Page 96 of Night Fae
"I know." Rhys pressed his forehead against Zev's. "I've been waiting."
Time meant nothing here. Had it been minutes or hours since he'd confessed to killing a werewolf from Rhys's pack? The memory should have brought pain, but instead, it faded like mist in sunlight, replaced by the warmth of Rhys's forgiveness.
"You always knew what I was," Zev said.
"I knew what they made you," Rhys corrected. His fingers traced the curve of Zev's ear, the line of his jaw. Familiar touches that Zev had thought lost forever. "And I knew what you could become."
A distant part of Zev's mind registered that something wasn't right. The silver grass beneath them glowed too brightly. The air tasted of nothing—no pine resin, no earthy scents of the forest. But he pushed the doubts away.
They were inconsequential.
"Tell me again," Zev said, "about the cabin you wanted to build."
Rhys smiled, something flickering behind his eyes. "The one by the lake?"
Zev frowned. "The one in the mountains. You said we'd... we'd build it where no one would find us."
"Yes, of course. The mountain cabin." Rhys's smile never faltered. "With a stone hearth and windows facing east to catch the sunrise."
But that wasn't right either. Rhys had wanted western windows to watch the sunset. He'd been specific about that—said the sunset reminded him of Zev's eyes glowing in the dark.
A sudden cold crept through Zev's veins.
"That's not what you said," he murmured.
Rhys's hands tightened on his arms. "Does it matter? We're together now."
"It matters." Zev pulled back slightly, studying Rhys's face. Perfect and familiar in every detail, and yet... "The cabin in the mountains. West-facing windows."
"That's what I meant."
"No, you didn't."
The air around them thickened. Behind Rhys, the tree's branches seemed to twist, reaching downward like grasping fingers.
"Why are you doing this?" Rhys asked, his voice taking on an unfamiliar edge. "Aren't you happy to see me?"
"I am. But you're not?—"
"Zev!"
A new voice cut through the silver haze. Zev's head snapped up, searching for its source.
"You're ignoring me now?" Rhys cupped Zev's face, turning it back toward him.
But Zev had heard that voice. Impossible as it seemed, he'd heard?—
"ZEV!"
Malik. It was Malik's voice, calling to him from somewhere beyond the clearing. Zev tried to rise, but his limbs were so heavy.
"He's not real," Rhys whispered, his breath unnaturally cold against Zev's ear. "I'm the only real thing here. Stay with me."
Was that true? Could Malik's voice be an illusion?
But what if it wasn't?
"After everything we meant to each other, you'd choose him?" Rhys's voice dropped lower, taking on a hurt tone that pierced Zev's heart. "Some human boy you barely know over what we had?"
