Page 100 of The Alien in the Archive

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I was jealous. I won’t intrude on your dreams again.”

I reach up to trail my fingers down his cheek. “You won’t have to worry about me when you’re sleeping in my bed every night,” I whisper. “Just…trust me. Please.”

“I do,” he murmurs.

“Then why did you?—”

“Because I missed you,” he starts. His hips move instinctively. I bite my lip and moan under my breath. “Because I was jealous.” He leans in closer. “Because I’m yours, Patience McRae.”

We stay like that for a while, kneeling in the blankets with him slowly fucking me into another orgasm. The bondbetween us hums and crackles, flickering along our tangled limbs like an electric current. Eventually, Thorne pulls out and lays me down in the blankets, holding me tight.

I rest my head against his chest, the steady thrum of his heart grounding me as I let my breathing slow. Maybe I’m crazy…but I think it’s beating faster lately, his skin warmer…

“You’re not crazy,” he murmurs into my hair. “It’s you. We…there’s something special between us. It’s bringing me back to life.”

I look up at him, finding his dark eyes on me.

“How?” I ask.

He brushes my hair back. “Get some sleep,” he murmurs. “We’ll talk about it when you wake up.”

And I guess I need the rest…because I fall asleep right away.

38

THORNE

The glow lamps around us illuminate my hideaway in a soft, golden light, casting long shadows. Ashlan pads silently across the floor, disappearing into and out of the pools of light. It’s nightfall—I can sense the scarce few scholars who came to the Archive today leaving, see the dusky sky through the skylight.

And yet, I’m still here, still in bed, with Page curled against my chest.

I’ve been awake for hours, barely moving. I don’t want to disturb her. Her breathing is slow and even, her body relaxed in a way that makes her seem smaller, more delicate than she is when awake. Her hair spills across my arm, and her scent—soft, warm, uniquely hers—grounds me.

Gods, I love her.

She should leave. I know this. It’s reckless for her to stay so long, especially now, with Davina’s ultimatum looming over us. If anyone finds her here, it’s over—for her and for me.

But I can’t bring myself to wake her. I don’t want her to go.

I’ve lost count of the ways she’s ruined me. Saved me.

I shift slightly, my hand brushing against her back, and she stirs. Her lips part, a faint hum escaping as she nestles closer, her fingers curling against my chest. My breath catches, the bond between us flickering faintly. She’s still half-asleep, her thoughts a blur of warmth and comfort, but I can feel her slowly surfacing.

“Thorne?” she murmurs, voice rough with sleep.

“I’m here,” I whisper, my fingers tracing idle patterns along her spine. “You should go back to sleep.”

Her eyes flutter open, silver-grey reflecting gold. She tilts her head up to look at me, and there’s a softness there that makes my chest ache.

“It’s late,” she says, her voice hoarse. “How long have I been out?”

“All day,” I admit.

Her eyes widen slightly and she starts to sit up, but I place a hand on her shoulder, gently keeping her in place.

“Stay,” I say, the word slipping out before I can stop it. “Please.”

She stills, searching my face, and I wonder if she can sense the weight of my thoughts through the bond. I’ve spent the better part of the day unraveling them, trying to make sense of the mess of emotions she’s stirred in me, the memories dredged up by the book she gave me, by my own re-discovered past, by the reading room deep in the archive.

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