Page 56 of The Alien in the Archive

I groan. “Fine.Anyway…then it occurred to me that maybe things had gotten so strange between us because we’d accidentally Elixir bonded, but I didn’t think it was enough to save you….and I wasn’t sure if Boreans even did this, or if Elixir works differently for your kind.”

Thorne leans back against the loveseat, his expression unreadable. “The Boreans didn’t…bond the way others did. Elixir was a necessity for us, yes, but not in the way you imagine. There were no ceremonies. No rituals. It was survival, plain and simple.” He pauses, his jaw tightening. “And destruction.”

I glance at him, frowning. “Destruction?”

His gaze darkens. “We were conquerors, Page. Colonizers. We took what we wanted, drained entire planets of their resources, destroyed ecosystems. Billions of lives were lost because of us. That’s the legacy of the Boreans—and its why Elixir is so heavily regulated now, to prevent anyone from abusing it.”

The weight of his words settles over me, heavy and suffocating. “But you’re not like the rest of the Boreans,” I say quietly. “You’re not…you’re not a conqueror.”

“Aren’t I?” he asks, his voice bitter. “I’ve killed, Page. More than you can imagine. I’m not some noble scholar sitting here to impart wisdom—I’m a relic of a brutal empire. And yet, here you are, trying to save me. Why?”

“Because I see you.” I shift sideways so I can keep my gaze on him. “I see the way you care, the way you treat Ashlan, the way you…” I falter, searching for the right words. “You’re more than what they were, Thorne. You’ve changed. You’re still changing.”

He studies me for a long moment, as if searching for some hidden truth in my face. Finally, he lets out a heavy sigh,. “You shouldn’t feel this way about me.”

“I can’t help it,” I whisper, reaching out to touch his hand.

His fingers twitch under mine, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he turns his hand over, letting me lace my fingers with his. The chill of his skin sends a shiver through me, but I don’t let go.

And there’s this thought…and I can’t place it. It comes unbidden, like the need to breathe.

Mine.

I turn in his arms, moving to straddle his long legs. I can feel him, still hard, but he doesn't touch me.

“Page…” he murmurs, a note of warning in his voice.

But I lean in and kiss him, slow and careful.

And he kisses me back.

His hands are on me again, taking mine, winding our fingers around each other as if he’s hanging on so he doesn’t lose control. He’s careful, restrained, but no less intense. The kiss moves through me, ricocheting through my system.

“We need to take this slow,” he says when we pause, hisvoice tight with restraint. “If I lose control, Page…” He trails off, his grip tightening. His gaze is heavy, searching, and I can feel his fear beneath the desire. “I need to be sure. Not just of you, but of me. Of what I might do.”

I shift in his lap, my lips brushing the edge of his jaw. “I am sure,” I whisper, my voice steady despite the way my heart races. “How can I convince you to be?”

His breath hitches, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. I can feel his thoughts churning, a storm of guilt and desire. “I don’t know,” he admits finally, his voice raw.

“Okay…so we explore, take our time. I get that,” I breathe. “But this is slow enough, isn’t it?”

He smirks. “You’re too stubborn for your own good, Page McRae.”

But he kisses me again, this time slower, more deliberate. His lips are cold, but the intensity of the kiss is enough to set me on fire. Thorne’s hands remain steady, holding mine, and it’s almost maddening how controlled he is. I can feel the tension in him, the way he’s holding himself back—I canhear itin his mind—and it makes me want to push him.

“Slow,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice a growl that sends shivers down my spine. “We take this slow.”

I keep moving languidly, disentangling our fingers, reaching for his chest, running my hands slowly down his stomach. Thorne hisses out a breath as I grip the hem of his ragged shirt and pull it up, revealing taut pale skin.

“Page,” he warns.

And that's when I let him look again.

All the fantasies of him that I've had from the beginning…straddling him, riding him, moaning his name. My hands are under his shirt, touching his chest, and I'm picturing…

His hand presses to my back, the other pulling me toward him by the back of my head. “That isn't fair,” he chuckles, hard as a rock between my thighs.

“Lean into it,” I breathe. “Dream.”

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