think I’m ready for this?”

“I think,” I say, pulling a large cushion away from the table, trying to build a nest where she can practice, “that you need to test your limits. And this is a controlled environment where I can intervene if necessary.”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Right. ‘Intervene.’ Is that code for ‘watch me make a fool of myself’?”

“Only if you’re lucky,” I reply dryly, earning a huff of laughter from her.

We get to work moving the cushions away from the table, toward an empty space. It isn’t that roomy here—no reading nook should be—but it’s large enough that she should be able to practice safely. Page sits cross-legged on one of the cushions, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Alright, teach. What’s step one? ”

“Step one,” I say, sitting across from her, “is focus. Clear your mind of everything else. No distractions, no doubts. Just you and the energy around you.”

She closes her eyes, her hands resting lightly on her knees. Her breathing slows, and I can feel the subtle ripple of her energy as she begins to center herself.

Her mind reaches out to mine and I get a glimpse of her thoughts…

I try to block it out.

She’s thinking about my lips against her skin.

“Good,” I murmur, my voice betraying where my thoughts have gone with a low rumble. “Now, instead of directing your energy outward, turn it inward. Picture yourself lifting; light as air, free of gravity’s pull.”

Her brow furrows slightly, but she doesn’t open her eyes. I watch as the energy around her shifts, growing more concentrated. For a moment, nothing happens—then her body lifts a few inches off the cushion.

Her eyes snap open, and the moment breaks. She drops back onto the cushion with a soft thud and a grunt.

“Oh my God!” she breathes, her face lighting up. “Did you see that? I actually floated!”

I can’t help but smile. “Yes, you did. Not bad for a first try.”

“Not bad?” she repeats, her grin widening. “That was amazing! I didn’t think I could actually do it.”

“You can do more than you realize,” I say.

Her gaze lingers on mine, and for a moment, the air between us feels charged. I clear my throat, breaking the tension. “Try again.”

Page nods, eager now that she’s done it once. She closes her eyes, but then she opens them again, twisting her mouth into a smile I’m certain means trouble.

“What if… ”

She stands up, walking over to the table. It’s only a couple feet off the ground, but it still makes my pulse pound as she steps onto it.

“What are you doing?” I ask, rising to follow her.

“I’m going to try to jump off,” she says. “It’ll be fine.”

“This is foolish,” I start. “Page?—”

But she’s already closing her eyes…and this time, her energy feels steadier, more deliberate. Slowly, she takes a step forward, then another?—

And she’s in the air.

Hovering.

It makes me remember doing this with other scholars in the Magisterium, a long time ago. Experimenting with what Elixir consumption could do, before we knew how far we would go to hang onto that power.

“Am I doing it?” Page asks. Her eyelashes flicker. “I think—oh shit!”

Once she begins to overthink it, she falters; then she’s tilting forward, like just one foot has forgotten how to fly. She rocks toward me, putting her hands out to shield herself from the blow?—

I move without thinking, catching her before she hits the ground. My arms wrap around her instinctively, pulling her close as her breath hitches.

Her hands are on my shoulders, clinging to me.

She’s so, so warm.

“I told you that was a stupid idea,” I mutter, desperate to say something…anything. My hands are moving over her back despite myself, because I need to make sure she’s okay. “You promised me you’d try not to fall again. That you’d be careful.”

Her wide, silver-grey eyes meet mine, her face just inches away. “You said you’d intervene if necessary,” she replies, already back to being stubborn and bold .

“I did,” my grip on her tightens for just a moment before I force myself to loosen it, “but I can’t always be here to catch you, Page.”

Her smile falters. I think back to how she reacted when I told her that yes, I would die in a few years…and I can see the pain, the fear.

Then her gaze flickers to my lips, and for a heartbeat, I’m certain she’s going to close the distance.

I shouldn’t.

I can’t.

But her warmth, her scent, the pull of her mind against mine…it’s all too much.

“Thorne,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

I lean in, just enough to feel her breath against my skin. My hand lingers at her waist, my thumb brushing against the soft fabric of her sweater.

And then, somehow, I find the strength to pull back.

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” I murmur. “You should get home.”

We make the walk back toward the gate in silence, the two of us side by side. Ashlan trots ahead, sometimes disappearing into the shelves and emerging again.

I clear my throat.

“Page,” I murmur. “The psychic connection we have…it can make you feel things that aren’t real. You know that, right?”

She doesn’t say anything. I look over at her to see that her mouth is pressed into a thin line, her brow furrowed.

So I keep talking, because we’re almost to where I’ll branch off to return to my hiding place, while she’ll go back to her life…and I don’t want to leave it like this.

“Last night was an anomaly,” I go on. “My instinct to touch you…it wasn’t right. We have a deal. ”

“Mmhm,” she says, still looking angry. Her eyes are fixed ahead of her, unblinking.

I sigh as we stop walking, our usual parting point just ahead. “Page,” I start, trying to find the right words. “I don’t think you understand?—”

She moves so fast, I don’t even have time to finish the sentence.

Her hand slides into mine, her fingers wrapping around my wrist as she steps in front of me, her proximity catching me entirely off guard. Before I can react, she’s standing on her toes, moving so close?—

Her lips are on mine.

Chaste…but insistent.

For a moment, my body forgets how to move.

Her lips are warm, and so much softer than I could have imagined. Her lashes flutter against her cheeks, her eyes closed. Maybe I should close mine too; a distant memory tells me that’s what you’re supposed to do when kissing someone.

But I can’t look away.

The faint freckles on her nose, the blush on her cheeks…I could look at her for hours.

Her eyes open, and I see a flicker of fear beneath the boldness.

“Thorne,” she whispers. “Please kiss me back.”

And the voice that’s growing ever more insistent growls, Mine .

I don’t think. I don’t hesitate. My hand moves to her face, my palm cradling her cheek as I tilt her head up to meet mine fully. My other hand finds the small of her back, pulling her flush against me.

Gods, she feels so good, too good.

Page gasps softly, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt .

I do as she asked.

Her lips part, and her breath hitches—a sound that fills me like fire, warming my cold heart. I don’t let her take the lead, though; she would move faster than I want, faster than she deserves. I keep it slow, deliberate, savoring every moment. Her mouth moves against mine, eager and insistent, but I resist the urge to deepen the kiss too quickly. If I give in, I’ll lose what little control I have left.

She makes a sound—soft, needy, almost obscene—and it undoes me.

My thumb brushes her jaw as I angle her closer, her warmth sinking into me. She tugs on my shirt, her desperation for more pulling me deeper into her orbit.

I force myself to stop, gasping for breath.

Her lips are slightly swollen, eyes more silver than ever, her cheeks flushed with color. The thought feels alien when it comes to mind, but I can’t deny it—she needs to be fucked, claimed.

I take a step back.

Page looks a little disappointed at first…but then she flushes bright red, and she smiles . This is a new kind of smile—shy, sweet—and I caused it.

My skin…it’s warm.

Warm for the first time in centuries.

“Good night, Page,” I murmur.

She bites her lip, and it almost makes me pull her back in. “Good night, Thorne.”

The smile lingers as she backs away, and I keep my eyes on her as she goes. She doesn’t stop smiling, even when she turns and walks into the archive proper, toward the gate.

I watch until she’s well out of sight, my chest tightening with every step she takes.

Because one thing is certain: Page isn’t the only one who’s fallen.