Page 34 of Night Fae (Monsters of Veridia #3)

Malik woke to unfamiliar warmth. For a moment, he couldn't place where he was. Then he felt the weight across his midsection, the solid presence at his side, and memory flooded back.

Zev.

Carefully, Malik turned his head. Zev slept beside him, one arm draped across Malik's body. In sleep, the harsh lines of his face had softened. He seemed at peace in a way Malik had never seen him before.

He wanted to reach out and touch his cheek, convince himself that this moment was real, but he didn't want to wake the fae.

As if sensing Malik's thoughts, Zev stirred. His eyes opened—bright, violet, and for once not immediately sharp with alertness. For a precious few seconds, Zev simply looked at Malik with an open, unguarded expression.

Then awareness returned. Zev's eyes widened slightly, but instead of pulling away as Malik half-expected, his arm tightened almost imperceptibly.

"You're still here," Zev said, his voice rough with sleep.

"Where else would I be?" Malik asked.

A shadow passed across Zev's face. "The Fields... I thought perhaps..."

"That was real," Malik confirmed. "But so is this."

Zev's gaze traveled to the bandages visible above the blanket. He reached out, fingers hovering just above the edge of the poultice. "How does it feel?"

"Better. Still strange. Like... pins and needles, but not painful."

"The healer knew what she was doing. Shadow taint can linger without proper treatment."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience."

"In a way." Zev's fingers finally made contact, tracing the edge of the bandage with a touch so light Malik barely felt it. "You can't grow up in the Court without being tainted once or twice."

"And yet, here you are."

The faintest smile touched Zev's lips. "Here I am. Lying in bed with a human who threw himself into the shadow paths to save me."

"When you put it that way, it does sound a bit dramatic."

"It was foolish," Zev agreed, but there was no rebuke in his tone. "And brave. And I—" He paused, seeming to struggle with words that didn't come easily. "I am grateful."

Malik turned onto his side to face Zev fully, ignoring the twinge from his wounds. "You would have done the same for me. You did do the same, in the Night Court."

"That was different. I was?—"

"Protecting me. The same way I was protecting you."

Zev fell silent, his gaze searching Malik's face as if looking for something hidden there. Whatever he sought, he seemed to find it. His hand moved from the bandage to Malik's face, fingers light against his cheek.

"I didn't think," Zev said quietly, "that I would find someone like you."

Malik's heart beat faster. "Someone like me?"

"Stubborn. Reckless." Zev's thumb brushed across Malik's lower lip. "Willing to see past all the crimes I have committed."

"I know they don't define you."

"Rhys claimed that too," Zev admitted.

The comparison should have hurt, but instead, Malik felt a wave of unexpected kinship with the werewolf he'd never met. They had both seen something in Zev worth saving, worth fighting for.

"Tell me about him," Malik said. "Not what happened at the end. Tell me who he was."

Zev's hand stilled. "Why would you want to know that?"

"Because he was important to you. Because he helped shape who you are."

"Didn't you read about that in your book?"

"That was just a story someone else wrote," Malik insisted. "I want to hear it from you."

For a moment, Malik thought he'd pushed too far. Zev's expression closed off, the familiar mask of indifference sliding into place. But then, surprisingly, it fell away again.

"He was... strangely happy," Zev began haltingly.

"Even in darkness. He found joy in simple things.

The first snow of winter, the taste of wild berries, the sound of rain on leaves.

" His voice grew stronger as his expression grew distant.

"He had no patience for formality or pretense.

When I told him my position in the Court, he laughed and said titles were just fancy ways to avoid saying who you really are. "

Malik listened, absorbing every word, every nuance in Zev's voice as he spoke of the man he'd loved and lost.

"He saw through the glamour from the beginning," Zev continued.

"Somehow he could always tell how I really felt.

He was never afraid of me, even when he should have been.

And he'd wait for me in that clearing, no matter how long it took for me to arrive, no matter the weather.

" A hint of wonder entered his voice. "I never understood why. "

"I do," Malik said simply.

Zev's eyes met his, a question in their depths.

"You're worth waiting for," Malik explained.

Something shifted in Zev's expression—a surrender of sorts, the last barrier falling. He moved closer, his hand sliding to the back of Malik's neck, and kissed him.

There was no desperation in this kiss, no frantic need born of fear or impending separation. This was deliberate, an offering freely given. Zev kissed him with a gentleness Malik hadn't known he possessed, as if Malik were something precious that might break under too much pressure.

Malik responded in kind, his hand coming up to trace the pointed tip of Zev's ear, earning a soft intake of breath against his lips.

"Careful," Zev murmured against his mouth. "You're injured."

"I'm fine," Malik countered, fingers continuing their exploration.

Zev caught his wrist, pulling back enough to look into his eyes. "Your wounds?—"

"Will heal." Malik twisted his hand in Zev's grasp until their fingers intertwined. "I didn't follow you into the shadow paths to lie here and do nothing when I finally have you to myself."

A hint of amusement flickered in Zev's violet eyes. "You have me," he acknowledged, voice dropping lower. "But the question is what you plan to do with me."

The teasing note in his voice was new—a playfulness Malik had never heard from him before. It emboldened him. He pushed against Zev's chest, gently but firmly, until the fae was on his back with Malik leaning over him.

"I have some ideas," Malik said.

The movement pulled at his wounds, and he couldn't quite suppress a wince. Immediately, Zev's expression changed from desire to concern.

"You're in pain."

"Worth it," Malik insisted, but Zev was already shifting, reversing their positions with such care that Malik barely felt the movement until he was the one on his back, Zev poised above him.

"Let me," Zev said, his voice soft but commanding. "I still have my strength. You need time to recover yours."

There was logic in that argument that Malik couldn't deny, especially when Zev's lips found the sensitive spot below his ear, trailing down the side of his neck. He let out a shuddering breath as he felt the press of teeth against skin, not a bite, but the hint of one.

Zev continued his descent downward, and in a moment, his tongue circled Malik's nipple, drawing it into his mouth. The warm suction sent heat straight to Malik's groin, hardening him. He arched his back, seeking more contact.

He was so distracted by the feel of Zev's mouth that he missed his fingers working the buttons of his pants until cool air brushed bare skin. Then Zev's hand wrapped around his cock, thumb stroking the head in a way that had him biting back a cry.

Zev lifted himself onto one elbow, free hand brushing lightly across Malik's stomach, avoiding the bandaged areas. His gaze swept across Malik, taking in every detail, and he looked almost hungry in his appraisal. As if he were committing Malik to memory, savoring the sight before him.

Again, Malik had the strange notion that the pull between them wasn't purely physical--not even purely emotional either. There was something else too. The magic Zev had mentioned. The bond that connected them, drawing them together.

"What is it?" Zev asked quietly.

Malik blinked, realizing that he'd been staring at Zev without saying anything. "Nothing." He reached up, pulling Zev's face closer for a brief kiss. "Just... thinking."

He didn't say what those thoughts entailed, but somehow, Zev seemed to guess.

Or maybe Malik was right—maybe it wasn't only him who felt this connection.

Zev's expression softened as he kissed Malik again, deeper, longer.

His hand resumed its slow strokes along Malik's length.

When his thumb slid over the head again, spreading the precum leaking from the tip and making everything slicker, Malik groaned against his mouth.

He could feel the answering press of Zev's erection against his hip—heated, insistent, begging for attention. He tried to reach for him, to return the pleasure he was experiencing, but Zev pulled away slightly, denying him access. He shook his head when Malik made a sound of protest.

"You can repay me later," he whispered huskily, punctuating his words with another stroke. "Right now, I want only this. I want to watch you come undone."

And there was nothing for Malik to do except close his eyes and submit—surrendering to the sensations as Zev's hand continued its attempt to make Malik unravel.

The rhythmic motion of his hand soon became too much, sending him spiraling upward toward climax.

But it wasn't just that—there was the scent of Zev filling his nose, the heat of his body, the soft sound of breathing and rustling sheets.

The intimacy of sharing something so simple, yet so intimate, was nearly overwhelming after all that had passed between them.

Malik came with a gasp, hips thrusting into Zev's hand. Zev stroked him through his release, prolonging the sensation until Malik collapsed against the mattress, breathless and spent.

He lay there for a long moment as the last waves of pleasure faded, leaving behind a deep-seated contentedness that went beyond the satisfaction of his orgasm.

"We'll have to change your dressing," Zev murmured, his breath warm against Malik's skin.