Page 52 of The Alien in the Archive

No, her focus is entirely on me.

“Why do you have to make everything so difficult?” she demands, standing abruptly.

“I’m not the one throwing a tantrum over handwriting.”

“This isn’t about the damn handwriting!” she growls. Her hands clench at her sides, her breathing uneven. She looks up at the ceiling for a moment, as if searching for what to say next, then she puts her hands on her hips.

“I’m trying to save your life,” she says, as if it should have been obvious. “I’m trying toget you out of the Obscuary.”

I stand in shocked silence for a moment, caught off-guard by her outburst.

“Save my life?” I repeat.

“Yes,” she snaps. She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. Then I feel it, just slightly…pain. She’s hurting. She’s worried. “You’re wasting away in here, Thorne. You refuse to leave, you refuse to take what you need, and you’re just…giving up! And I should be focused on my research, and instead, I’m more and more interested in making sure you actually survive.”

What I need?

Gods…she’s talking about her blood.

She’s angry at me for refusing to drink her blood again.

I stare at her, disbelieving and more than a little frustrated. “And what exactly do you think you can do, Page? I’ve been alive for thousands of years—I’ve had my time. Youshouldn’t waste your energy on an old ghost who isn’t even worth saving.”

She looks at me, stunned, as if I’ve just slapped her. Again, I think she’ll back down.

“But I…” she starts, her voice faltering.

I step closer, narrowing my eyes. “You what?”

She swallows hard, her lips parting as though the words are caught somewhere between her throat and her pride.

“I have so many things to ask you,” she finally blurts out. “So muchto learn from you.”

“Ah.” I bark out a bitter laugh. “So that’s it. I’m just an encyclopedia for you then, right? A relic to be studied before I’m gone? You want me to teach you all I know, even if I’m prepared to die.”

Her eyes light with anger—with passion—silver swirling in her grey irises. Before I can stop her, she takes a big step forward.

We’re face to face now, her breath against my skin. I don’t move. I can’t back down…and I want, desperately, to be close to her.

“No, you fucking idiot,” she snarls, voice trembling. “I don’t want you to teach me. I don’t want your lectures or your lessons or your history. Not anymore.”

Her hands twitch at her sides as if she’s barely holding herself from touching me. I can feel her frustration crackling between us, mingling with mine.

And her voice is a whisper when she says, “I justwant you.”

She doesn’t flinch.Doesn’t show any sign of regretting what she said. Her eyes lock onto mine, daring me to look away, to dismiss her, to do anything but acknowledge the truth hanging in the air between us.

I can’t move.

I can’t speak.

All I can do is stand there, the words replaying in my mind over and over again.

I just want you.

It takes me a moment for the meaning to fully sink in, for the weight of her admission to wrap around me like a vice. Suddenly, I can’t breathe; this is too heavy.

I’ve shown so much restraint, and it’s done no good.

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