Page 83 of The Alien in the Archive

“Stay with me,” I ask him.

He knows I don’t mean here, not in this room, not even on M’mir. I meanstay…because I can’t imagine a life without him.

This is it.

I came here to study the past, and somehow, I found my future.

He doesn’t respond, but he curls his body around me, rolling us so that he’s beneath me, my legs straddling him as his cock softens. He strokes my hair and I rest against his chest, inhaling the scent of him—old books, turning pages, ink, andThorne. I can tell there’s something lurking at the fringes of his mind, a thought he wants to share, but he keeps it locked away.

“I’m going to get you out of the Obscuary,” I tell him, keeping my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “I’m going to find a way.”

He doesn’t stop stroking my hair. “I know you will, beloved.”

I lift my eyes to his, brow furrowed. “So you…you’ll come with me?”

He cups my face in his hands, smiling. “Of course I will,” he murmurs. “Ilove you, Patience McRae. Where you lead, I go.”

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Now that we’ve given ourselves to this completely, the world outside Thorne’s hideaway ceases to exist.

Every day, I’m in the Obscuary at the crack of dawn, pretending to work for maybe an hour or so before I slip away. When I come to him, he meets me at the door, takes me in his arms, undresses me. Sometimes we take our time, others we’re frantic and rushed. Sometimes we play and tease and talk through it—about history or philosophy or even the future.

It’s perfect.

And maybe I’m delusional, but I think we can make this work.

We lie naked in a pile of cushions and blankets that we’ve repurposed out of what used to be his bed, having made a nest for ourselves amongst the books and glow lamps. Ashlan is curled up on the couch, ignoring us as he snoozes. I lay beside Thorne, one hand on his chest, the other holding a book on the application of Elixir in Skoll medicine. He’sreading, too, his book held gracefully between his long fingers, his other hand resting on my hip.

I look over at him, putting my book down as I rest my chin on his shoulder. “You’ve ruined me,” I murmur, tracing circles on Thorne’s chest with my fingertip. “My schedule is all off-kilter since we started having sex.”

“Good,” he murmurs, not looking at me as he turns the page. “That means I’m doing my job.”

I scoff. “Which is?”

Now he meets my eyes. “Keeping you well-fucked.”

I shove his shoulder and he snorts, a satisfied smile playing over his lips. I like this version of him…the happy version. I didn’t know he existed. I can’t stop staring at him, grinning like an idiot.

He turns another page, his eyes darting side to side as he inhales whatever paperback he’s reading.

“What are you even reading?” I ask.

“Hm…” he frowns, then he looks at the cover—and I’m shocked to see that it’s a romance, featuring a corseted woman being absolutely ravished by a dark-haired man. “The Corsair’s Captive, apparently.”

I laugh, drawing Thorne’s ire. “Really? Bodice rippers?”

“What?” he asks. “I started reading them to learn human mating practices, and it seems they did the trick.”

“These arenothow you should learn about human mating practices,” I say. I snatch the book out of his hands and roll onto my back, looking at the pages. My eyes immediately land on the words ‘his throbbing manhood’ and I give him a sideways look. “Hm…no wonder you were reading so fast.”

Thorne chuckles. “Given the things we’ve done together at this point, I’m not sure you’re in a place to critique my reading habits.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, youdidask me to pull your hair and call you a good girl the other day…”

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