Page 8 of Night Fae (Monsters of Veridia #3)

Blood never quite washed away like other stains.

Zev scrubbed his hands raw under the stream of icy water in the small washroom. No matter how many times he rinsed them, he still saw crimson beneath his fingernails—which was ridiculous. The way he'd carried out his kill, there shouldn't have been any blood under his fingernails.

But Zev couldn't stop seeing it there anyway.

"You're the one who ran with my pack."

The memory sliced through his mental defenses. Zev shut his eyes, forcing it away. He couldn't think about that now. Couldn't dwell on the young werewolf's face, on how his eyes had dimmed as life drained away. On how much he'd looked like?—

No.

Zev's stomach churned. He bent over the basin, certain he would be sick, but nothing came. He'd emptied himself in a shadowed corner shortly after leaving the execution chamber, his father pretending not to notice the weakness.

The Night Court had always excelled at strategic blindness.

Rage coiled beneath his skin, warring with disgust. If Malik hadn't been transported here, if Zev hadn't felt compelled to save him…

Zev wouldn't be back in his family's clutches. He wouldn't have another werewolf's blood on his hands. He wouldn't have just betrayed every promise he'd made to Rhys's memory.

All because of a human who had no business being in Veridia in the first place.

The thought was poison, bitter and unfair, but Zev couldn't stop it. Couldn't stop the resentment from flooding through him. Soon he would face Malik, and these emotions—this rage, this blame—they would spill out, toxic and venomous.

Unless he found some way to get himself under control.

Zev stared at his reflection, at the violet eyes that marked his heritage. His glamour had fallen away without his notice. When had that happened? During the execution? After?

Did it matter?

He was returning to his true fae self, step by step, and maybe that was the solution to his problem.

Zev closed his eyes and reached deep inside himself, past the grief and rage, reached for his cold, empty core that had allowed him to be Veridia's most deadly assassin for most of his life.

Feel nothing. Be nothing. Want nothing.

The mantra was still familiar, still comforting. He did not have to handle all these damn feelings he wasn't equipped to handle.

Feel nothing. Be nothing. Want nothing.

He focused on his breath, on the emptiness between heartbeats. With each exhale, he pushed away a fragment of emotion—grief into the shadows, rage into the void, guilt into nothingness. He pulled darkness around his heart like armor.

Rhys would hate seeing him like this again.

The thought was almost enough to break his focus.

But Rhys wasn't here now. Rhys would never be here again, and Zev had no other way to stop himself from flying off the handle.

When he opened his eyes again, his reflection showed a stranger. The glamour hadn't returned—his violet eyes still gleamed—but something else had changed. His gaze was empty, devoid of the pain that had ravaged him moments before. His face settled into lines of cold indifference.

A sharp rap at the door signaled the guards' arrival.

"Lord Zevran, your presence is requested in the blue chamber," a muffled voice called.

"I'll be right there," Zev answered.

He straightened his borrowed clothes, squared his shoulders, and embraced the cold void within. By the time he reached the door, nothing of the broken creature who had scrubbed blood from his hands remained.

The walk to the blue chamber felt endless. Guards flanked him, but Zev paid them no attention. He was focused only on himself, on each step he took and every one that followed.

At the chamber door, he paused. Malik waited on the other side. The human whose life now depended on Zev's willingness to become everything he once despised.

The human who knew nothing of the price Zev had just paid for their continued survival.

The blue chamber lived up to its name. Sapphire drapes hung from ceiling to floor, casting the entire room in a submarine glow.

Malik paced the perimeter for what felt like the hundredth time, running his fingers along the cool stone walls.

The chamber was beautiful, with a mosaic depicting the night sky covering the ceiling, but it remained a prison.

Hours had passed since the prince's guards had deposited him here. They'd brought food—a platter of fruits and bread that Malik hadn't touched, remembering Zev's warning about court hospitality. His stomach growled in protest, but hunger was preferable to whatever poison might be in the food.

The heavy door creaked, and Malik spun toward it. Relief flooded through him as he saw who came to visit him.

Zev!

He was alive.

And unharmed, at least physically.

The night fae warrior stood rigidly by the door, making no move to approach. Something felt off about him, though Malik couldn't quite place his finger on what.

In Malik's dream, he'd said his father would try to break him.

Had Lord Darius continued his cruel work while Malik was stuck in this chamber?

"Zev?" Malik stepped forward, then stopped when Zev stiffened further. "What happened?"

"They're allowing us a brief visit," Zev said, his voice flat. "To prove you're unharmed."

Malik studied him from head to toe. Zev always seemed closed off. It was part of his persona, and having read his backstory in Monsters of Veridia , Malik understood why he behaved the way he did.

But Zev seemed even more closed off than usual now.

"I'm fine," Malik said, though it hardly mattered at the moment. "I'm more worried about you."

Something dangerous flashed across Zev's face. A momentary crack in his mask. What was he hiding beneath it? What was going on with him?

"What did they do to you?" Malik asked quietly.

Zev's jaw tightened. "They did not do anything to me."

Malik wasn't sure he believed that, but he also knew that Zev could not tell an outright lie. Nothing had been done to Zev.

So then…

"Did they make you do something?"

"Why do you want to know?"

The coldness in Zev's voice didn't deter Malik. "Because I care what happens to you."

Zev's expression remained impassive, but Malik caught the slight tightening at the corners of his eyes. He looked closer, noticing the raw skin on Zev's hands.

Was that from scrubbing?

But why would Zev be scrubbing his hands so hard?

Could it be…?

"Did they make you hurt someone?"

Zev didn't respond.

Fuck.

"Did they make you kill?"

Still, nothing but damning silence from the beautiful-but-deadly night fae.

Malik took a cautious step forward. "Who was it?"

"What does it matter?" Zev's voice remained detached, empty. "I've killed many people."

"And yet you tried to wash your skin off." Malik gestured to Zev's reddened hands. "Tell me."

"He was an enemy of the Court."

"What kind of enemy?"

Zev's jaw worked silently for a moment. "A werewolf."

Malik's breath caught. A werewolf. The bastards had made him kill a werewolf. Malik couldn't begin to imagine how difficult that must have been for Zev, given his history. Zev's family knew exactly where to twist the knife.

And judging by the way Zev held himself, their actions were getting them exactly what they wanted.

Zev retreating into the shell of an assassin.

"I'm so sorry," Malik said softly. "You should never have been forced to do that."

Something flickered across Zev's face—pain. He suppressed it quickly. His shoulders tensed, and he turned away. "What's done is done."

"But they chose a werewolf deliberately, didn't they?" Malik pressed, taking another step closer. "To hurt you because of?—"

"Stop." The word was clipped, strained.

Malik could see the tension radiating through Zev's body. He was getting annoyed. Maybe even angry.

Good.

He should be angry.

"Rhys would understand what you did," Malik said quietly. "He wouldn't judge you for this."

Zev's hands curled into fists at his sides. His breathing quickened almost imperceptibly.

Malik noticed and knew that he was hitting a weak spot. If he said just a little more… "I know he loved you. I know he'd hate seeing what they're trying to turn you back into."

A switch flipped. Zev whirled around, crossing the distance between them in a blur, seizing Malik by the collar and slamming him against the wall. His violet eyes burned with sudden, violent fury.

"What do you know about Rhys?" Zev snarled, his face inches from Malik's. "How dare you speak his name like you knew him?"

Malik didn't flinch. This was what he'd been pushing for—some kind of real emotion. His heart raced, partly from fear, but partly from something else entirely.

Even furious, Zev was beautiful—all sharp edges and barely contained power. The heat of his body pressed close, the strength in his hands, the intensity in those violet eyes…

This wasn't the time for such thoughts, but Malik couldn't help himself. He'd been drawn to Zev from the moment he'd carried him out of the basement where Caelen had trapped him.

"Reading about someone isn't knowing them," Zev hissed, oblivious to Malik's misplaced admiration. "You didn't see his smile. You didn't hear his laugh." His grip tightened. "You don't know what he would think."

"You're right." Malik maintained eye contact, acutely aware of Zev's breath against his skin. "But I know the Rhys from those stories would have died to prevent exactly this—to keep you from becoming their weapon again."

Zev's grip faltered, and something raw flashed in his eyes.

"That's why they chose a werewolf, isn't it?" Malik insisted. "They're not just testing your loyalty. They're trying to break whatever is left of the person Rhys helped you become."

Zev abruptly released him, turning away. "It doesn't matter why they did it. Only that I did it."

"It matters to me."

"Why?" Zev whirled back. "Why should it matter to you what I've done? What I've become?"

"Because I can see you fighting it," Malik said. "This cold-blooded killer act—it's not you anymore. Not the real you."

"You don't know the real me." Zev's voice dropped to something dangerous and low. "Maybe this is who I truly am. Maybe everything else was the act."

Malik shook his head. "I don't believe that."

"Believe whatever you want. It changes nothing," Zev said in a too-calm tone of voice. "They'll make me kill again. And again. I can't do it without..." He drifted off, gestured vaguely.

"So you're just going to let them win?"

"What else am I supposed to do?" Zev asked. "Let them hurt you? Let the Prince take you?"

"I don't want you to do anything for my sake," Malik said firmly.

"You have no idea what you're saying." Zev's laugh was harsh. "You don't know what the Prince would do to you."

"Actually, I do." Malik's quiet words stopped Zev cold. "I've met him."

Zev's expression shifted to something between disbelief and horror. "What?"

"While you were..." Malik hesitated, "...elsewhere. Prince Ashelon had me brought to his chambers."

Zev stared at him. "What did he do to you?"

"Nothing. Yet." Malik unconsciously rubbed his jaw where the Prince had touched him. "But he made his intentions clear enough."

"Then you understand why I had to agree to their terms."

"I understand why you think you did," Malik countered. "But I don't want to be saved at the cost of your heart and mind."

Zev blinked as if he'd never considered that Malik might not be counting on Zev to save him.

But Malik never wanted another to suffer for his sake. What they were doing to Zev… he wasn't worth that kind of sacrifice. "I offered myself to him, you know."

"What?" Zev's voice dropped to a whisper.

"I told the Prince to let you go free, and I would… be whatever he wanted."

"You didn't."

"I did. He refused, but I would have done it." Malik held Zev's gaze. "I won't be the reason you become something you hate."

Zev didn't seem to know what to do with that response.

A guard called from the other side of the door. "Time's up!"

Zev moved toward the door, but before he could leave, Malik grabbed his arm. "Wait."

Zev raised an expectant eyebrow at him.

"If they do make you kill again…" Malik struggled to find the right words to express what he wanted to say, what he wanted to offer. "Don't lock it away. Don't go numb."

Zev stared at him impassively, obviously not moved by his words. He didn't understand what Malik wanted.

"You can come vent at me." Malik tried to explain. "You can rage at me. Scream. Break something. Whatever you need."

"You don't know what you're asking for."

"I do." Malik held his gaze steadily. "It's better for you to be furious than for you to be killing your emotions."

The door opened. Guards waited impatiently in the corridor.

"I have to go," Zev said.

"Promise me you'll think about it."

Zev pulled his arm from Malik's grasp, his expression unreadable. For a moment, Malik thought he would leave without answering.

"I'll think about it," Zev finally said, so quietly Malik barely heard him.

Then he was gone, the door closing heavily behind him.

Malik exhaled slowly, suddenly aware of how fast his heart was beating. Had he crossed a line? Offered something he shouldn't have? He didn't know.