Page 70 of The Alien in the Archive

“I know,” he says, reading my thoughts. “My understanding is this can be offensive to humans…but I can smell it, your arousal.”

“Oh…fuck,” I breathe, adjusting myself in his lap. I somehow manage to settle and rest my hands against his chest, finally looking up at him. “So, fancy meeting you here.”

He smirks, one sharp canine pressing into his lower lip. I melt a little more.

But he doesn’t touch me; instead, he reaches over to a stack of books beside him, producing the notebook I gave him last night. He holds it out to me and I take it carefully, opening it up in the small space between us.

My breath catches.

The script is beautiful, flowing lines and intricate curves that seem almost alive on the page. I recognize a few characters, but I’m still horrible at reading Borean. Even so, I can tell this was all inscribed in Thorne’s own hand.

“This is…” I start, running my fingers over the characters etched into the paper. “Thorne, it’s beautiful, but I was hoping you’d write your chronicle in a language I could read.”

“You will,” he says. “One day.”

“But learning Borean can take years.”

He takes my face in his hands, locking eyes with me. “It will.”

The weight of his words settles over me, and I realize what he’s saying. This isn’t just about the notebook, or the chronicle.

It’s about us—because he’s made a decision that he wants to live.

And he wants to livewith me.

“Thorne,” I whisper, clutching the notebook to my chest. “Thank you. I don’t…I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs. “But I hope that’s more of an answer than the ‘maybe’ you got last night.”

I lean in and kiss him, the notebook still held delicately between us. His hands slide into my hair, relishing the moment, the taste…

But I can’t stop thinking about that.

Aboutyears.

I pull back, and Thorne can already tell I’m troubled when I twist my face into a frown. “Thorne,” I murmur. “Yousaid…you said you had years, at most, if you didn’t drink Elixir.”

He sobers. Shrugs. “I’m really not sure.”

“But if you drink my blood…it would add just a little, right? A stopgap until we can find a more permanent solution.”

“Page, you don’t have to?—”

“I want to,” I interrupt, pressing my finger to his lips. It sends a full-body shiver through me, reminding me of that night—the night everything changed. “Please, Thorne. It’s…it’s for me, really. Just to set my mind at ease.”

He reaches out and touches my consciousness, like he’s looking for validation that I’m not lying.

Then he nods. “Okay.”

I tremble, though it’s more from anticipation than anything else. I look around, searching for something sharp, but I don’t see anything. “I’m not sure…don’t know how to cut myself?—”

“You don’t have to,” Thorne says. “My people…we used to bite our lovers.” He bares his teeth slightly. “I’m sure you noticed the fangs.”

I laugh, the sound brittle. “A little.”

His eyes move from my eyes to my lips…then lower, to my black button-up.

“May I undress you, Page?” he asks quietly.

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