Page 44 of The Alien in the Archive

I don’t sense her before she arrives, so it takes me by surprise when I hear the bookcase opening, the mechanisms grinding to let Page in. She appears on the other side as if nothing happened yesterday, wearing a pair of plain grey slacks and a colorful knit sweater, her messenger bag slung over her shoulder. I frown up at her, nearly dropping my book, while Ashlan makes his way over to purr around her ankles.

“Page,” I say. “What are you doing here?”

She raises an eyebrow, stepping further into the alcove and letting the bag slide from her shoulder. “We’re working, right?”

I get up, walking carefully toward her. I don’t want to get too close—I don’t fully trust myself around her—but I can’tresist. “I thought you might need space,” I hedge, unsure how to approach her.

“Why?” she asks, tilting her head. “Because you drank my blood?”

I flinch. She doesn’t even try to tip-toe around it.

“You should be angry,” I mutter. “And afraid.”

“I’m not,” she says simply. “And I don’t see the point in wasting time. My powers aren’t going to wait for us to figure things out, and neither will my research. So…are you going to help me or not?”

There’s no hesitation in her voice, no trace of fear. If anything, she’s more resolute than ever. It’s…incredibly alluring.

Mine.

I try to shake off the thought.

“Fine,” I say. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” she replies, eyes narrowing slightly as if daring me to argue.

I’m not even going to try to argue—because I know I’ll lose, and because I want her here, even if I know it’s wrong.

“Well…let’s get out of here,” I mutter. “It’s too cluttered in this space; I want more cushioning around you if you’re going to try this.”

“Try what?” she asks, her expression brightening. “You have a lesson plan?”

I snort. “Not exactly, but…I thought it might be fun to try flying.”

She coughs, gaping at me. “Excuse me? That feels like a bit of a leap from making a glass float.”

I shrug. “What better way to practice discipline than applying your power to your own body?”

Page gives me a suspicious glance. “I think you’ve lost your mind.”

I smirk, turning toward the deeper recesses of theObscuary. “Says the woman who walked in here like nothing happened last night.”

She follows, her footsteps light but quick behind me. “Touché. So, where are we doing this little experiment? Or are we just hovering over stacks of books?”

I glance over my shoulder. “The reading nook. Plenty of space, lots of pillows, minimal risk of breaking your neck.”

“How comforting,” she mutters, though I catch the faintest hint of a smile.

The reading nook isn’t far, tucked away through a narrow gap between bookshelves. It’s become something of a sanctuary for both of us—quiet, secluded, and uniquely ours. Cushions are scattered around the low central table, papers strewn across it from the last time we were here. It occurs to me then that if she’d chosen not to return, it would have hurt to come back here without her.

I’m so, so glad she’s here.

Page looks over the cushions and the table, her jaw tense. “You really think I’m ready for this?”

“I think,” I say, pulling a large cushion away from the table, trying to build a nest where she can practice, “that you need to test your limits. And this is a controlled environment where I can intervene if necessary.”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Right. ‘Intervene.’ Is that code for ‘watch me make a fool of myself’?”

“Only if you’re lucky,” I reply dryly, earning a huff of laughter from her.

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