Page 38 of The Alien in the Archive (Galactic Librarians #1)

38

THORNE

T he glow lamps around us illuminate my hideaway in a soft, golden light, casting long shadows. Ashlan pads silently across the floor, disappearing into and out of the pools of light. It’s nightfall—I can sense the scarce few scholars who came to the Archive today leaving, see the dusky sky through the skylight.

And yet, I’m still here, still in bed, with Page curled against my chest.

I’ve been awake for hours, barely moving. I don’t want to disturb her. Her breathing is slow and even, her body relaxed in a way that makes her seem smaller, more delicate than she is when awake. Her hair spills across my arm, and her scent—soft, warm, uniquely hers—grounds me.

Gods, I love her.

She should leave. I know this. It’s reckless for her to stay so long, especially now, with Davina’s ultimatum looming over us. If anyone finds her here, it’s over—for her and for me.

But I can’t bring myself to wake her. I don’t want her to go .

I’ve lost count of the ways she’s ruined me. Saved me.

I shift slightly, my hand brushing against her back, and she stirs. Her lips part, a faint hum escaping as she nestles closer, her fingers curling against my chest. My breath catches, the bond between us flickering faintly. She’s still half-asleep, her thoughts a blur of warmth and comfort, but I can feel her slowly surfacing.

“Thorne?” she murmurs, voice rough with sleep.

“I’m here,” I whisper, my fingers tracing idle patterns along her spine. “You should go back to sleep.”

Her eyes flutter open, silver-grey reflecting gold. She tilts her head up to look at me, and there’s a softness there that makes my chest ache.

“It’s late,” she says, her voice hoarse. “How long have I been out?”

“All day,” I admit.

Her eyes widen slightly and she starts to sit up, but I place a hand on her shoulder, gently keeping her in place.

“Stay,” I say, the word slipping out before I can stop it. “Please.”

She stills, searching my face, and I wonder if she can sense the weight of my thoughts through the bond. I’ve spent the better part of the day unraveling them, trying to make sense of the mess of emotions she’s stirred in me, the memories dredged up by the book she gave me, by my own re-discovered past, by the reading room deep in the archive.

“We have two weeks,” I tell her. “And after that…I’ll have to come out into the light. There’s no way around it, I’ve hidden away for too long?—”

“And we’re going to figure this out so you can just…move in with me,” she says. “Then we won’t have to hide. Please, let me believe that for now.”

I sit up, the blankets pooling around my waist as I reach up to swipe my hand over my face. Page follows me, resting her head on my shoulder.

“Talk to me,” she whispers.

I glance at her. “I’ve been reading the book you brought me,” I murmur. “It’s been…difficult.”

She frowns, but she listens.

“The essays,” I continue, “they’re raw. Brutally honest. I knew some of those people; argued with them, lectured to them, learned from them. And reading their words now…it’s like they’re haunting me. Most of them died for what they believed in. Executed, hunted down, erased from existence.” I pause, swallowing hard. “And I ran.”

“You survived ,” she corrects. Her hand covers mine.

“Surviving doesn’t feel like something to be proud of,” I say, my voice tight. “Not when it came at the cost of so many others. I should have done more. I should have been braver, smarter…better.”

Her fingers tighten around mine, grounding me. “You did what you could.”

“I don’t know if that’s true,” I admit. “But what I do know is that I can’t keep hiding. Not from my past, not from my guilt…and not from you.”

Her lips curve in a half-smile. “I see you quite clearly,” she says, reaching out and brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

She shifts forward, and I barely have time to brace myself before her lips meet mine. It’s soft at first, tentative; like she’s offering me a choice. I choose to kiss her, I always choose her. My hand comes up to cradle her face, pulling her closer as I deepen the kiss.

Her warmth presses against me, the soft curve of her body fitting perfectly against mine. Her fingers curl into my hair, tugging gently, and a low sound escapes me—half-growl, half-sigh. I let her take the lead, savoring her sweetness, the way she tilts her head to fit against me more completely, the way her breath hitches when I slide my hand to the small of her back, holding her steady.

She moves into my lap, straddling me. I can feel her cunt against my quickly hardening cock, wet and ready.

“We’re going to figure this out,” she says. “And until then…and after, and forever…I’m not going anywhere.”

I let my hands roam, one brushing up her back, the other slipping to her waist, holding her close. My lips trail down her jaw, tracing the line to her neck, where I press an open-mouthed kiss just below her ear. Her soft moan sends a thrill through me.

“Thorne,” she breathes.

I pull back slightly, just enough to look at her. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen, her eyes half-lidded but shining.

Gods, she’s beautiful.

She reaches between us and grasps my cock, stroking me. I close my eyes and rest my forehead against hers, brow furrowed as she gets me ready.

“I don’t deserve you,” I rasp.

“Shut up,” she replies.

Then she sinks down onto me.

I take shallow thrusts at first, Page taking her time. Our last encounter was rough, intense; and I realize with more than a little shame that I hurt her. She’s sore, taking me in slowly because I was too fast, too much…

“It’s a good kind of sore. A very good kind of sore,” she breathes, responding to my thoughts. She takes another ridge, sighing.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, touching her hip with a gentle caress. “I didn’t realize.”

Page leans forward to nuzzle my neck. “I liked it,” she whispers. “I like that I can still feel it, and that just means we need to go…a little slower… ”

She rocks against me, still taking it slow. I focus on the feel of her wet heat wrapped around me, the way her skin feels against mine. Her hips begin to match my rhythm, her breath catching in her throat as she rocks against me.

“God,” she groans, squeezing me tightly. “You are so fucking big.”

“Don’t even try to take my knot,” I murmur. “I don’t need you to. Just…use me as you see fit, beloved.”

Page closes her eyes and goes quiet, experimenting with the pace and depth, bracing herself on my shoulders.

She begins to move with more purpose, her hips working in time with mine, the rhythm building between us. My species’ anatomy means sex is usually about pressure, warmth, depth…but with her, I’m learning it’s about friction—and that friction is divine. Her eyes open and lock onto mine, eyelashes fluttering.

We make love like that for what feels like a long, long time; Page experimenting, figuring out what feels good, what makes her spin out of control, what’s sustainable. It’s leisurely, precise…and I realize we haven’t had this before because there’s always a time limit on our liaisons.

Could this be the beginning of forever?

She tilts her head forward, bites her lip, concentrating. I reach up to stroke her hair, smooth it back from her face.

“I’m here,” I whisper. “I’m right here.”

And while what did her in earlier was rough and wild…now it’s the tenderness between us.

Page’s whole body shudders, and then she’s coming; clenching, moaning. I tune into her psychic resonance, and then I’m with her—and even though I haven’t locked myself in, I come purely by virtue of being in her head.

She pulls off of me right away—another odd sensation particular to her species—and wraps herself around me. I scoot back to lean against the sofa, holding Page and stroking her hair, her back.

She lifts her gaze to mine. “How can I help?” she asks.

I huff. “This is working wonders.”

“It’s incredible how you manage to be sarcastic at the absolute worst times,” she says. “I mean it, Thorne. With the book, with your chronicle…tell me what I can do.”

I smile. “Right now, this is enough.”