Page 25 of The Alien in the Archive

Her breath is shallow, her chest rising and falling against mine. One of my hands braces her lower back, the other cradling the back of her head, fingers brushing her soft hair. Her pulse races beneath my touch, mirroring the erratic pounding of my own heart.

A mistake.

But she’s safe.

For that, I’m grateful. And yet, I can’t bring myself to let her go—not yet.

Her eyes are wide, her breath ragged. For a moment neither of us speaks—then she looks up at me.

“I was just thinking about you,” she breathes.

“I know,” I say before I can think better of it.

Her breath hitches, her teeth bite into her lower lip. I can feel the exact moment she realizes what this means–that I was here, watching her, close enough to touch. Her cheeks flush pink, and her thoughts are a chaotic tangle of embarrassment, confusion, and—gods help me—desire.

I set her down gently, stepping back as soon as her feet touch the ground. She stumbles slightly, her balance unsteady, but I don’t reach for her again.

“How long have you been standing there?” she asks, dusting herself off.

“Long enough to save you from your own clumsiness.”

Her lips press into a thin line as she scowls at me. “And you didn’t think to say anything?” she finally says, crossing her arms over her chest. “What, were you planning to stand there all day, lurking in the darkness?”

“I don’t have much of a choicebutto lurk,” I murmur. I look over her shoulder, nervous that another scholar might appear. “Remember? I’m not supposed to be here.”

She looks at me again, and this time, there’s a small smirk on her lips. The tension between us shifts, lightening just enough to let me breathe again.

“Well,” she says, gesturing toward the ladder. “Thanks for the save, I guess.”

“You’re welcome.”

She snorts. “Do you make a habit of watching people work?”

“Only the interesting ones.”

She’s blushing again, and she looks away quickly, herthoughts skittering back toward last night’s dreams. She’s flustered, caught off guard by the compliment, and I can feel a faint flicker of pride beneath her confusion.

I shouldn’t have said that.

I should leave now.

I get my excuse when voices echo from the corridor, and I look back toward my hiding place. “I should be going,” I tell her. “But…”

I pause. This is all a very bad idea.

“I’ll be expecting you later,” I continue. “After most people have gone—then I can take you through the stacks, point you in the direction of the most relevant books.”

Her eyes glitter, the silver of Elixir swirling. “Really?”

“Yes,” I say. “But if you do, you’ll have to promise me one thing.”

Her brow arches. “What’s that?”

“Don’t fall again.”

She smirks…and then shelaughs, and the psychic resonance of it is like drops of cool, refreshing rain falling onto my skin.

“I’ll do my best,” she smiles.

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