Page 20 of The Alien in the Archive (Galactic Librarians #1)

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T he air between us practically crackles as we pull apart, our breaths heavy and ragged. Thorne’s hands fall to my hips again, his forehead against mine. He won’t meet my eyes for a moment, but then he looks…

…and that psychic connection comes rushing back.

All of the things he’s felt, how much he’s longed for me?—

“Come with me,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. He steps back, reluctantly letting go of me, but takes my hand in his cool grip. His thumb draws a soothing circle over my knuckles, something he’s done countless times…but I don’t think he realized how much it meant.

“Okay,” I nod.

He leads me from the main room of the alcove, then he pulls aside a tapestry and takes me past it. Inside, there’s a mismatched collection of pillows and blankets strewn over a large sofa. Books are everywhere—piled beside the sofa, shelved on ancient stacks.

I realize with a start that this is his bedroom .

“Thorne,” I say. “I thought you said…I thought you wanted to take it slow.”

He frowns. “I do.”

“Well,” I laugh awkwardly. “I’m not sure what it means in your language, but on Earth, when someone takes someone they just kissed the hell out of to their bedroom, it usually means they want to have sex.”

He chuckles low in his throat, pulling me into his arms. “I just want to hold you, Page,” he murmurs. “Is that too much to ask?”

I don’t answer, unable to stop looking at him as he pulls me along with him. Thorne sinks down onto the couch, long legs sprawling out, and gestures for me to join him. I hesitate for only a moment before settling into his lap, leaning against his chest.

Even this is enough to drive me wild. I want him so fucking badly.

And now that I’ve admitted it…I know I’ve wanted him since the first time we ever spoke.

“Now,” he says, his lips brushing the crown of my head. “Tell me. What’s been going on? Why have you been keeping me out?”

“You already know,” I whisper. “I’m trying to help you.”

“And what does that mean, exactly?” His voice is low, deep. I can feel its resonance against my shoulders, through his chest. “You’ve been distant. So where have you been?”

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “I went to the Turitella,” I begin. I look back to see his brow arch slightly in recognition, but he says nothing, so I continue. “I spoke to a friend who studies Merati noble lines. She helped me dig into the records on Elixir ceremonies. I wanted to see if there was a way— any way—to get you out of the Obscuary. To…extend your life without you needing to…” I trail off, unable to finish the thought aloud .

“Without me needing to feed,” he finishes for me.

I nod, my throat tightening. “Yes.”

He looks away for a moment, his gaze distant. “And what did you find?”

“Not much,” I admit. “But enough to know there’s something to the ceremonies. A way to share lifespans, to align them. And I wasn't sure…I didn't know if you would want that. To be stuck with me.”

His breath leaves him in a rush and he tilts my chin up towards him.

“Page,” he says. “I could spend an eternity talking with you.”

That sends me spiraling all over again, and I close my eyes, begging for a kiss…

“But that's not the whole story, is it?”

I groan. “ Fine. Anyway…then it occurred to me that maybe things had gotten so strange between us because we’d accidentally Elixir bonded, but I didn’t think it was enough to save you….and I wasn’t sure if Boreans even did this, or if Elixir works differently for your kind.”

Thorne leans back against the loveseat, his expression unreadable. “The Boreans didn’t…bond the way others did. Elixir was a necessity for us, yes, but not in the way you imagine. There were no ceremonies. No rituals. It was survival, plain and simple.” He pauses, his jaw tightening. “And destruction.”

I glance at him, frowning. “Destruction?”

His gaze darkens. “We were conquerors, Page. Colonizers. We took what we wanted, drained entire planets of their resources, destroyed ecosystems. Billions of lives were lost because of us. That’s the legacy of the Boreans—and its why Elixir is so heavily regulated now, to prevent anyone from abusing it. ”

The weight of his words settles over me, heavy and suffocating. “But you’re not like the rest of the Boreans,” I say quietly. “You’re not…you’re not a conqueror.”

“Aren’t I?” he asks, his voice bitter. “I’ve killed, Page. More than you can imagine. I’m not some noble scholar sitting here to impart wisdom—I’m a relic of a brutal empire. And yet, here you are, trying to save me. Why?”

“Because I see you.” I shift sideways so I can keep my gaze on him. “I see the way you care, the way you treat Ashlan, the way you…” I falter, searching for the right words. “You’re more than what they were, Thorne. You’ve changed. You’re still changing.”

He studies me for a long moment, as if searching for some hidden truth in my face. Finally, he lets out a heavy sigh,. “You shouldn’t feel this way about me.”

“I can’t help it,” I whisper, reaching out to touch his hand.

His fingers twitch under mine, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he turns his hand over, letting me lace my fingers with his. The chill of his skin sends a shiver through me, but I don’t let go.

And there’s this thought…and I can’t place it. It comes unbidden, like the need to breathe.

Mine .

I turn in his arms, moving to straddle his long legs. I can feel him, still hard, but he doesn't touch me.

“Page…” he murmurs, a note of warning in his voice.

But I lean in and kiss him, slow and careful.

And he kisses me back.

His hands are on me again, taking mine, winding our fingers around each other as if he’s hanging on so he doesn’t lose control. He’s careful, restrained, but no less intense. The kiss moves through me, ricocheting through my system.

“We need to take this slow,” he says when we pause, his voice tight with restraint. “If I lose control, Page…” He trails off, his grip tightening. His gaze is heavy, searching, and I can feel his fear beneath the desire. “I need to be sure. Not just of you, but of me. Of what I might do.”

I shift in his lap, my lips brushing the edge of his jaw. “I am sure,” I whisper, my voice steady despite the way my heart races. “How can I convince you to be?”

His breath hitches, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. I can feel his thoughts churning, a storm of guilt and desire. “I don’t know,” he admits finally, his voice raw.

“Okay…so we explore, take our time. I get that,” I breathe. “But this is slow enough, isn’t it?”

He smirks. “You’re too stubborn for your own good, Page McRae.”

But he kisses me again, this time slower, more deliberate. His lips are cold, but the intensity of the kiss is enough to set me on fire. Thorne’s hands remain steady, holding mine, and it’s almost maddening how controlled he is. I can feel the tension in him, the way he’s holding himself back—I can hear it in his mind—and it makes me want to push him.

“Slow,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice a growl that sends shivers down my spine. “We take this slow.”

I keep moving languidly, disentangling our fingers, reaching for his chest, running my hands slowly down his stomach. Thorne hisses out a breath as I grip the hem of his ragged shirt and pull it up, revealing taut pale skin.

“Page,” he warns.

And that's when I let him look again.

All the fantasies of him that I've had from the beginning…straddling him, riding him, moaning his name. My hands are under his shirt, touching his chest, and I'm picturing…

His hand presses to my back, the other pulling me toward him by the back of my head. “That isn't fair,” he chuckles, hard as a rock between my thighs .

“Lean into it,” I breathe. “Dream.”

I keep rocking against him as I assail him with a barrage of images—his tongue between my legs, me bent over in the reading nook, Thorne reading to me while I suck his cock. I indulge every filthy thought and bring him along for the ride, my pace increasing.

We're both fully clothed, but it feels like sex.

My breath picks up, I rock faster against him. Thorne holds me tight, growling into my ear. “Page…” he rasps.

“I'm coming,” I tell him. “Oh God, I?—”

His release seems to follow mine, triggered by his psychic connection to me, and it's like I feel his orgasm as I come. His long fingers are tangled in my hair, his other hand on my ass.

I know we've made a mess of ourselves, but I don't care. That was the best orgasm I've ever had…and we were both fully dressed.

But he wanted it slow…and he holds to that as he pulls away and plants a lazy, sloppy kiss to my lips. I let the kiss linger, our tongues dancing together until we pull apart again.

“I want to stay the night,” I whisper, looking into his eyes. “But you're not going to let me, are you?”

He smirks. “It would raise too much suspicion…” He rocks his hips, squeezes my ass. “And I wouldn't be able to stop myself from fucking you.”

I feel like I'm going to melt into a puddle. “But?—”

He holds my face in his hands. “Go, Page,” he says. “Rest. We'll be together again soon, but…give it a day, please. To make sure you’re sure.”

“I promise?—”

“Page,” he interrupts, chastising me again. “Give it time. I’m not going to die tomorrow.”

I stand, feeling lightheaded. Thorne hasn’t let go of my hand. He keeps his grip on me as we walk back through the alcove to the bookcase. Then, when I turn around outside, he leans down and kisses me.

“Sweet dreams, Page,” he murmurs.

I give him a devious smile.

Oh…they will be.