Page 104 of Night Fae

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 offeringfreely 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.