Page 27 of The Alien in the Archive (Galactic Librarians #1)

27

THORNE

T he scratching of my pen against the aged paper is the only sound in the alcove. Ashlan is curled in the corner, his antennae glowing a light, cool blue, as I continue to piece together the fractured memories of my past.

The Borean Chronicle feels less like a historical record and more like an exercise in self-flagellation. Every word, every line of script drags up ghosts I’d much rather leave buried.

But Page asked for this, and against all better judgment, I find myself wanting to give her what she wants.

My hand hesitates over the next line. I blame the lingering haze from last night—the warmth of her skin, her gasps, the way her blood tasted, sweeter than I deserve. I tried very hard to convince myself I was against those base longings, but now it’s clear.

I’m hopelessly tangled in her, mind and body.

Gods…the way she makes me feel alive again. Like the centuries of dust and decay have been swept away, leaving something raw and unrecognizable beneath .

Something that, apparently, writes bad love poetry in the margins of its history books.

Perhaps the human love books are having an effect on me.

I glance down at the notebook, scowling at the stray sentence I’ve scrawled in the corner: Hopelessly tangled in her.

I strike it out. Absolutely not.

Before I can get back to work, I sense an unfamiliar presence coming through the archive gate—a mind I haven’t encountered before. The Obscuary should be empty. Page would’ve reached out if she were coming. I set the pen down and rise from my chair, sliding soundlessly into the shadows.

Ashlan chirps in warning, his glowing antennae twitching as we approach the intruder. I extend my awareness, brushing against their mind—and stop short.

Human. Male. And familiar in a way that grates on my nerves and sends a swell of familial affection through me, affection that is entirely alien.

Riley.

I step further into the shadows as the footsteps draw nearer. He rounds the corner with the casual confidence of someone who has no idea he’s walking into a predator’s den. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, his dark hair tousled in a way that suggests he wants you to think he doesn’t care about it. His leather jacket creaks as he pauses, his sharp gaze scanning the space with a mixture of curiosity and wariness.

When his eyes land on me, he stops and gapes.

“You’re Thorne,” he says, as if stating a fact.

“And you’re not supposed to be here,” I reply.

“Yeah…about that,” he runs a hand through his hair, “Page told me about you, but then she said she’d try to introduce us…and never followed up. So, given she’s been spending an awful lot of time with you, I took things into my own hands.”

I raise an eyebrow, then I gesture over my shoulder .

“I suppose it would be rude not to invite you to my home, then,” I say. “Follow me.”

The sound of Riley’s boots echoes in the cavernous silence of the Obscuary, far too loud for my liking. Ashlan trots ahead of us, antennae casting a faint bioluminescent glow across the darkened floor

“What is that little guy?” Riley asks, gesturing toward Ashlan, who chirps in response, his tail flicking.

“Lumivix,” I reply curtly, leading him through a narrow corridor flanked by towering shelves of ancient tomes. “A creature native to this planet. They like to steal books.”

Riley chuckles. “He’s adorable,” he says, pausing to crouch and reaching out to scratch behind the lumivix’s ears. Ashlan leans into the touch, his antennae glowing brighter.

I sigh, glancing back at the two of them. “You’re slowing us down.”

Riley stands, unbothered. “Sorry, but it’s not every day you meet a…what’d you call it? Lumivix? He looks like a cat crossed with a firefly.”

Ashlan chirps indignantly, and I swear he’s offended by the comparison. “He’s smarter than he looks,” I say, stepping through an archway into another hall. “He just has a habit of taking a liking to people he shouldn’t.”

Riley smirks. “Like you, then?”

I don’t dignify that with a response, keeping my focus ahead as we near the alcove. The dim, dusty air of the Obscuary feels heavier with him here, an outsider treading in a place typically reserved for only me and Page. But Ashlan seems content, padding along at Riley’s side, his antennae bobbing like tiny lanterns.

“Here,” I say as we reach the concealed entrance to my alcove. I glance over at Riley, who’s now crouched again, scratching under Ashlan’s chin. “Are you coming, or did you want to adopt him first? ”

Riley grins, rising to his feet. “Tempting. But I think he’d miss you too much.”

Ashlan chirps again, as if to agree. I roll my eyes and step inside, gesturing for Riley to follow.

We walk inside, Riley coming in after me with his hands in his pockets. I turn to look at him, crossing my arms.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” he says, glancing around at the piles of books and general disarray. “Page didn’t mention you were living in a hoarder’s paradise.”

“I prefer to think of it as curated chaos,” I deadpan. “Why are you here, Riley?”

He crosses his arms, leaning casually against the nearest stack of books. It starts to shift and Riley quickly rights himself, overcorrecting and stumbling a step. He shakes it off, and I get the impression he’s no stranger to losing his balance. “I wanted to meet the guy who’s been monopolizing my sister’s time—and her thoughts.”

Of course. He’s her only family; they’re close, and Page is certainly protective of him. I should’ve expected this.

I arch an eyebrow, gesturing toward the battered loveseat. “If you’re so determined to lecture me, you might as well sit down.”

Riley hesitates for a moment before sitting down. His eyes dart around, taking in the place with a grimace.

“This is where you live?” he asks, his tone hovering between disbelief and pity.

“Yes,” I reply flatly. “Page says it’s ‘spooky’. Maybe I should add some skulls for effect?”

He smirks, letting out a genuine laugh. I gently prod at his mind, searching for if it’s real…and it is. He’s actually giving me the benefit of the doubt. “Page talks about you, you know. A lot.”

“Does she?” I settle back into my chair, trying not to feel too smug .

“Yeah,” he says, leaning forward. “Enough that I figured I should find out for myself if you’re worth her time.”

“And?” I ask, arching an eyebrow. “What’s your verdict so far?”

“You’re still on trial,” he replies, his tone sharp but not entirely unkind. “So, let’s get to it. What are your intentions with my sister?”

“My intentions?”

“Yes,” he says, crossing his arms. “You know, long-term plans? Goals? Are you stringing her along for fun, or is this actually going somewhere?”

It takes a moment to process the absurdity of this interrogation, especially when Page is so much more to me than any of that. We’re not ‘going somewhere’; fate has had us hurtling toward each other since the day we were born.

“Well,” I say, “I was thinking of keeping her around as my personal librarian-slash-blood donor, but now that you’ve brought it up, maybe I’ll upgrade her to co-conspirator.”

Riley narrows his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “You’re hilarious,” he says, leaning back in the loveseat. “But I’m serious. Page is…she’s been through enough. We had it rough growing up, and she busted her ass to get here. I don’t want her getting hurt.”

The edge in his voice isn’t surprising. He’s protective, and I can respect that, even if his delivery leaves something to be desired. I take a measured breath, considering my next words.

“I care about her,” I say finally, my voice quieter, the sarcasm gone. Riley’s expression shifts slightly, his skepticism softening. “I care about her more than I should. More than is safe.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

I lean back, my fingers drumming against the armrest of my chair. “Because if you think for one second I don’t understand the risks she’s taking by being with me, you’re wrong. I know what I am, and I know what it means to her.”

Riley studies me for a long moment. “And what are you?”

“A complication,” I admit. “A complication she chose, and one I’m trying very hard not to let destroy her.”

For a moment, there’s silence between us, broken only by the faint rustle of Ashlan leaping up to jump into Riley’s lap. Riley absently scratches the lumivix’s head, his focus still on me.

“She’s not just anyone to me,” I continue. “I’ve lived for centuries, Riley. I’ve seen empires rise and fall, and I’ve lost more than you can imagine. But Page…” I hesitate, hoping he understands that I’m serious. “She’s special. I’ve been taking things slow because I respect her. Because I care about her safety more than my own desires. And because I know what she means to you, as well.”

He blinks, clearly taken aback by the bluntness of my response. “Slow, huh?” he says after a beat. “Is that why she’s been blushing like a teenager every time I mention your name?”

I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my lips. “I don’t control her reactions.”

“No, but you seem to inspire them,” Riley mutters, shaking his head. “Look, I’m not here to scare you off. If you’re genuine, if you really care about her, then…fine. I’ll trust you. But if you hurt her?—”

“I won’t,” I interrupt, my voice firm. “Not intentionally.”

Riley studies me for another long moment, then nods, seemingly satisfied. “Alright,” he says, standing. “Then I guess I’ll leave you to your…curated chaos.”

He glances down at Ashlan, who chirps and nuzzles against his leg. “And maybe I’ll visit again. If only for this guy. ”

Ashlan’s antennae brighten as if in agreement, and I scowl. “You’ve made a friend, it seems.”

“Yeah, well, he’s less prickly than you,” Riley says with a grin.

“Don’t push your luck,” I mutter.

But when I look up at him, he’s still smiling.

I smile back.

Riley steps toward the alcove’s exit, then pauses, glancing back at me. “Take care of her,” he says. “Because uh…if you don’t, I know where you live.”

“I will,” I promise. “And understood.”

He nods once before disappearing into the shadows of the Obscuary. As his footsteps fade, I glance down at Ashlan, who chirps softly and curls up at my feet again.

“Well,” I mutter, picking up my pen, “that was…unexpected.”

Ashlan doesn’t respond, but his quiet presence is oddly comforting as I turn back to the Borean Chronicle, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air.