Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
Jamie lay unconscious on the healing bed, his breathing shallow but stable. The wound in his side had been the worst—a jagged tear where flying debris had caught him—but the store had provided herbs with remarkable healing properties.
The bleeding had stopped, though fever still flushed the human's skin.
Azelon dipped a cloth in cool water and placed it on Jamie's forehead, his fingers lingering for a moment on the human's temple.
Three days of this vigil had worn Azelon thin.
Three days since the attack, since Corin's power had exploded beyond control, since Jamie had thrown himself into harm's way with reckless courage.
Three days of watching both Jamie and Corin suffer, neither fully present.
The door creaked open behind him. He didn't need to turn to know who stood there.
"Is he any better?" Corin's voice was small, nothing like his usual theatrical tones.
"His fever persists," Azelon replied, not looking up. "But his wounds are healing."
Corin hovered in the doorway, not daring to enter. The fae had spent most of the past days locked in his room, emerging only to check on Jamie before retreating again.
"Can I..." Corin's voice faltered. "Can I come in?"
Azelon turned then, studying Corin. His amber eyes dulled with exhaustion, shoulders hunched as if bearing an invisible weight.
Concern tugged at Azelon.
"Are you stable?" he asked.
Corin nodded, though his fingers trembled at his sides. "I haven't projected anything since... since it happened."
Azelon sighed. "Come in, then. But stay by the door."
Corin slipped into the room, keeping his distance from the bed as instructed. His gaze fixed on Jamie's still form, guilt washing over his features.
"I did this," he whispered.
"We all failed," Azelon corrected, wringing out the cloth and reapplying it to Jamie's forehead. "I promised I could contain your projection. I was wrong."
"Don't." Corin's voice cracked. "Don't try to share this. It's my fault. My powers. My lack of control."
Azelon moved to a shelf of medicinal herbs, selecting leaves. "Self-pity serves no one."
"It's not self-pity, it's the truth." Anger flashed across Corin's face, the first real emotion beyond guilt he'd shown in days. The air in the room thickened slightly, the first hint of his projection emerging. "You've been telling me for months how dangerous I am."
"Control yourself," Azelon warned.
"See?" Corin laughed, the sound jagged with pain. "Even now, even when I'm trying to accept responsibility…"
A soft groan from the bed silenced him. Jamie stirred, eyelids fluttering though they didn't open.
Azelon was at his side instantly, one hand on Jamie's wrist to monitor his pulse. "Jamie?"
Jamie's lips moved, forming words too faint to hear. Azelon leaned closer.
"The store," Jamie mumbled. "Is it safe?"
Something tightened in Azelon's chest. "The store is fine," he assured him. "It's repairing itself. The creatures are gone."
Jamie's eyes opened briefly, unfocused with fever. "Corin?"
Azelon hesitated, glancing toward the doorway. Corin stood frozen, tension radiating from him.
"Corin is here," Azelon finally said. "He's unharmed."
Relief softened Jamie's features. "Good," he murmured, eyes slipping closed again. "That's good."
Azelon straightened, turning to find Corin moving closer despite his earlier warning.
"He asked for me," Corin whispered, wonder mixing with the guilt in his voice. "After what I did, he still?—"
"Stay back," Azelon ordered, but Corin continued forward, drawn by something stronger than caution.
"I need to tell him I'm sorry," Corin insisted, coming to the edge of the bed. "I need to?—"
The air around him began to shimmer as emotion rose once more.
Azelon didn't think, he acted. He wrapped an arm around Corin's waist and physically lifted him away from the bed.
"No!" Corin struggled against him, but Azelon's Tideborn strength easily overcame his resistance.
"You're projecting again," Azelon growled in his ear. "Control it or leave."
"I can't—" Corin's voice broke. "I thought I could handle it but seeing him like this, knowing I caused it…"
Azelon didn't wait for him to finish. With Corin still struggling in his arms, he carried him bodily from the healing chamber, flicking the door shut behind them with his tail.
In the hallway, he set Corin down but maintained his grip, keeping the fae from returning to Jamie's side.
"Let me go!" Corin demanded, twisting against him. "I need to be there when he wakes up. I need to explain?—"
"You need to calm yourself first," Azelon countered. "Your emotions are uncontrolled again."
"Of course they are!" Corin shouted, his projection intensifying with his distress. The hallway lights flickered. A mirror on the wall cracked from corner to corner. "I almost killed him! I almost killed both of you!"
Azelon recognized the spiral beginning—guilt feeding fear feeding more guilt, emotions cascading until they manifested physically. He'd seen it before, in the drowning dreamscape where he'd first found Corin.
He needed to break the cycle.
"Enough," Azelon said, his voice sharper than intended.
"Don't tell me it's enough!" Corin's eyes blazed, tears streaming freely now. "You've been right all along. I'm too dangerous. Too unstable. I should never have stayed with you. I should have left before anyone got hurt. I should?—"
Seeing that words would not cut through, Azelon turned once more to action.
Pushing Corin against the wall, he closed the distance between them and pressed his mouth to Corin's, swallowing whatever self-recrimination was coming next.
For one heartbeat, Corin went rigid with shock. Then, with a broken sound caught between a sob and a gasp, he melted into the kiss, hands clutching desperately at Azelon's shoulders.
The emotional projection didn't disappear, but it transformed. The chaotic energy of guilt and self-loathing shifted into something warmer, less destructive. The hallway lights steadied, then brightened. The temperature rose subtly around them.
Azelon hadn't meant for the kiss to deepen, but Corin's response stripped away his restraint. All the months of careful distance collapsed like a dam breaking. His hands moved to frame Corin's face, thumbs brushing away tears as he tasted the salt of them on Corin's lips.
When he finally pulled back, both of them were breathing hard. Corin stared up at him, amber eyes wide with confusion and desperate hope.
"What was that?" he whispered.
Azelon didn't have an answer that wouldn't destroy all his boundaries.
"A distraction," he said finally. "Your projection was getting out of control."
Hurt flashed across Corin's face, but it was quickly masked by a weak laugh. "Right. Of course. Just keeping me from destroying the building."
Azelon stepped back, putting space between them. Already he regretted his impulsiveness. Already he felt the consequences threading through him, weakening the resolve he'd built so carefully.
"Your projection has stabilized," he observed, his voice neutral. "That's what matters."
"Is it?" Corin leaned back against the wall, eyes never leaving Azelon's face. "Is that all that matters to you?"
The question hung between them, weighted with unspoken truths. Azelon looked away first.
"Jamie needs rest," he said. "And you need to regain control of your emotions before you return to the healing chamber."
Corin's expression hardened. "You didn't answer my question."
"Because there is no answer that helps our current situation," Azelon replied.
"You're wrong." Corin pushed off the wall, stepping closer. "There's plenty that would help. Like the truth. Like admitting what I already know—that you care for me. That you've cared all along, even while you were pushing me away."
Azelon retreated a step. "My feelings are irrelevant."
"They're the only relevant thing!" Corin's voice rose again, but his projection remained contained, focused. He gestured between them. "That was not the kiss of someone who feels nothing."
"I never said I felt nothing," Azelon admitted, the words escaping before he could stop them.
Hope blazed across Corin's face. "Then what do you feel?"
Azelon closed his eyes briefly, frustrated by his own lack of control. This was exactly what he'd spent months avoiding—this confrontation, this vulnerability.
"I feel," he began slowly, "that we have more pressing concerns. Jamie is still unconscious. The store is vulnerable. And I've already said more than I should."
"You're a coward," Corin said, but there was no heat in the accusation. Only sadness.
"Perhaps," Azelon agreed. "But you won't need me anymore once Jamie recovers."
Corin gaped at him.
Azelon raised an eyebrow at the fae. "You've made your interest clear enough, and he's got a good influence on you. A calming influence. You might be happy together."
"You're so stupid." Corin's gaze narrowed. " So stupid."
"Explain to me how I'm stupid. Do you not have feelings for the human?"
Corin stared at him a moment longer, then he shook his head and exhaled noisily. "I have feelings for both of you."
"You'll have to make a choice."
"No," Corin said with an air of finality. "I won't."
Before Azelon could question his resolve, Corin turned and walked away.
Azelon watched him go, a strange ache settling in his chest. The taste of Corin remained on his lips, a reminder of the line he'd crossed.
What did Corin mean when he said he wouldn't choose?
He couldn't possibly want all three of them to be together.
Could he?
With a heavy sigh, Azelon returned to the healing chamber where Jamie still lay unconscious.