Page 34 of Night Fae

"Malik!" Zev’s voice was distant, already fading.

Malik’s body jolted as if he'd just missed a step going down the stairs, and then?—

His eyes snapped open.

His breath came fast, his heart slamming against his ribs. He was in a bed, an unfamiliar bed, silken sheets cool beneath his fingers, the lingering warmth of the dream still curling around his skin. He stared at the ceiling, pulse pounding in his ears, the sensation of Zev’s lips still there, like a phantom touch.

He lifted a trembling hand to his mouth. "Oh my God."

The realization hit him all over again, crashing down on him like a landslide of mortification.

He had kissed Zev. He had kissed Zev. In a dream, sure, but Zev had been real. Zev hadbeen there. He had felt it. He had…

"Nope. Nope nope nope nope." Malik muttered, rolling onto his stomach and burying his face into the pillow. "I did not just do that. I refuse to believe that."

The problem was, refusing reality would not erase what he'd done.

Malik groaned into the pillow, muffling a string of curses. He would never be able to look Zev in the eye again.

A knock at the door made him jump. "Human," a voice called. One of the guards. "You’re going out today. Get up and get dressed."

Right. He was still in the Night Court’s hands.

Malik pushed himself upright with a deep breath.

There were bigger problems than Zev knowing about his pathetic crush.

CHAPTER 8

The door to Malik's chamber burst open just as he was done dressing, putting on pants and a simple black tunic that had been provided for him.

Two guards burst in.

"Come with us."

Malik blinked at them. Where did they want him to go?

"Move." A hand between his shoulder blades pushed him toward the door.

They marched him through unfamiliar corridors. The palace seemed even bigger in the pre-dawn hours, shadows stretching across marble floors and up ornate walls. Malik tried to map their route in his head but quickly lost track of the twists and turns.

Were they going to take him to Prince Ashelon's chambers? The thought made him shiver. He'd managed to keep his composure last time, but the Prince had barely begun to play with him. Who knew what he might do next?

Instead of moving toward the Prince's chambers, though, they descended a wide staircase and emerged into a courtyard where morning mist clung to vibrant green hedges. A carriage waited, its ebony surface gleaming with inlaid silver. Four horses stood in their traces.

They were beautiful creatures.

Under different circumstances, Malik might have been tempted to try to pet them.

One of the guards opened the carriage door. "Inside."

Malik hesitated. "Where are you taking me?"

The guard's expression didn't change. He simply grabbed Malik's arm and propelled him forward, all but tossing him into the carriage.

The interior was plush and claustrophobic, all deep blues and midnight blacks. Two people waited inside. Lord Darius, Zev's father, sat with his back straight, his angular face devoid of warmth. Across from him was an elegant, older fae woman. Her silver hair was elaborately braided with tiny jewels that caught the light, and her eyes—Zev's eyes, but colder—studied him with clinical interest.

Malik suppressed a shiver.