Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
Jamie felt Corin's body tense against him, heard the faint catch in his breath that signaled another emotional storm brewing.
Better to cut it off at the root.
"What are you thinking?" Jamie asked softly.
Corin didn't answer immediately, his face pressed against Jamie's shoulder. When he finally spoke, his voice was muffled. "I've always been too much. Too emotional. Too chaotic."
Jamie considered his words carefully. He'd known Corin for only a few days, yet he'd already witnessed the devastating power of the fae's projected emotions. But he'd also seen the person beneath the drama—vulnerable, genuine, desperate for connection.
"I don't think you're too much," Jamie said finally. "Different, maybe. Intense for sure. But not too much."
Corin pulled back slightly, his amber eyes searching Jamie's face for signs of insincerity. "You don't know. You haven't seen me at my worst."
"I doubt that would change my mind." The certainty in his own voice surprised Jamie.
He hadn't planned on getting involved in whatever complicated relationship existed between Corin and Azelon. Hell, he hadn't planned on getting involved with anyone in this strange new world. His focus should be on finding his brother, on getting home.
Yet here he was, holding Corin, trying to calm another emotional storm, and feeling an unexpected satisfaction in being able to provide that stability.
"You're good at this," Corin murmured, echoing Jamie's earlier thoughts. "Making the chaos quiet down."
"Natural talent, I guess."
Corin shifted against him. "How are you so calm about all of this? You're trapped in another world, your store is magical, and you've got two strangers with magical problems sleeping in your bed."
Jamie almost smiled. "One stranger. You're in my bed. Azelon's down the hall."
"You know what I mean."
He did know. And the truth was, Jamie didn't understand his own calm either. Shouldn't he be panicking? His brother was missing. His bookstore had been ripped from its foundation and planted in a magical wilderness. His entire life had been upended.
Yet here he was, holding a fae creature and thinking about how the amber of Corin's eyes caught even the faintest light.
"Distraction, maybe," Jamie admitted. "If I focus on helping you, I don't have to think about everything else."
Corin pulled back enough to look at him, features barely visible in the darkness. "Your brother."
"Daniel." Jamie's chest tightened at the name. "I know he's somewhere in this world, but I don't know where."
"I'm sorry." Corin's hand settled on Jamie's chest, warm through the thin fabric of his shirt. "Here I am, making everything about my emotional drama while you're worried about your family."
"It helps, actually." Jamie covered Corin's hand with his own. "Having something I can actually fix."
The words came out more honestly than he'd intended. That was the truth of it—Jamie had always been the fixer, the steady one who kept things running while others indulged their passions or chased their dreams.
Daniel had always been the adventurer, dragging Jamie into situations that required rescue. Their father had been the dreamer who left when dreams soured. Their mother had been the romantic who fell for promises that never materialized.
Jamie had been the one who stayed, who kept the lights on, who made sure there was food in the pantry and bills were paid on time.
And now, despite being lost in a magical world with no clear way home, he'd fallen right back into the same pattern.
Corin's fingers traced down Jamie's chest. "I guess that makes me fortunate."
The simple statement stirred something warm in Jamie's chest. When was the last time someone had appreciated his stability instead of taking it for granted?
The kiss they'd shared still lingered in his mind—the heat of it, the desperate need behind it, the way Corin had pressed against him as if trying to absorb his calm through physical contact. Jamie hadn't expected the intensity of his own response. Hadn't expected to want more.
But he did.
"Do you think you can sleep?" Jamie asked, his hand moving to stroke Corin's hair again, noticing how the fae leaned into the touch like a cat starved for affection.
"Maybe," Corin mumbled. "If you keep doing that."
Jamie smiled into the darkness. "I can manage that."
Silence settled between them, comfortable and expectant. Jamie continued the gentle motion, feeling Corin gradually relax against him.
"Jamie?"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you." The words were quiet, sincere. "For not being afraid of me."
Something in Jamie's chest constricted. How many people had flinched away from Corin over the years?
"Nothing to be afraid of," Jamie replied softly.
Yet as he spoke the words, Jamie recognized the lie in them. There was plenty to fear—just not in the way Corin meant.
He feared the growing attachment he felt to this chaotic, beautiful being. Feared the satisfaction he found in being someone's anchor. Feared how right it felt to provide the stability Corin needed.
Maybe he and Daniel had that in common; they both wanted to save people in their own way.
But sooner or later, Jamie would have to leave. Find his brother. Return to his world.
And what happened to Corin then?
The store seemed to sense his unease, the room temperature adjusting to perfect comfort, the bed shifting subtly to cradle them more securely. Even the building wanted him to stay, to keep providing what Corin needed.
Corin's breathing had deepened, his body growing heavier against Jamie's side as sleep claimed him. Jamie watched the fae's face in the dim light, the usual mask of performative confidence stripped away to reveal something younger, more vulnerable.
Jamie was good at fixing things. Good at providing stability. Good at putting others before himself.
With the memory of their kiss still on his lips, Jamie couldn't help wondering what it would be like to stay. To be the person Corin seemed to think he was—someone with power, with magic, with the ability to calm storms with his touch.
The thought was seductive.
Much too seductive.
But Jamie couldn't stay here.
There was no way.
In the morning, Jamie woke to find Corin watching him, amber eyes solemn in the soft light. For once, the fae wasn't performing his usual theatrics. No dramatic poses, no flirtatious comments. Just quiet observation.
"You slept okay?" Jamie asked, his voice rough with sleep.
"Yes." Corin smiled. "Perfectly fine."
Something passed between them, an acknowledgment neither was quite ready to voice.
Jamie sat up, pushing back the covers. "About last night?—"
"We don't have to talk about it," Corin interrupted. "I overstepped. You were kind about it."
"That's not what I was going to say." Jamie ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. "We both agree that getting involved while you're still in love with someone else would be a mistake."
"And?" Corin prompted, clearly sensing there was more.
Jamie sighed. "And I don't belong here. I need to find my brother. Find a way back to my world."
Corin's expression shuttered slightly. "Right. Of course."
"That doesn't mean I won't be here for you," Jamie added, reaching out to squeeze Corin's shoulder. "For as long as I can be."
"Just not like that," Corin finished for him, a sad smile turning his lips.
"Just not like that," Jamie agreed, though the words felt hollow even as he spoke them.
The truth was more complicated. He was attracted to Corin—how could he not be? The fae was beautiful, passionate, disarmingly sincere beneath his dramatic facade.
And that kiss had been more than nice.
But getting involved would make everything more painful when the time came to leave.
And he would have to leave. His life, his brother, his entire reality existed elsewhere. This magical interlude, however compelling, was temporary.
"Coffee?" Jamie offered, changing the subject as he climbed out of bed.
Corin stretched, some of his usual performative quality returning to his movements. "Your cure for all of life's problems?"
"It doesn't hurt," Jamie replied with a small smile.
They made their way to the kitchen, the store adjusting around them—lights brightening, temperature warming to perfect comfort. Jamie couldn't help but feel the building's satisfaction at having them move through it together.
"You're doing that, aren't you?" Corin asked, looking up at the ceiling. "Making the store respond this way."
Jamie shrugged. "Not consciously."
"That's what makes it so remarkable," Corin said, watching as the coffee machine started without Jamie touching it. "The magic responds to your unconscious desires."
Jamie considered this as he reached for mugs. "And what desires would those be?"
Corin's gaze met his, unexpectedly serious again. "To provide. To shelter. To fix things."
The assessment was uncomfortably accurate.
Something twisted in Jamie's chest. It would be so easy to lean across the counter, to kiss Corin again and see where it led. To take comfort in this strange exile, to build something in this magical world where he had somehow become powerful, necessary, wanted.
But before he could take any sort of action, the front door of the store burst open. A chill wind swept through the building, carrying the distinct smell of ozone. In the doorway stood Azelon, his markings glowing with unusual intensity.
"We have a problem," the Tideborn announced. "Something's coming."
Jamie's instincts immediately shifted to crisis management. He moved toward Azelon, all thoughts of his conflicted feelings shelved in the face of immediate danger.
"What kind of something?" he asked.
"The magical creatures I mentioned," Azelon replied. "They're drawn to the store's energy. I can sense them approaching from all directions."
Corin had gone pale. "How many?"
"Too many," Azelon said grimly. "The store's transition has created a beacon. They're coming to claim its power."
Jamie looked between them, then at the building around him. His store. His responsibility.
Whatever conflict churned inside him about Corin, about staying or leaving, about where he belonged—none of it mattered right now. His store needed defending, and so did the two people who had found shelter within its walls.
"Then we'll have to stop them," Jamie said simply.
Azelon's eyes narrowed slightly, studying Jamie with new intensity. "You don't understand what we're facing."
"No," Jamie agreed. "But I understand my store. And it's not going to fall to whatever's out there." He turned toward Corin. "Not while we're here to protect it."
Corin's expression had shifted to something like wonder.
"You really mean that," he said softly.
Jamie nodded. "I do." Then, looking back to Azelon: "Tell me what we need to do."
In that moment, Jamie realized something important. For all his talk about needing to get home, about not belonging in this world, he had already claimed this store—and by extension, its occupants—as his responsibility. His to protect. His to care for.
The question of whether that made him a fool could wait for another day.