Page 43 of Night Fae (Monsters of Veridia #3)

Six months after returning to Earth, Malik's mansion felt like a different place. Pictures of his family still hung on the walls, but others had joined them. Snapshots of new friends, of the life he was building with Zev.

Malik glanced at them as he hurried down the hallway, arms laden with campaign notes, dice, and meticulously painted miniatures.

His custom game master screen—purchased during those empty, lonely months after the accident—was tucked under one arm.

From the kitchen came the unmistakable scent of pizza.

Four different kinds, because no one could agree on toppings.

"Zev?" he called out. "They'll be here in twenty minutes!"

No response. Frowning, Malik set his burden down on the dining room table and went in search of his partner.

He found Zev in the kitchen, standing completely motionless in front of the high-tech refrigerator. The appliance's touchscreen display was flashing with a digital message while making occasional beeping sounds. Zev stared at it with the intensity of someone facing a dangerous opponent.

"Not again," Malik sighed.

"It won't stop," Zev stated flatly, never taking his eyes off the device. "Every thirty seconds, it lights up and makes that noise."

"That's just a water filter alert. It needs changing."

"Is that so?" Zev's tone made it clear he remained unconvinced. "Your devices are unnecessarily demanding."

Malik approached, slipping his hand into Zev's and tugging gently. "Come on. I'll show you how to clear the alert."

"I know how to clear it," Zev retorted, but his defensiveness carried no bite. "I simply don't trust that it won't start again the moment I turn my back."

"The mighty fae warrior, defeated by household electronics."

A muscle twitched in Zev's jaw, but Malik caught the gleam of amusement in his eyes. Half a year of living together had taught them both when the other was truly annoyed versus playing along.

"Fine." Zev reached for the control panel. "But if it starts beeping again after I clear this alert, I make no promises about its continued existence."

Malik moved to retrieve the replacement filter from under the sink. "If it keeps beeping after we change the filter, I'll let you destroy it."

Zev looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Really?"

"No." Malik laughed at Zev's expression. "But you can pick the movie tomorrow night."

The doorbell rang just then. Malik pressed a quick kiss to Zev's cheek before greeting their friends.

Adrian and Knox were the first to arrive, bearing drinks and dessert. Adrian embraced Malik warmly while Knox offered a nod that, for him, counted as effusive greeting.

"How's the Jahan Foundation?" Adrian asked as they moved to the living room.

"Growing faster than I expected," Malik replied. "We've secured three properties for youth housing and hired staff for the first counseling center."

"He's working too hard," Zev commented, joining them. "The foundation won't collapse if he takes a day off."

The doorbell rang again, this time announcing Daniel and Caelen's arrival. Daniel bounded in with his usual energy, hugging everyone except Zev, who received a bright smile and a friendly pat instead.

Caelen followed with more restraint, looking oddly elegant in fitted jeans and a black button-down.

"Leon texted," Daniel announced, checking his phone. "He's running late. Something about traffic."

"And Lyrian?" Adrian asked.

"Fashionably late as always."

They migrated downstairs to the gaming room, where Malik had a custom table for his games with inbuilt dice trays.

"You have the best set-up," Adrian observed, picking up some of the dice that lay on the table.

"After the accident," Malik said, arranging his notes, "D&D became my escape. Easier to manage fantasy worlds than face the real one." A small, self-deprecating smile crossed his face. "At one point I ran five different campaigns with random groups I found online."

"And now?" Adrian asked gently.

Malik glanced toward Zev, who was setting down the last pizza box. "Now I don't need to escape. But I still love the game."

Zev drew Malik against his side. "If it brings you joy, it's a good game," he said, even though he still didn't understand the rules, no matter how many times Malik tried to explain.

By the time Lyrian finally strode in and Leon followed twenty minutes later (apologizing profusely about traffic), the group had settled around the table with character sheets, dice, and food.

"Before we start," Daniel asked, reaching for his character sheet, "did everyone come up with back stories for their characters?"

"I'm still not convinced my character needs a backstory," Knox said, examining his sheet with narrowed eyes.

"Everyone needs a backstory!" Daniel protested.

Adrian patted Knox's arm. "Your rogue can just be mysterious. It fits."

"I've optimized for maximum sneak attack damage," Knox added, with just enough pride to betray his investment.

Daniel clutched his heart dramatically. "My bard comes from a long line of performers who lost everything when their ancestral theater burned down during a rival family's sabotage attempt..."

"We know," everyone except Caelen chorused.

"You've told us three times," Lyrian added.

"It's important context for my motivations!" Daniel defended.

Leon opened his folder. "My wizard's primary goal is cataloging magical phenomena across multiple planes, which aligns with my personal interests in?—"

"Nerd," Daniel interrupted with a smile.

Malik cleared his throat, slipping easily into the game master voice that had guided him through his darkest days. "If everyone's ready?"

The group quieted, focusing on Malik as he began to weave the tale of their adventure. "Your party finds itself in the coastal town of Silverbrook, where locals speak of strange lights seen over the ancient ruins to the north..."

Malik had run countless campaigns during those years of grief and isolation, creating increasingly colorful worlds as a refuge from his own pain. But nothing could have prepared him for the chaos that this particular group laid to his plans.

Within twenty minutes, Daniel's bard had attempted to seduce an innkeeper, Knox's rogue had gotten arrested for stealing from the town mayor, and Lyrian's druid had accidentally set fire to a stable while trying to impress the horses.

"I still don't understand why we can't resolve this with diplomacy," Caelen's paladin declared after Zev suggested breaking into the mayor's house to force him to release Knox.

"Because Adrian's cleric already punched the guard captain," Knox pointed out.

Adrian looked sheepish. "He was rude to an old lady!"

Malik tried to maintain control of the narrative, but soon gave up and simply adapted to their unpredictable choices.

When Zev rolled his first natural twenty to intimidate a group of bandits, he examined the dice with satisfaction. "I like this game."

"You get it now?" Malik asked.

"I get that this means I win," Zev replied, indicating the twenty. "I like that."

Hours flew by. Pizza boxes emptied, character dynamics evolved, and even Caelen became invested enough to argue with Knox about proper tactics.

Lyrian expressed interest in being the game master for the next session, and Daniel documented everything with excessive notes for his character's "memoirs. "

Near midnight, as the adventure reached a natural pause, Malik looked around the table at his friends—his family—and felt something settle in his chest. These people from two worlds, once strangers thrust together by chaos and danger, now gathered around his table for nothing more serious than shared stories and laughter.

Later, after everyone had left with promises to continue the campaign next week, Malik and Zev stood in the quiet kitchen.

"Did you enjoy it?" Malik asked, loading plates into the dishwasher.

Zev leaned against the counter, violet eyes thoughtful. "It was... illuminating."

"Illuminating?"

"To see them all like this. At peace." He crossed his arms, an unconscious habit when processing emotions. "Next to me, Knox used to be one of the Court's most valuable weapons. Now he argues about fictional tactics while eating pepperoni pizza."

Malik closed the dishwasher and straightened. "People change."

"Yes," Zev agreed softly. "They do."

They moved through the house, turning off lights and locking doors—a domestic ritual that had become comfortable over the past months.

As they passed the kitchen, Zev eyed the refrigerator with what might have been a nod of grudging respect.

At least for tonight, it had remained obediently silent after the filter change.

In their bedroom, Malik sat on the edge of the bed, watching as Zev methodically removed weapons that, despite Malik's protests, he still carried even on Earth. Old habits died hard.

"The Jahan Foundation received official nonprofit status today," Malik said. "We can start accepting major donations next week."

"That's good news." Zev placed a dagger on the nightstand. "What does that mean for your schedule?"

"More meetings. Press conferences eventually." Malik hesitated. "Will you come with me? To some of them?"

Zev stilled, turning to look at him. "You want me there?"

"Of course I do."

Something vulnerable flickered across Zev's face before he controlled it. "I'm not exactly a comforting presence for traumatized youths."

"That's where you're wrong." Malik rose, crossing to Zev. "You understand survival in a way few do. You understand what it means to rebuild yourself from nothing." He took Zev's hands in his. "Besides, I need you there."

Zev's fingers tightened around his. "Then I'll be there."

They remained like that for a moment, the simple contact conveying more than words could.

"Did you ever imagine this?" Malik asked eventually. "When we were prisoners in the Night Court?"

Zev's mouth quirked. "That I'd be living on Earth, playing games with the Shadow King, and battling household appliances?" His expression grew more serious. "No. I imagined either our deaths or an existence of constant running."

"And now?"

"Now," Zev said, drawing Malik closer, "I imagine many more game nights. More foundation launches. More bratty appliances."

"More us," Malik supplied.

Zev nodded, the movement almost imperceptible. "More us."

Zev kissed Malik softly, then with growing intensity. As they moved toward the bed, a beep sounded from downstairs.

Zev froze. "The dishwasher," he growled.

Malik laughed, pulling him back. "It's just finishing its cycle. Ignore it."

"Your appliances have terrible timing," Zev murmured against Malik's lips.

"Let them," Malik whispered back. "We have better things to focus on."

The dishwasher beeped its cycle-complete tone once more, then fell silent, as if conceding the point. Tonight, at least, the household technologies would not disturb their peace.

They had earned it.