Page 122 of The Alien in the Archive

It’s easy to forget he can ruin me with a sentence.

I don’t trust myself to say anything back, so I just turn off the stove and start dishing food onto two plates. He doesn’t protest when I hand him one, though I notice he’s waiting for me before he sits.

The house is quiet as we eat, save for the scrape of forks and Ashlan’s rumbling purrs. Eventually, the lumivix trots over from the couch to hop into my lap, begging for a bite.

I slip him a noodle.

It can’t hurt, can it?

The mac and cheese disappears faster than I expect, mostly because I’m not paying attention. Thorne isn’t either. He pushes his food around on his plate more than he eats, like he’s trying to pretend for my sake. I know the difference; he’s only humoring me.

“Eat it,” I murmur, nudging his arm with my elbow.

He glances up, silver eyes catching the dim glow of the lamps. “I am.”

“No, you’restaringat it,” I correct. “If you want to prove you’re just like the rest of us, you need to do a better job.”

Thorne smirks, one brow lifting. “Harsh criticism for the man who keeps you warm at night.”

“Eat,” I repeat, but my cheeks flush. The bond between us hums, resonates, carrying everything we’re not saying. It’s there: the nerves we’re both fighting, the way every glance and every touch tonight feels a little more precious.

Thorne sets his fork down with a deliberate clink. “Page.”

I don’t look at him. “What?”

“Stop pretending you’re fine.”

I freeze, the food suddenly heavy on my tongue. I swallow it too fast, my throat tight. “Iamfine.”

“Did you forget I could read your mind?” he mutters.

I exhale, long and slow, the fight draining out of me. My fork falls from my fingers with a clink.

“I hate this,” I breathe.

“I know.”

“I just want to…” I pause, searching for something to latch onto. “I want to do something. Something normal.”

Thorne huffs out a laugh. “Nothing about this is normal.”

I push back from the table, the chair scraping against the floor. Thorne watches me, his gaze steady but cautious.

“If nothing about this is normal,” I say, crossing the room to walk toward the bathroom. “I’m going to do what I dowhen I’m sad. Because that’s what I am. I’m sad and I’m fucking scared and I’m…well, now I’m annoyed.”

He cocks his head at me, watching as I pull my shirt off and toss it on the floor. His inky eyes graze down my torso, to my hips as I start pulling off my pants.

“And you…like to get naked when you’re annoyed?” he says.

“No, I’m having a bath. Are you coming?”

47

THORNE

All I can do is follow her. It’s all I caneverdo.

Page is standing in her underwear by the bathtub, fussing with the taps. I stand, stuck in place for a moment in the doorway, watching her like she’s the only thing that exists…because she is, in a way.

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