Page 26 of The Alien in the Archive (Galactic Librarians #1)

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W alking into the Obscuary today is somehow more anxiety-inducing than when I lost my virginity.

I am, of course, not a virgin. I’m twenty-five years old, and I’ve done my fair share of sleeping around. But I’ve been waiting for this for what feels like forever, and it’s stupid…but sex with anyone but Thorne doesn’t seem all that special anymore.

And I have to spend a whole day trying to focus on my research.

By the time dusk sets in and I start toward his hideaway, I’m wound up tight, every inch of me aching for him, needing him. I’m sure he can feel me, and that somehow makes it worse, the ache between my thighs enough to kill me. The alcove’s secret entrance is already open, Ashlan sitting in my path, tail twitching.

He chirps at me as I get closer, and I kneel to scratch him behind the ears, avoiding his soft antennae.

“Hey Ashlan,” I whisper. “Keeping an eye on your grumpy roommate for me? ”

“He doesn’t need an eye kept on him,” Thorne’s voice echoes softly from inside.

I straighten, my heart doing that stupid fluttery thing it does every time he speaks. When I step into the alcove, the familiar scent of parchment and dust and Thorne fill my lungs.

I breathe him in. Try to get a handle on myself.

Thorne is sitting in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, a notebook resting on his knee. His long white hair is slightly tousled and swept to one side, like he’s been running his hands through it, and his onyx eyes meet mine with an intensity that tells me he knows exactly what I’ve been thinking about all day.

“You got here faster than usual,” he says, lips twitching into a smirk. “Impatient to see me?”

“Maybe,” I admit, crossing my arms. “Or maybe I just didn’t have anything better to do.”

He chuckles low in his throat. “Well, you’re here now. Sit.”

I raise an eyebrow and go to sit on the usual couch, but he stops me, raising his hand. “Not there,” he says.

Then…by God, he pats his knee .

I melt.

I take a harsh breath as I step toward him, my dreams becoming reality right fucking now. He opens his arms and I straddle him, knees on either side of his hips.

I’m already so fucking wet.

“I know,” he says, reading my thoughts. “My understanding is this can be offensive to humans…but I can smell it, your arousal.”

“Oh…fuck,” I breathe, adjusting myself in his lap. I somehow manage to settle and rest my hands against his chest, finally looking up at him. “So, fancy meeting you here.”

He smirks, one sharp canine pressing into his lower lip. I melt a little more .

But he doesn’t touch me; instead, he reaches over to a stack of books beside him, producing the notebook I gave him last night. He holds it out to me and I take it carefully, opening it up in the small space between us.

My breath catches.

The script is beautiful, flowing lines and intricate curves that seem almost alive on the page. I recognize a few characters, but I’m still horrible at reading Borean. Even so, I can tell this was all inscribed in Thorne’s own hand.

“This is…” I start, running my fingers over the characters etched into the paper. “Thorne, it’s beautiful, but I was hoping you’d write your chronicle in a language I could read.”

“You will,” he says. “One day.”

“But learning Borean can take years.”

He takes my face in his hands, locking eyes with me. “It will.”

The weight of his words settles over me, and I realize what he’s saying. This isn’t just about the notebook, or the chronicle.

It’s about us—because he’s made a decision that he wants to live.

And he wants to live with me .

“Thorne,” I whisper, clutching the notebook to my chest. “Thank you. I don’t…I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs. “But I hope that’s more of an answer than the ‘maybe’ you got last night.”

I lean in and kiss him, the notebook still held delicately between us. His hands slide into my hair, relishing the moment, the taste…

But I can’t stop thinking about that.

About years .

I pull back, and Thorne can already tell I’m troubled when I twist my face into a frown. “Thorne,” I murmur. “You said…you said you had years, at most, if you didn’t drink Elixir.”

He sobers. Shrugs. “I’m really not sure.”

“But if you drink my blood…it would add just a little, right? A stopgap until we can find a more permanent solution.”

“Page, you don’t have to?—”

“I want to,” I interrupt, pressing my finger to his lips. It sends a full-body shiver through me, reminding me of that night—the night everything changed. “Please, Thorne. It’s…it’s for me, really. Just to set my mind at ease.”

He reaches out and touches my consciousness, like he’s looking for validation that I’m not lying.

Then he nods. “Okay.”

I tremble, though it’s more from anticipation than anything else. I look around, searching for something sharp, but I don’t see anything. “I’m not sure…don’t know how to cut myself?—”

“You don’t have to,” Thorne says. “My people…we used to bite our lovers.” He bares his teeth slightly. “I’m sure you noticed the fangs.”

I laugh, the sound brittle. “A little.”

His eyes move from my eyes to my lips…then lower, to my black button-up.

“May I undress you, Page?” he asks quietly.

Is that even a question?

“Please,” I whine.

He laughs, a low rumble in his chest…then he’s raising his hands to the top button, opening it too slowly. Everything is so slow with him…and I feel the anticipation with every button, every inch of skin he reveals. When he gets to the lace edge of my bra, he runs his fingers over it, eyes coming up to mine.

“This is pretty,” he says. His voice is lower than usual, hoarse. I can feel his cock getting harder, pressing against the apex of my thighs through our clothes. I’ve never wanted to have sex with someone so badly.

“I thought I’d dress up a little,” I whisper.

The corner of his mouth lifts. “You wanted this to happen.”

“I didn’t think it was a secret.”

He continues with the buttons, but now his lips are on my breasts, above the line of my bra. Lips…tongue. Every so often, the slightest graze of his teeth, which I realize now are, in fact, quite sharp. When he opens my shirt completely, he pushes it off of my shoulders, then he cups my breasts in his cool hands and I gasp.

“Last night, when I imagined this,” he groans against my skin, his hips just barely rocking up toward me. “I didn’t truly understand how warm you’d be.”

I reach up to brace myself on his shoulders, unable to do much else.

“Is it just me, or are you getting warmer, too?” I ask.

“It’s not just you,” he growls. He keeps pressing those soft, slow kisses to my breasts—not going further, but doing enough that I’m ready to beg him for more.

“Uh…Thorne?” I ask. “Where exactly were you planning on biting me…?”

He drags his fingers down my left arm, straightening it. Blue veins stand out from my pale skin, and he glances up at me as he points. “Here,” he says. “Just a small cut…just a taste.”

“Okay,” I say. “Just warn me before you?—”

It’s too late.

He’s already leaning in and dragging one of those surprisingly sharp canines across my arm, close to the elbow.

It stings for only a moment, then his warm, wet mouth is covering the wound, and I feel the gentle pull of him drinking.

My mind seems to fly into his, experiencing the sensation of drinking at the same time as being consumed. Thorne lets me feel what he feels: the warmth of me, the gratitude, the quiet desperation he’s tried so hard to hide.

His other hand finds my breast, greedily frees my nipple from the cup of my bra, twists just like I like it.

“Oh God,” I gasp. “Oh fuck…”

I’m shaking with desire, still hanging onto his shoulder with my free hand. My breathing is shallow, uneven, the sensation like I’m no longer fully in my body but tethered to him.

“Thorne,” I moan, rocking against him. “Thorne, Thorne?—”

I gasp in surprise when he releases my arm, leaving only a pinprick in his wake…then he’s picking me up, my arms and legs wrapping around him instinctively. I pray that he’s taking me to bed, but he walks us forward, kissing me, and I find my ass back on the desk, books brushed aside. I’m scrambling to undress him as soon as I find purchase on the table’s surface, but he’s faster.

“Can I take these off?” he asks, his hands already on the button of my jeans.

“Yes, but please, Thorne, I need you to…damn it?—”

He’s not listening, not even a little bit; or maybe he is, but he’s hearing my thoughts, my need to feel him, my desperation to come . He practically strips my jeans off me, my panties, and he doesn’t even care to look at me before he lays me out on the desk.

“Thorne, what are you—” I grip his hair, forcing him to look at me. “Thorne! Listen to…”

I trail off, unable to speak with how he’s staring at me…lo oking at me from between my legs. His eyes are more silver than usual, just a hint of sparkling red blood smeared across his lips…and he’s seeing me for the first time, naked and needy and more than ready for him.

“I told you I would lick you,” he growls. He presses the flat of his tongue to my inner thigh, licks a line up to my pussy. “Taste you…suck on your clit and beg you to come. And that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Holy fuck,” I whisper.

That’s all I get out before he’s dragging my hips off the table, into his hungry mouth. I jolt at the way he ravishes me, knowing exactly how I like to be touched.

Because of course he does. He’s been in my head while I touched myself.

And he’s in my head now, too.

Feeling what he’s doing to me as he does it…exploring me, finding the things that feel best. It’s like I’m wrapped in an existential embrace, his hands bracing my thighs around his head, his heart beating alongside mine.

“Oh my God!” I shout, screaming in a library, not giving a damn.

“You gave yourself five orgasms that night,” Thorne says, lashing me with his tongue, eyes on me again. “Do you think I can drag more out of you now?”

I think the answer might be yes—because those words alone have me barreling into my first climax, scratching at the table. “Fuck!”

He groans into me, the vibration crawling all the way from my clit up my spine, making my scalp tingle. “That’s one,” he says. “We’re just getting started.” His hands tighten as he continues his relentless pursuit, each movement building.

I can feel it; the hunger in him, the need to consume me completely, in every way possible. My heart races along with his, pounding at a steady beat.

“Oh God…” I pant, grabbing for something, anything. I swipe a book off the table, sending it flying, and then—again, it’s happening, it’s happening…

“Two…” he rumbles.

I want him buried inside me; I want his cock so fucking badly. If I could force my mouth to form words, I would demand he fuck me right fucking now, but as it is, all I can do is moan. I let out a string of nonsensical syllables, unable to do much else. And I guess he senses what I want yet again?—

Because he doesn’t give me his cock, but he does offer his fingers.

Two long digits press inside me, gliding into my pussy to the knuckle. I arch, my hips lifting off the table as Thorne curls his fingers up and finds my g-spot.

“Jesus,” I bite out, because there I go again, out of control. This is already more orgasms than I’ve ever had with a man, because he knows me so fucking intimately.

“Three,” he gasps. “And…let’s see. Another one, right away?”

He presses my g-spot again and I’m thrusting my hips helplessly. I’m starting to wonder if he really is a mad scientist, because this is some truly maniacal shit. “Thorne, I’m…” I buck, writhe, “...sensitive…”

“Two more, beloved,” he says, and the pet name barely registers, but I file it away for later. “I need this from you. I need…”

He adds another finger, then he starts to piston them in and out of me with startling dexterity. My eyes go wide, and Thorne moves to lean over me, looking down at me. He’s so fucking beautiful, so, so perfect …

“You too,” he rasps, smiling slightly. His thumb finds my clit, moving side to side as he continues pumping his fingers into me. “Two more, Page.”

He ducks his head, drags my bra off my shoulder with his teeth…then his lips are wrapping around my nipple as he fucks me with his fingers. And he’s remembering what I like, how I like to be touched?—

I shudder and clamp around his fingers, meeting his request for at least one more. “Please,” I whisper. “Please…”

All of a sudden, our minds are entangled again, and this time he’s projecting an image into mine…an image so profane it startles me. Me on all fours in my bed in Mythara Village, Thorne’s cock buried inside me. He's got a hold of my hair, his hips slapping against my ass. The future, or a fantasy…I don’t care.

It’s enough to drive me over the edge, writhing and screaming.

He closes his mouth over mine and kisses me hard as I squeeze my eyes shut and ride out that sixth orgasm, his fingers still pumping into me, thumb playing with my clit. My cries mingle with the profane, wet sound of his fingers going in and out of me, and I’m boneless, weightless…

He pulls his fingers out, keeps kissing me. The kiss slows down…his hair falls in a curtain around us. When he stops kissing me, I open my eyes and search for his, only to find him looking around.

“Page,” he murmurs, eyes flicking upward. “Look.”

I look up, tilting my head back…and I see the books. They’re floating , a library in the air, pages spread open…

The moment freezes.

Then each and every book drops with a sudden, startling thud.

Thorne pulls back slightly, his breath brushing over my lips as his onyx eyes flicker between surprise and satisfaction. I’m still dazed, trembling beneath him, my body and mind reeling from what we’ve just done–what he’s just done to me.

“Was that…you?” I whisper, glancing at the books scattered around us like fallen leaves.

Thorne stands up, looking around. His alabaster hair is disheveled, and his shirt hangs loosely, exposing his collarbone. He looks like some wild, ancient god, glorious and profane.

“I haven’t been capable of telekinesis in well over a hundred years,” he says. “That was you, Page.”

And that makes me feel like a god, too.

Beloved .

As the novelty of the floating books wears off, I suddenly remember that Thorne is still fully dressed and I’m stripped bare and spread out. I sit up, my head swimming at the change in position, but Thorne reaches for me, stepping between my legs and taking my hands in his. He looks me over, eyes still so, so hungry.

“So now you’re going to…” I start, but he stops me.

“Patience,” he’s using my full name more than a little intentionally, “I’m not going to fuck you tonight.”

“Goddamn it, Thorne…” I groan.

“But,” he cuts me off, “this is the last time.”

I frown. “And what exactly does that mean?”

He slides his hands down my sides, to my hips, pulls me against him to feel his hardness, like he did before—days or weeks ago…I can’t even remember. I suck in a breath at the press of him against my sensitive clit.

“This is the last time you’ll leave this room without being well and thoroughly fucked,” he murmurs. One hand comes up to the breast he freed from my bra, playing with my nipple, and I moan softly. “I won’t be able to stop myself again, Page.”

I look into his eyes. “Good. I don’t want you to.”

For a moment, he just stares at me, his jaw tight. Then he leans down, his lips brushing against my ear.

“You have no idea what you’ve started, beloved.”