Page 8 of The Alien in the Archive (Galactic Librarians #1)

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T hat night, I dream of him.

It starts innocently enough. I’m back in the library, tracing the shelves, fingertips gliding over the spines of old books. But I’m not just feeling the vellum, the binding.

I’m feeling his gravity, the irresistible pull of him. His voice slithers through the dream, low and smooth, teasing.

“Page…”

He’s sprawled in that big, velvet armchair, and I’m…I’m in his lap, straddling him, the cool air of the archive on my bare skin. My fingers grip his shoulders, rocking against him.

I’m so full of him—not like that, not really. He’s in every part of me, knowing me in a way no one ever has.

“I hear you,” he growls in my ear. “So loud.”

“I’m not… fuck ,” I curse as he thrusts deeper. I can’t stop myself, can’t help it.

“Always thinking,” he says. “Always wanting .”

My desires are in charge now as Thorne slides his big hands over my breasts, up my chest. He curls his fingers around my throat, squeezing slightly .

And then his thoughts are in my head, whispering.

You’re curious, aren’t you? Wondering what it would feel like. Wondering if I’d hurt you. Wondering if you’d like it.

I gasp, but he swallows the sound with his lips against mine, sharp canines grazing against my tongue. I moan into his mouth, drowning in a sea of sensation.

I wrench myself away. I’m in my bed, dreaming—or…is he here?

“You’re in my head,” I whisper.

He’s here again, inside. “Maybe. Or maybe you just want me there.”

I wake with a start, my breath ragged, sheets tangled around me from twisting in my sleep. My heart pounds against my ribs, and I press a hand to my chest, trying to steady myself.

The dream lingers, vivid and visceral. I squeeze my legs together, ignoring how my inner walls clench, too empty.

Was it really just a dream?

I can’t be sure.

Unable to sleep, I fling the blankets off and crawl out of bed to pace the small cottage. The early light of M’mir filters through the window, soft and pale pink, but it does nothing to calm me. My head’s a mess, clouded with thoughts of him—his hands, his voice, his all-consuming presence.

I sit down at the small desk under the window and bury my face in my hands.

What the hell is happening to me? Is he causing this? Did Thorne sneak into my dreams?

That dream wasn’t just desire—it was power. His power over me, and the terrifying realization that I wanted it. Wanted him . He’s thousands of years old, virtually a god who’s had ages to hone his powers…and I’m just scrambling around in the dark, playing at psychic.

The thought makes my stomach twist, equal parts apprehension and a dark, dangerous desire. I push it down, lock it away.

I should tell Riley. I should tell Davina, for fuck’s sake. There’s a Borean magister hiding in the Archive, and I’m the only one who knows .

But even as I consider it, I know I won’t do a damn thing…because the truth is, I don’t want this to stop. Not yet.

Whatever Thorne is, whatever he’s doing, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s tied to the questions I’ve been chasing my whole life. Answers about humanity’s role in the Pact, about why my parents died, why I have these strange gifts.

If I tell anyone about him, it’ll all be over. The Boreans were hunted to extinction after the Celestial Convergence—when they finally invaded Earth, after Thorne kept it secret for so long—and I can’t imagine he’ll be the sole exception.

I can’t risk that.

I need answers more than I need safety.

And if I’m being honest with myself…part of me can’t stomach the idea of being the reason he’s destroyed.

The atrium of the Grand Library is already buzzing with activity when I arrive later that morning, its vast open space filled with early risers. Students, scholars, and visitors move between rows of tables scattered across the polished marble floor—sharing ideas, having breakfast, studying alone. Sunlight streams through the glass mosaic overhead, painting everything in gold and violet.

I would normally be on my way to the Obscuary by now, eager to get to work…but I promised Riley I would start having breakfast with him to, as he so eloquently put it, “give my brain a break. ”

I’m regretting that choice more than ever when I want nothing more than to go racing back to Thorne.

I find Riley almost immediately, his laugh louder than any conversation. I weave between the scattered study groups and long marble tables to find him sitting with three others, mid-conversation. He spots me before I can hesitate and waves me over, grinning wide.

“There she is!” he calls, sitting back in his chair. “Come on, Page, you’re not getting out of meeting everyone forever.”

I sigh but keep walking, pasting on a polite smile. His friends are all looking at me now, and I feel a flicker of anxiety. Riley gets up to move me into a seat, taking my elbow. “Guys, this is my sister Page. Page, this is everyone.”

“Wow—very helpful, Riley,” I tease. “You could at least give me their names.”

“Fine, fine…” Riley gestures to the petite human girl beside him, her dark brown eyes assessing me with a spark of curiosity. She has short, springy curls that frame her face, and she’s drumming her fingers on the table in a rhythmic pattern.

“This is Lyn Walker,” Riley says, grinning. “Engineer, genius, and absolute nightmare to play cards with.”

Lyn raises an eyebrow at him, then extends a hand toward me. “Lyn,” she says, her voice cool but friendly, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Good things, I hope?” I say, shaking her hand.

“Mostly,” she replies, a sly grin creeping across her face. “Riley said you were the responsible one. I’m not sure I buy it.”

Riley laughs, but I catch the glint in Lyn’s eyes. She’s testing me, trying to figure me out. I can already tell she’s sharp—sharper than Riley, for sure—and probably won’t let me get away with much.

Before I can reply, the blond guy across from Lyn leans forward, resting his chin on his hand. He’s got a lazy, rakish grin, his amber eyes gleaming.

“And this,” Riley says, gesturing to him, “is Orin Takarr. He’s the guy who’ll either get you out of trouble or double down and get you arrested. No in between.”

Orin gives me a two-finger salute. “Hey there. So you’re the Page. Riley’s sister. I was starting to think you were a myth.”

“Nice to meet you.” I try to suppress a smile.

“Likewise,” he says, his grin widening. “And for the record, I’m much better at avoiding arrest than Riley gives me credit for. Not that he’d know—he’s usually the one dragging me into trouble.”

“Lies,” Riley hisses, but we all know Orin is absolutely telling the truth.

Orin’s laugh is low and warm, and I can see why Riley gets along with him. There’s something easy about him, like nothing could shake him if he didn’t let it. They’re alike, in a way…though I get the impression Orin has been in way more trouble.

“And lastly…” Riley motions to the woman sitting beside Orin, her opalescent skin shimmering with the faint outline of scales in the soft sunlight streaming through the dome. Her golden eyes flick up to meet mine, shy and uncertain, and her lips quirk into a hesitant smile.

“This is Thalara Seviris,” Riley says. “Merati historian and my favorite drinking buddy. Oh…and she’s a princess.”

I give her an incredulous look. “A princess? Really?”

She sighs, her cheeks turning bright pink. “How many times do I have to tell you…”

“She’s from a noble line on Triton, but she won’t be sitting on the throne anytime soon,” Lyn cuts in. “She’s also in History like you, just spends time in Engineering because her aunt, who is a princess, teaches there. ”

“Got it.” I turn and smile at Thalara. “Where are you working? I feel like I never get out of the Obscuary.”

“I’m tracing patrilineal lines to enhance our knowledge of marriage practices prior to the takeover of the Merati matriarchy,” she says. “We have a hard time tracking down our female ancestors during that time, so it’s been my life’s work to find them.”

“How long have you been doing it?”

She smiles. “Twenty years. At this point, the Turitella is my home.”

Ah…the Turitella—yet another spot on my M’mir bucket list. It’s the highest point in the library, a tower of coral that looks out over the sea.

“That must be incredible,” I say. “I’ve heard it’s beautiful.”

She nods. “Particularly at sunset. You should really stop by sometime; it tends to be very quiet at the end of the day as well. A good place to reflect.”

“Sounds amazing,” I return Thalara’s smile, “I’d love to see it sometime.”

I mean it—but even as the words leave my mouth, my thoughts drift. The idea of a tranquil, serene place like the Turitella feels impossible when my mind is anything but.

The views don’t matter…I just want to get back to the Obscuary.

The laughter and light chatter around the table feels distant now, muffled by the nagging weight in my chest. I can feel Thorne’s gravity even from here, the whisper of his voice in my ear, his hands on my skin. He’s like a ghost, haunting me even in broad daylight.

I glance at Riley, his easy smile lighting up his face as he bickers with Thalara. I catch little snippets of thought from all four of them—Lyn’s distracted pondering, Orin thinking about what he’ll do today, Riley’s complete comfort with these people…Thalara’s little crush on Riley , which I will take to my grave.

But the point is that Riley is letting me into his life. I should let him into mine.

He would want to know about Thorne. Of course he’d want to know. Riley’s always been the one looking out for me, trying to fix things even when I didn’t ask him to. If But if I told him about Thorne, he would try to protect me.

I can’t have that.

I don’t want to be protected from Thorne.

“Page?” Riley’s voice pulls me back to the present. I blink, realizing the table’s gone quiet, all eyes on me.

He looks worried—probably thinks I’m having a headache again.

“You spaced out there,” he says, tilting his head. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “Just tired. Didn’t sleep too much last night.”

“Because you’ve been working yourself to death,” Riley frowns. “Have you gone to the doctor yet?”

“No, but I will,” I insist. “I’m fine, Riley. Really. But…I should get going, don’t want to miss out on valuable daylight.”

“But you didn’t even eat breakfast.”

“I had some before I came,” I say, getting up and slinging my bag over my shoulder. “It was nice to meet you all.”

The three of them murmur polite goodbyes as I step away from the table, but I can feel their eyes on me, especially Riley’s. He’s too perceptive for his own good, and I know I’m not fooling him. Not entirely, anyway.

I keep walking, weaving through the rows of tables and out to the wider hall. The atrium feels suffocating now, the buzz of conversation too loud, too intrusive, like every stray thought is pressing against my mind. My head aches, a dull pulse at the base of my skull .

I need space.

Or I need…someone who understands.

As I step into the quieter outer halls, the suffocating buzz of the atrium fades. The Obscuary is several floors above, nestled in the twisting labyrinth of the library’s oldest tunnels and stacks.

I know I shouldn’t go back so soon. I should take a break, do some other research after that dream.

But my feet seem to have other plans.

I tell myself I’m going back for research, for answers. That’s why I’m here, after all. That’s why I haven’t told Riley or Davina about Thorne—because he’s the only one who might hold the key to the questions I’ve spent years chasing.

But deep down, I know it’s not just that.

I can still feel him, an invisible string pulling me closer with every step I take. It’s maddening, this strange connection that defies logic, that makes me ache in ways I don’t fully understand.

By the time I reach the lift that leads to the Obscuary, my resolve is crumbling. The air here is colder, heavier, and the faint hum of the library’s wards grows louder, a constant reminder of the power contained within these walls.

I hesitate at the entrance, staring at the heavy iron gate that marks the boundary of the Obscuary. It’s not like I have to go and visit Thorne today…in fact, I should probably play it cool and wait. I wouldn’t want Davina to find out.

Right. I’ll go in, do some research… maybe see Thorne after I’ve taken some notes and worked on organizing my project. I don’t have to race to his lair.

I just want to.

And it has nothing to do with my dirty dreams.