Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
Corin had gotten really good at pretending over the years.
Pretending not to care when people flinched away from his emotional projections. Pretending not to notice when they whispered about the chaos that followed in his wake. And now, pretending that Azelon's rejection hadn't sliced through him like a blade made of ice.
"Could you pass the salt?" Jamie asked.
Corin blinked, realizing he'd been staring at his plate for who knew how long. He slid the salt shaker across the table, careful not to meet Azelon's eyes from where the Tideborn sat quietly at the far end.
"Thanks," Jamie said, then paused. "You okay?"
"Never better," Corin lied, flashing his brightest smile. "Just admiring your culinary talents. Who knew humans could make pasta taste this good?"
Jamie raised an eyebrow but didn't press.
That was one of the things Corin was coming to appreciate about him.
Jamie didn't poke at wounds unless they were bleeding all over the floor.
Unlike Azelon, who'd spent months pointing out every crack in Corin's control while pretending not to notice the ones in his heart.
The lights in the kitchen flickered briefly. Jamie glanced up, then back at Corin.
"Sorry," Corin muttered. "Still working on the whole 'emotions staying inside where they belong' thing."
"Try your best," Jamie said. "The store seems to be adapting, at least."
It was true. The magical building had turned all the cups around Corin into a matterial that didn't shatter upon impact with the floor. Like it was learning his particular brand of chaos and preparing for it.
"Very accommodating," Azelon commented, speaking for the first time since they'd sat down.
Corin kept his eyes fixed on his plate. "Some things are."
The temperature dropped.
Jamie shot a look between them but said nothing, simply continuing to eat as if the tension wasn't thick enough to cut with the knife he was holding.
Dinner dragged on in awkward silence. Corin pushed food around his plate and tried desperately not to project the maelstrom inside him.
When they finally finished, Corin volunteered to clean up, hoping the mundane task would keep his mind occupied.
"I'll help," Jamie offered.
"No need," Corin said quickly. "You cooked. I can handle a few dishes."
What he didn't say was that he needed the space, needed to not be trapped between Jamie's quiet concern and Azelon's cold distance. He needed to breathe without feeling like he was drowning in emotions he couldn't control.
Jamie seemed to understand anyway. "Alright. I'll be at the front of the store if you need anything."
Azelon rose silently and disappeared into the labyrinth of the building without a word. Corin watched him go from the corner of his eye, hating that he still tracked the Tideborn's movements like a flower following the sun.
Once alone, Corin let out a shaky breath, bracing his hands against the edge of the sink. The silverware rattled slightly as his control wavered.
"Get it together," he muttered to himself. "Just because he admitted he'd rather go back to the people who exiled him than be with you doesn't mean—" He broke off, throat tight.
Didn't mean what, exactly? That Corin wasn't worth the sacrifice? That whatever had grown between them over eight months of travel and nightmares and cautious trust wasn't enough?
It shouldn't hurt this much, should it?
In truth, Azelon had never promised him anything.
But he'd been there, night after night, a solid presence when the darkness closed in. A lifeline Corin had clung to with increasing desperation, even as Azelon maintained his careful distance in daylight.
How pathetic, to keep hoping for something Azelon had made clear would never happen.
The dishes washed themselves as Corin's projected emotions agitated the water. He let them, too tired to fight for control over something so minor. At least his magic was useful, for once.
When night fell, Corin's feet carried him to Jamie's door without conscious decision. He stood there, frozen, staring at the polished wood.
Jamie had helped last night… and the night before that, without comment, without conditions.
But could Corin continue to burden him?
Would he grow tired of Corin?
Was that why Azelon had rejected Corin? Because Corin needed so much?
"Are you going to sleep with him again?"
Corin's spine stiffened at the sound of Azelon's voice behind him. He turned slowly, truly meeting the Tideborn's gaze for the first time since their confrontation in the pool room.
He wished those eyes would not make his knees grow weak.
He had to get a hold of himself.
Steeling himself, he forced lightness into his voice. "What do you care?"
Azelon's gaze narrowed. "I only want to be certain you won't spiral tonight."
"I won't." Corin clenched his jaw.
Azelon glanced down. "Your magic is making the floorboards creak."
Corin glanced down, noticing the subtle warping of the wood beneath his feet. "Oh no, not the floorboards. However will the world survive?"
"Corin—"
"Don't." The word came out sharper than he intended. "Don't pretend you have the right to comment on my choices after what you told me today."
Azelon's expression hardened. "So you're turning to Jamie to spite me?"
The accusation hit too close to a truth Corin wasn't ready to acknowledge. "Is that what you think of me? That I'd use him like that?"
"I think you're hurt and looking for someone to make the pain stop," Azelon said, his voice dropping to nearly a whisper.
Corin laughed, the sound weak even to his own ears. "And what's wrong with that? What's wrong with turning to someone who doesn't act like I'm a burden they're stuck with?"
"That's not?—"
"Save it," Corin interrupted. "You made your choice. Go dream about your glorious return to Tidespire while I figure out how to survive another night."
Without waiting for a response, Corin turned and knocked on Jamie's door, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was suddenly, acutely aware of Azelon still standing behind him, watching.
The door opened, revealing Jamie in sleep pants and a soft-looking t-shirt. His hair was damp, as if he'd just bathed. He glanced from Corin to Azelon, then back again.
"Everything okay?" he asked.
"Fine," Corin said brightly, too brightly. "Just wondering if your generous offer of nightmare-sitting is still open."
Something shifted in Jamie's expression—understanding, maybe, or concern. He stepped back without hesitation. "Of course. Come in."
Corin slipped past him, pointedly not looking back at Azelon. The door closed behind him, and suddenly he was alone with Jamie.
But was he really just here to spite Azelon?
To provoke the blue-skinned man who'd chased away his nightmares and filled his dreams?
Shame burned through him, making his skin feel too tight. "I shouldn't have come," he muttered. "This was?—"
"Stop," Jamie said, his voice gentle but firm. "Whatever's going on between you and Azelon, you don't need to explain it to me."
"But I'm using you," Corin blurted, the honesty tearing from him before he could stop it. "I came here because I knew he was watching, because I wanted to hurt him like he hurt me, and that's not fair to you."
Jamie considered this, his expression thoughtful rather than offended. "Are nightmares still a concern?"
"Yes, but?—"
"Then part of your motivation was genuine need," Jamie said reasonably. "The rest is between you and Azelon."
He moved toward the bed, pulling back the covers as if the matter was settled. "The store made the bed bigger," he observed. "Apparently it agrees with this arrangement."
Corin stood frozen, struggling to process Jamie's easy offer of comfort.
"I don't deserve this," he whispered.
Jamie paused, looking back at him. "Why? Because your motivations aren't perfectly pure? Welcome to being human, Corin."
The statement was so unexpected, so matter-of-fact, that Corin found himself laughing. A real laugh this time, not the brittle sound he'd been making all day.
"I'm not technically human."
Jamie shrugged, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "Close enough."
The tension that had been coiled around Corin's chest began to ease. He crossed to the bed, hesitating for just a moment before sliding under the covers.
"Are all humans this understanding, or are you a particularly evolved specimen?" he asked, settling onto his side facing Jamie.
"I'm pretty average," Jamie replied, lying down and turning toward him. "Maybe running a bookstore teaches you that everyone's carrying around messy motivations and complicated feelings."
"Rectangles with feelings inside them," Corin murmured, remembering his earlier dismissal of books.
"Something like that."
They lay in silence for a few minutes, close but not touching. The quiet wasn't strained like it had been at dinner—it felt comfortable, expectant.
"The nightmares," Jamie said quietly. "Do they come every night?"
"Most." Corin licked his lips. "But they're worse when I'm alone."
"You're not alone now."
Something about those four words—the certainty in them, the quiet offer of connection without demand—made Corin's chest draw tight. Before he could think better of it, he rolled toward Jamie, closing the distance between them.
"Can I..." He swallowed, suddenly unsure.
Jamie extended an arm in silent invitation. Corin moved into the space offered, pressing against Jamie's side, head coming to rest on his shoulder. A strong arm wrapped around him, steady and warm.
"Better?" Jamie asked, his voice a low rumble Corin could feel as much as hear.
"Yes." Corin relaxed fractionally, allowing himself to absorb Jamie's calm. "You're good at this."
"At what?"
"Touching. Closeness." Corin's fingers traced idle patterns on Jamie's chest. "You're not afraid my emotions will overwhelm you."
"Should I be?" There was genuine curiosity in the question.
"Most people are." Corin shifted closer. "My projections make them nervous. Make them emotional. It can get... messy."
"I can handle that." Jamie's hand moved to Corin's hair, fingers combing through the strands with gentle pressure.
The touch sent warmth cascading through Corin. How long had it been since someone touched him with such casual tenderness? Azelon held him during nightmares, yes, but always with a certain rigidity, a carefully maintained distance even in physical closeness.
This was different. This was touch for the sake of connection, not just to prevent a magical catastrophe.
"Jamie," Corin whispered, tilting his face up.
In the darkness, Jamie's eyes found his. "Yes?"
Corin pushed himself up on one elbow, heart racing. "I want..."
He couldn't finish the sentence. Instead, he closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to Jamie's in a kiss that started gentle but quickly deepened.
Jamie made a sound of surprise that melted into something else entirely. His hand tightened in Corin's hair, not restraining but encouraging. Corin shifted, moving over him, chasing the heat building between them.
Jamie kissed with the same focused intensity he brought to everything—fully present, responsive, taking control. His hands slid down Corin's back, pulling him closer.
Pleasure sparked through Corin, his emotions projecting outward, making the air around them warm and charged.
Jamie didn't pull away. If anything, his grip tightened, one hand moving to Corin's hip.
"Is this okay?" Jamie murmured against his mouth.
"More than okay," Corin gasped, chasing the contact, the friction, the building pressure.
He'd wanted this—touch, intimacy, desire—for so long. The fact that it was Jamie and not Azelon felt secondary to the overwhelming relief of simply being wanted.
Until it didn't.
The thought of Azelon crashed through the haze of pleasure, a cold shock that made Corin falter. Images flashed through his mind: Azelon pulling him from the drowning dreamscape, Azelon's arms around him during countless nightmare-filled nights, Azelon's rare, fleeting smiles.
The glow of his markings in darkness. The way he always knew when Corin's emotions were about to spiral out of control. The infuriating, impossible devotion to duty that kept him forever out of reach.
Corin broke the kiss abruptly, pulling back. "I can't. I'm sorry."
Jamie didn't try to hold him, hands falling away immediately. "It's okay."
"It's not." Corin sat up, running both hands through his hair. "It's really not okay. I'm using you as a replacement and that's... that's not fair to either of us."
"I'm a grown man. I knew what I was getting into."
"Did you?" Corin laughed shakily. "Because I'm not sure I did."
He expected Jamie to push him away, to be angry or at least hurt. Instead, Jamie simply sat up beside him, not touching but close enough that Corin could feel his warmth.
"You're in love with him," Jamie stated.
It wasn't a question, but Corin answered anyway. "Yes."
"And that's not going to change overnight."
"No." Corin drew his knees to his chest. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." Jamie leaned back against the headboard. "Feelings are complicated."
Corin risked a glance at him. "You're being very understanding about this."
"What's the alternative? Getting angry at you for having feelings?" Jamie shook his head. "I've had to learn that those can't easily be controlled, and anyway, I know he has feelings for you too." He paused. "I shouldn't get in the middle of that."
"It doesn't matter," Corin said. "He doesn't want me."
"I don't believe that."
"Then why does he keep pushing me away?" His pain threatened to overwhelm Corin once more. The lights flickered overhead, then burned out, plunging them into darkness.
"Hey." Jamie drew him close again. "I don't know why Azelon is being an idiot, but he clearly cares about you."
Corin swallowed hard, willing himself to calm down. How pathetic was it that he needed so much help with that?
That he had so little control over his magic?
Was it any wonder his family had chased him away?