Page 45 of Room for Three
"We're not leaving without you." Jamie's voice strained to carry through the howling winds.
Corin laughed, the sound jagged and raw even to his own ears. "Why not? You have each other now. Your precious bond. That's what you want, isn't it? Peace and calm and control."
He watched Jamie try to push forward, only to be driven back by a wave of projected emotion. The human winced, one hand going to his side where his wound must have reopened.
Guilt sliced through Corin.
They truly would be better off without him.
"See? I'm only hurting you. Again!" His voice cracked. "Just leave me alone!"
The storm intensified and tree roots erupted from the ground to twist in agony. Behind Jamie and Azelon, shadow creatures gathered at the edges of the clearing, drawn by the feast of emotional energy.
Everything was falling apart.
Of course it was.
Corin was powerless to stop it.
Magic surged through his body, burning along his nerve endings, pouring from him in visible waves of crimson and gold. His vision blurred further, darkness creeping at the edges.
But just as Corin was about to give in to it, Azelon charged directly into the heart of the storm—toward him.
"Stop!" Corin screamed. "Don't touch me!"
But Azelon didn't stop. The Tideborn pushed through the emotional winds like a swimmer fighting a current, his markings blazing so brightly they left trails of light in Corin's vision. Pain etched lines in Azelon's face as the magical projection burned against his skin, but still he came.
Why wouldn't he stop?
Didn't he understand Corin would destroy him?
Destroy both of them?
Azelon reached him, caught him in an iron grip before Corin could even think to move away.
"What are you doing?" Corin gasped, struggling against Azelon's hold. "Let me go!"
He was going to end up hurt if he stayed!
Just like Jamie had been hurt.
The storm whipped around Corin's head, picking up speed. He tried to yank his arm out of Azelon's grip.
Azelon held on. And then he began speaking in a language Corin had heard only in fragments before—the ancient Tideborn tongue, flowing and melodic despite the chaos around them. The words carried power, resonating in Corin's chest like the vibrations of a plucked string.
Azelon's markings flared and his magic seemed to creep along his skin—and into Corin. A tingling warmth that spread up his arms and into his chest.
Like a tether forming between them.
"What are you doing to me?" Corin demanded, his voice rising with panic.
Azelon's only response was to tighten his grip, his eyes fierce with concentration as he continued the incantation.
An odd emotion swept through their new connection. Fear of loss. Of failure. Of regret.
And beneath it, something startlingly like affection.
And while the storm still raged, Corin felt his chaotic power being drawn outward, flowing into Azelon.
