Page 24 of Night Fae
"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."
