Page 24 of The Alien in the Archive

She doesn’t know how to shield herself. I’m not sure if she cares to.

Did she want me to see?

As she reads, oblivious to my presence, my eyes slide from the profile of her face down her graceful neck…to her waist, her hips. I remember the way she dreamt of me—I couldn’t possibly forget—and it sends me reeling.

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

They were her words, not mine—but she imagined me saying them, growling in her ear. I wonder what it would feel like to touch her mind-to-mind as she rode my cock, nails digging into?—

She turns around suddenly and I move out of the way, concealing myself.

Can she hear me now, despite all the shields I have in place?

From my hiding place, I listen…but she doesn’t move.

Paper rustles, another page turning.

I look again.

She leans forward, resting her chin in her hand. The motion is so unguarded, so human, that it sends a wave of guilt crashing through me. This woman—this girl, really—is alive. She has a life ahead of her, a different fate.

I’m nothing. Nobody. A ghost.

“What are you hiding?” she murmurs, and it feels like she’s speaking directly to me. She taps her pencil on her notebook, her knee setting to wiggling as it did in my alcove yesterday. “There’s something missing…I know there is. I guess?—”

I read her thoughts when she trails off, creeping into her mind.

I could go to him.

I could give her that missing piece of the puzzle—tell her everything I know before I shuffle off this mortal coil. But it takes time to tell a millennia-long life story, and time with her is dangerous. The more we interact, the more I’ll want to keep her.

Or even worse, drink from her—extract the Elixir I’m beginning to crave.

Since she discovered I was the shadow in the dark, she believes she’s safe here. She’s not; just because a wolf can be domesticated doesn’t mean it’s lost its teeth. If I truly wanted to hurt her, not even meddling books could save her.

Watching her, thinking about her, longing for her and hating myself more and more every second.

She moves, and I brace myself to get out of the way, but she walks toward a far shelf rather than toward me. There’s a ladder there, and she moves it along the bookshelf, then takes hold of both sides to climb up.

She’s halfway up the ladder when I feel it: another flicker ofhesitation. Her thoughts are split, some still lingering on the pages she just read, others pulling toward me. She feels like looking at books is a waste of time when she has a direct source.

What if I asked him?

She’s been thinking of me all day.

The realization sends a ripple of satisfaction through me, with more than a little self-loathing. She has no idea I’m here, lurking out of sight.

She takes another step up the ladder, her hand stretching for the next rung, fingers brushing against the edge of the shelf. My focus narrows to the sway of her body, the fragile curve of her wrist as she grips the ladder. She just had to climb to the top shelf, didn’t she?

The ladder shifts.

It happens too quickly. Her hand slips, her boot skids off the rung, and she plummets.

Instinct takes over. I haven’t summoned telekinesis in years—not without enough Elixir to bolster me—but I reach for her with everything I have. The air crackles, the faintest shimmer of power slowing her descent, just enough for me to surge out of the shadows and catch her.

She collides with me, her weight knocking the air from my lungs as my arms wrap tightly around her. The impact reverberates through me, her warmth, her scent, her very presence igniting something feral beneath my skin.

For a moment, the world stills.

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