Page 32 of Night Fae

Tomorrow, he would kill again. More wolves who were only trying to understand what was happening to their world.

What a waste.

When he tried not to think of that, his thoughts circled back to Malik. What had the guards done to him? How badly had they hurt him despite Zev's sacrifice? The uncertainty gnawed at him.

He should have checked on the human after all.

Maybe he still could.

Not in the waking world, but he was a night fae, and he'd entered Malik's dreamspace before. It wouldn't be easy with his magic as depleted as it was, but the human was unlikely to try to shut him out, which would help.

Zev settled onto the bed, arranging himself comfortably. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing, on the rhythm of his heartbeat. Gradually, he extended his awareness beyond his own body, beyond the physical constraints of the room.

The palace around him teemed with sleeping minds—guards drowsing at their posts, servants collapsed after long days of labor, nobles dreaming of power and gold, minds closed to him. Zev moved past them all, searching for the distinctive texture of Malik's consciousness.

There—a warm glow several corridors away, but disturbed, rippling with distress. Malik was dreaming, but not peacefully. The edges of his consciousness pulsed with terror.

Another nightmare.

Of course.

Zev hesitated. The taste of Malik's nightmare brushed against his senses—rich with emotion, potent with pain. The kind of nightmare that would nourish a night fae for days. Butthere would be consequences if he gorged himself on Malik's nightmares. He had to remember that.

Never mind that he'd meant tocheckon the human, not feed on him.

Maybe this was not the right time.

Zev nearly pulled back, nearly severed the tentative connection between them. But beneath the nightmare's distress, he sensed something else—Malik reaching out to him, almost as if he could sense that Zev was there, lingering at the edge of his consciousness.

Almost as if he wascallingfor Zev.

A silly thought.

And yet…

Taking a steadying breath, Zev gathered his power and slipped into Malik's dream, carefully, gently, determined not to feed on the nightmare even as its flavors washed over him.

The dreamscape materialized around him. A twisted version of the car crash Malik had survived. But unlike the previous nightmare, this one had merged with their current predicament. The wrecked car sat in the middle of a Night Court chamber. Prince Ashelon stood over the vehicle, his silver eyes gleaming as he reached for Malik, who remained trapped in the twisted metal.

"You'll never escape," the Prince was saying, his voice distorted and too deep for reality. "Your friends abandoned you. No one is coming for you."

In the back seat of the car, the bodies of Malik's family stirred unnaturally, their limbs bending at painful angles as they turned toward him with lifeless eyes.

"You should have died with us," they chanted in eerie unison. "You should have died with us."

Malik struggled against his seatbelt, panic evident in every line of his body. "I'm sorry," he gasped. "I'm so sorry."

Zev moved without thinking, pushing past the dream-version of the Prince, who dissipated like smoke at his touch. He reached the car door and yanked it open.

"Malik," he said firmly. "This isn't real. You're dreaming."

Malik's eyes found his. He had such expressive eyes, clearly reflecting his terror, as well as the confused hope that replaced it. "Zev? Zev! It's really you, isn't it?"

"Yes, I'm here." Zev cut the seatbelt that trapped Malik. "This is a nightmare. None of it is real."

The dream-corpses in the back seat hissed at Zev's interference, their features melting and reforming until they looked like wolves.

How odd.