Page 24 of The Alien in the Archive (Galactic Librarians #1)

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I can’t believe I actually convinced him to come…but he’s here.

Thorne is here, with me, in the Turitella.

He dragged his feet quite a bit—which was, frankly, expected—but I told him that we weren’t going to hang out tonight unless he agreed to come with me. So, after a couple hours talking…and maybe occasionally kissing, in his hideout, we left the Obscuary and took the lift upward.

Out of the darkness.

Into the starlight.

The tower feels like a dream in the stillness of the night; a few researchers here and there, but no one who will notice Thorne, who I’ve lent one of Riley’s hoodies. The corridors are almost silent, save for the faint hum of holograms on the walls and the soft scratch of pen on paper, pages being flipped. I glance over at Thorne, his pale features illuminated every so often by the shifting light of the holographic ocean.

He’s silent—brooding as usual—but his posture is more relaxed than normal. Maybe he doesn’t regret coming along after all .

…or maybe our psychic fuckfest left him satiated too.

Either way, I smile and nudge him lightly with my elbow. “So…what do you think? More impressive than the Obscuary?”

He scoffs. “It’s…excessive.” A slight smirk tugs at his lips. “Holographic seas? Gold and marble? And the column of water…what exactly is the point?”

I laugh. “The Merati don’t really do functional. Everything’s a statement. This wing of the library is supposed to be a tribute to their oceans, their history.”

His gaze lingers on a projection of a coral reef, alien fish darting in and out of their own natural palace. “They’ve always been a bit uppity.”

I snort, shaking my head. “Come on,” I say. “There’s something I want to show you.”

He follows me, his steps echoing against the marble floors. As we turn a corner, the hallway opens up into the atrium, the ceiling casting ripple-like light across the floor. Thalara told me that the spiral staircase to the bell tower would be tucked away behind the help desk—open to the public, but reserved for those who knew where to look.

“This way,” I say.

Thorne takes my hand as I lead him through a gilded door, where a spiral mother-of-pearl staircase climbs up, up, up. We take it slowly, narrow windows giving us the occasional peek out at the sea or the sprawling library.

“This doesn’t feel like an easy spot to escape from, unless you’re planning on flying us both out,” Thorne mutters.

I roll my eyes. “We’re not going to have to escape, Thorne.”

“Spoken like a non-fugitive.”

“Calm down,” I press. “And…sure, if we need to escape, I’ll fly us both down. I’m sure that wouldn’t get us both killed. ”

He doesn’t respond.

Thanks for the vote of confidence , I think, only to realize he heard it anyway.

He just glances at me from the corner of his eye, smirking.

Asshole .

There’s a light at the top of the staircase, and above that, a collection of coral bells. I’ve heard the bells sometimes at dawn and dusk; they don’t ring on the hour like they would at home. Still now, M’mir’s twin moons gleam off the side, illuminating a passage to what looks like thin air.

“That must be it,” I whisper.

Thorne scoffs. “You really are about to get us killed, aren’t you?”

I ignore him and pull him forward, and soon we’re stepping out onto the balcony, the cool night air brushing against my face. The view…it’s even better than Thalara described. Off to our right, Mythara stretches out to the mountains; to our left, the Grand Library; and straight ahead, the Nautilum is more visible under the waves than I’ve ever seen before. Along the coast, a bullet train zips in a stream of bright light along the tracks, heading to some other library on some other part of the planet—maybe the Arborium, the Eiskammer…all places I would love to explore one day.

“Wow,” I breathe.

Thorne squeezes my hand. “Hm…it’s not so bad.”

We move forward, where there is—as Lyn promised—a very sturdy, high railing. I lean against it, watching the light play across the water. Thorne leans against it as well, our elbows touching.

“This is…” he trails off.

“I know,” I agree.

For a while, neither of us speaks. Yrsa’s Cradle is overhead, reflecting in such a way that I think, if I looked close enough, I would see the face of the Skoll goddess herself. It makes me look up at the stars rather than into the ocean, at the glimmering moons and countless planets.

“I want to see it all,” I say, finally breaking the silence.

Thorne looks over at me, brow furrowed.

“The galaxy,” I clarify, turning to face him. “The stars, the planets…all of it. I don’t want to stay trapped in one place forever.”

He huffs. “You sound like a child dreaming of fairy tales,” he says…but it isn’t mean, not really. It sounds more like he admires that perspective, and like he’ll never find it again for himself.

“You could come with me,” I add, keeping my eyes on him.

Thorne looks at me, silver irises brighter than ever in those dark sclerae. I realize with a start that he’s anxious; I can feel the raw current of tension in his mind, buzzing.

“You know this is the first time I’ve seen the sky in decades,” he says. “And even this…leaving the Obscuary. It’s a stretch.”

“So, is that a no?” I ask.

Thorne looks back at the stars, then he extends his hand and takes mine, smiling.

“It’s a maybe,” he says.

I snort. “Maybe? That’s it? Not exactly a ringing endorsement, Thorne.”

He turns me to face him, threading his fingers through mine. “You need to learn to be satisfied with the answers you get, Page,” he murmurs.

I cock my head. “You should know that’s not in my nature.”

When he kisses me—like all the other times he’s kissed me—it takes my breath away. It’s slow, tender…annoyingly so . Thorne takes command of the kiss, releasing one of my hands to hold my chin in place as he kisses me at the agonizing pace he desires.

His tongue glides across my lips; I open for him, welcoming him in. He pulls me just slightly closer, though it’s not enough…never enough.

We pull away from each other; he keeps it annoyingly chaste. Thorne gazes into my eyes.

“I hope maybe is enough for now,” he says quietly, no hint of sarcasm in those words.

I smile. “It is. But…”

I pull away from him, holding up my finger in anticipation as I go for my bag. I open it up and find the empty notebook I placed there earlier—a simple leather journal that’s been lying around in my house since I arrived. I hold it out to him, watching as his expression shifts to confusion.

“What is this?” he asks, taking it.

“Well, it’s a notebook?—”

“Obviously,” he mutters. “But I have notebooks?—”

“It’s for a specific purpose,” I interject. “You said your people erased their history. Maybe it’s time someone started writing it again.”

He looks at the journal, then at me. For a minute, I think he’s going to refuse; he’s been conflicted about telling that story, even to me.

But then he nods, slipping it into the pocket of his hoodie.

“Thank you,” he says, then he takes my hands again, pulling me in close. “Page…about last night…”

I blush, remembering what I did. It was basically psychic sexting, with all the messy parts included. “I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I was pretty drunk.”

He tilts my chin up again, gazes into my eyes. “It felt good,” he says. “And I want you to know I want nothing more than to take you back with me tonight and do exactly what we did in that fantasy.”

My breath quickens. I take another step toward him, reaching out to curl my fingers in the fabric of his hoodie. “I want?—”

“But that’s why we need to exercise caution,” he interrupts. “Page…for any species that doesn’t experience telepathy, it takes time to build to this kind of intimacy. But with us…”

He smooths his hand over my cheek. I lean into it, eyelashes fluttering as I close my eyes and remember: his touch, the way he saw me, the things he said…

He makes a rough sound low in his throat. “You’re doing it now,” he says. “And I need you—we both need to be careful with each other. Already, you know me better than anyone has in well over a thousand years. Maybe longer.”

My breath shudders at the realization of what that means. Even before he came to the library, before he turned against the Empire…I’m the closest?

“I understand.” I turn my head to kiss his palm. “So…we wait. I go home tonight. I desperately try not to have any more sex dreams. And then…?”

He’s smiling when I look at him again, devastatingly handsome. “We meet again tomorrow,” he says. “Evaluate, again, if this is real. And then…maybe.”

He really loves the word ‘maybe’—and it seems that’s all I’m getting tonight.

I let out a shaky laugh. “You know, you’re frustratingly good at being mysterious. Can’t you just give a straight answer for once?”

Thorne chuckles, a low, rich sound that makes my chest ache. “If I gave you straight answers all the time, you’d get bored of me. ”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’d have to try a lot harder than that for me to lose interest.”

He looks like he’s about to respond, then we hear voices down the staircase. They’re not coming up, but they might…which means it’s time for us to go.

“Shall we?” he asks, extending his hand.

“We shall,” I smile, taking it.