Page 23 of Night Fae (Monsters of Veridia #3)

"We leave at dawn," Caelen announced, breaking the moment. "Be sure to make all necessary preparations."

The meeting dispersed quickly. Everyone had things to do, it seemed. Malik remained seated, unsure how steady he would be on his feet if he got up.

Zev stayed by his side.

When they were alone in the council chamber, Malik spoke again. "Help me back to my room?"

Zev offered his arm without comment. Malik slid his hand into the crook of Zev's elbow, hyperaware of the solid muscle beneath his fingers.

The contact sent warmth spreading up his arm as Zev supported him through the corridors, but it wasn't until they reached Malik's chamber and the door closed behind them that Malik found his voice again.

"The Fields of Memories," he said quietly as Zev helped him to the edge of the bed. "You know what that place does, right?"

Zev released him, stepping back to create distance between them. "I'm aware."

"Your memories, Zev." Malik looked up at him. He didn't want to say these things out loud, but he had to make sure that Zev was aware of what he'd signed up for.

If the Fields were anything like what Malik had read about them…

They wouldn't be kind to Zev.

"After everything you've been through..."

Zev turned toward the window, profile sharp against the afternoon light. "I can handle my own memories."

Malik wasn't so convinced. He didn't want to argue with the fae, but he wasn't going to let him pretend that everything would be okay either. "I know you can't lie, which means you actually believe that. That is what scares me."

Zev looked at him. "You think you know me better than I know myself?"

Malik forced himself to hold the assassin's gaze. "You'll see Rhys there."

Zev went rigid. "You don't know that."

"The Fields make memories real," Malik insisted. "You could be drawn into a memory you don't want to come out of."

"No." Zev's shoulders lost a bit of that tension. "Nothing there is real. I know that."

Malik pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the weakness in his legs. He approached Zev slowly, drawn toward him by an impulse that was stronger than self-preservation. "I'm worried about you."

Something flickered across Zev's face—as if he was surprised at Malik's directness. His eyes darkened as he studied Malik's expression.

"Worry about yourself." His words came out harsh but lacked their usual bite.

"I'm not the one walking into a place designed to weaponize memories." Malik took another step closer, close enough now that he could see the slight pulse at Zev's throat. "You've been through hell already."

Zev's jaw tightened. "We've all been through hell."

"But not all of us have to face it again tomorrow."

The air between them seemed charged, making it impossible for Malik to move any more. His pulse sped up impossibly, but he refused to back down, to look away. For once, Zev was the first to break eye contact.

"I need to do this." His voice dropped lower. "The Night Court has to pay for what they did."

"To you? Or to Rhys?"

Zev's head snapped up, eyes flashing with sudden anger. "Don't."

"Do you plan to avoid the topic forever?"

"That doesn't concern you." Zev stepped away, trying to create distance between them again.

This time, though, Malik didn't let him. He followed. "It concerns me that you're willing to walk into a place that might break you."

"I won't break."

"Everyone breaks, Zev." Malik reached for him, fingers brushing against the fae's arm before Zev pulled away. "Even you."

Zev moved to face the window, hands braced against the stone sill. "What would you have me do? Stay here? Let the others face this without me?"

"I just want you to think about why you're doing this. And if your revenge is worth dying for."

The silence that followed felt heavier than any they'd shared before. Malik watched the set of Zev's shoulders, the rigid line of his spine. When Zev finally turned, his expression was unreadable.

"Some things are."

Their gazes locked. Malik couldn't breathe, couldn't look away. "Not to me." His words were a whisper. "I don't want to lose you. I want something better for you."

Something changed in Zev's eyes then. His features softened. He lifted a hand, hesitated, then let his fingers brush against Malik's cheek with unexpected gentleness. "I don't know why you care so much," he said. Lower, he added, "I never understood why he cared either."

Malik leaned into the touch before he could stop himself. "You're worth caring about."

Zev's hand fell away, but he remained close. "Why?"

"Because you're strong and brave, and I know you're hiding a kind heart underneath all your bullshit." Malik licked his lips. "Because I might not see you again."

The truth of those words hung in the air between them.

The fae's gaze dropped to his lips, lingering there with an intensity that made Malik's breath catch. "Why me?"

"Because when I'm with you, I feel like I might have survived for a reason." The truth tumbled from Malik's lips before he could second-guess himself. "Like maybe all that pain meant something after all."

Zev stared at him, stunned into silence. Then he brushed his thumb across Malik's lower lip. "What if I'm not worth that meaning?"

"You are," Malik whispered fiercely, his hand finding purchase on Zev's chest, feeling the rapid beat of the fae's heart beneath his palm. "You are."

Something broke in Zev's expression—resistance crumbling into raw need. His hand shot up, fingers tangling in Malik's hair, gripping almost painfully tight as he pulled Malik toward him.

This wasn't like the previous kisses—not the gentle contact when Zev had entered his dreams, not the hungry feeding when he'd drawn on Malik's power. This was different. This was wanting.

Malik didn't know how to process that. He didn't think Zev wanted him. He didn't think…

He didn't think at all as Zev's tongue swiped his lips.

He gasped against Zev's mouth, and Zev took advantage, deepening the kiss with a low sound that might have been a growl. His other arm snaked around Malik's waist, pulling him flush against the hard planes of his body.

The world narrowed to sensation—the firmness of Zev's muscles, the taste of night air and something distinctly fae on his tongue, the impossible heat radiating between them.

Malik's knees threatened to buckle, but Zev held him upright, pressing him back until Malik's shoulders met the cold stone wall.

The contrast of temperatures—Zev's burning heat against his front, the chill of stone against his back—sent a shiver racing down Malik's spine.

Zev broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he stared down at Malik with eyes that glowed like violet stars in the growing darkness.

"You're still weak," Zev whispered against his lips, though his actions contradicted his concern as he pressed Malik harder against the wall.

"I don't care." Malik's fingers curled into the fabric of Zev's shirt, anchoring himself to the fae warrior. "Let me give you one good memory. Something for you to come back to."