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. "Sostupid."
"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.
Chapter
Ten
Azelon knelt beside Jamie's bed, the human's soft, uneven breaths the only sound breaking the silence of the healing chamber.
The memory of Corin's body pressed against his haunted him, threatening the control he'd maintained all this time. One moment of weakness—that's all it had taken to shatter his resolve.
It was all impossible.
Selfish.
And yet...
"No more distractions," Azelon muttered to himself, focusing on Jamie's face. The human's features were drawn with pain even in unconsciousness. A cut above his right eyebrow had scabbed over, but bruises still darkened his skin in mottled patches.
All because he'd tried to save Corin.
All because Azelon had failed to protect them both.
The store creaked around him, as if sensing his guilt. A small table beside the bed shifted slightly, edging closer to Azelon's reach. On it sat a ceramic bowl filled with a paste of crushed leaves—something Azelon hadn't requested but the building had provided anyway.
"Is this what he needs?" Azelon asked the empty room.
