Page 80 of The Alien in the Archive

I frown, reaching up to rub my eyes as I’m barraged by memories once again. They’re still chaotic and cluttered; I’ll need time to put them in order.

“Working on the chronicle, writing it all out…it’s brought very old memories to the surface,” I mutter. “Things I’d forgotten entirely, because our minds weren’t made to hold this many lifetimes. But this…” I look around, up at the ceiling, across to a detailed mosaic on the other side of the wall. It depicts a council of various species, some I don’t even recognize—possibly extinct now. “I was here. I don’t have all the details yet, but I know I washere.”

The realization stirs something within me…wonder, grief. Suddenly, I’m somehow both more and less angry at myself for my past sins.

Page takes a step toward me, capturing my attention when she takes my hand. “Thorne, you…you should besoproud of this. You helped build the Grand Library.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Pride isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

“This, though,” she says, taking my other hand, moving closer. Her eyes glimmer with an intensity that makes it impossible to look away, even surrounded by the majesty of the ancient reading room. “It’s beautiful.”

The warmth of her touch sends a shiver through me, and I turn to face her fully.

I should be caught in the weight of this moment, the discovery of something I thought was lost forever. The past I’d resigned myself to forgetting. But as I look into Page’s eyes, everything else fades away. The wonder, the grief—and yes, even the pride—it all pales in comparison to her. To the future standing before me, more real than anything I’ve ever known.

The only being I’ve ever truly loved.

“I need you,” I rasp, voice cracking at my desperation for her.

“You’ve got me,” she replies.

Then I’m pulling her in and kissing her hard, holding her to me…and I know that it’s high time I fulfilled my promise.

The past can wait a little longer; she’s what’s important right now.

30

PAGE

It’s finally happening.

The culmination of all our need, all the longing, all the nights yearning for him while he yearned for me. Our minds collide, become entangled, and I can feeleverything.

How much he’s wanted me, how difficult it’s been to hold back. How he’s tried so desperately to say no when everything in us has been screaming to say yes.

I grab the lapels of his threadbare button-up, gasping for breath in the space between kisses. We’ve barely done a thing, all we’ve done is kiss…but I’m already shaking, my hands trembling. Thorne reaches up to take my hands in his, helping me calm down, meeting my eyes.

Then, wordlessly, he begins to unbutton his shirt, revealing the alabaster plane of his chest, his breastbone, hard, dark nipples surrounded by muscle. It’s like he’s carved from marble, and I’m a sunbeam—everywhere I touch him, he warms up nearly instantly. Subtle veins of silver pulse beneath his skin, his abdomen—oh God, his shirt is opennow and I’m seeing him, touching him, spreading my hands wide across bare flesh.

“Page,” he groans, voice hoarse and cracking. His hands move back to my face, kissing my mouth, then my cheek, then down my neck and collarbone. I push his shirt from his shoulders, leaving it on the pristine frostglass floor. “Tell me to stop.”

“Don’t stop,” I gasp. “Don’t ever stop.”

He stoops to reach further, then his arms are around me and I’m wrapping my limbs around him, clinging to him. He carries me to one of the plush couches lining the circular room, still kissing me. I feel cold when I’m parted from him, but I think it helps him get some composure, because he pauses and looks down at me.

“You’re stunning,” I whisper. “Thorne…please?—”

He kneels before me and reaches for the hem of my shirt. I raise my arms over my head, lose sight of him for a moment; then he’s there again, looking me over. All I have on today is a lace bralette, my nipples hard and visible underneath it. He cups my breasts with his big hands, long fingers finding the peaks.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he tells me, and it means even more when we’re in this place, this ancient reading room that I think is far more beautiful than I could ever be.

I reach behind me to unclasp my bra, wanting to touch him, skin to skin. I’ve had enough of hiding from him, waiting, teasing—this moment, right now, is for us to come together completely. He makes a deep, masculine noise as I toss the bra away, tangling my fingers in his hair and biting my lip.

“Will you…” I start.

I don’t have to finish my sentence; he already knows what I like.

Thorne extends his dusky pink tongue to lick one nipple, then the other, black and silver eyes fixed on me, hooded with lust. I watch as he moves slowly, savoring every taste of me, every shared sensation. I moan, breathing shallow, and I start to tremble again.

---