Page 159 of The Dryad Storm

Lightning flashes through his eyes as their gazes lock more intensely, and Tierney feels the desire rising to fall straight into his purple-flashing gaze and intohim. To pour her heart out over the powerful, confusing things that have transpired between them like she’s poured her heart out to him about practically everything else in her life.

“You’re welcome, Tierney,” he says softly, a crackle of his lightning riding out to her, a static tingle rushing over her skin.

Stiffening and averting his eyes, Or’myr moves toward the purple bonfire he’s got going on the riverbank, a few stone seats surrounding it that he’s carved from the bank’s rock. A steel teapot hangs from a tripod over the bonfire, the metal stunningly crafted from the iron spikes that Or’myr pulled from the River, his transformation of iron to steel rendering the metal safe for Tierney to handle. What smells like a root-based stew is simmering in a pot set on the tripod’s metal base, sending up a mouthwatering aroma.

Tierney’s eyes flick toward the shelter Or’myr is in the process of cutting into the wall of purple-veined onyx riverbank stone just behind them. Stone trees are artfully carved into the walls, along with a variety of shelves, a table, and a bed.

Tierney’s lip quirks. “I can’t believe you’re managing to carve an entirehomeinto the bank’s stone,” she marvels, both charmed and amazed by his ability to do this so rapidly, his thick Urisk strain of domesticity such a bolstering comfort in this moment.

Or’myr glances aslant at her, one brow cocked as he takes hold of the gleaming teapot’s wooden handle. “Well, I don’t like to be idle. And I can draw only so much amplifying charge into our shielding in a day. Which leaves some gaps of time.” He smiles at her as he pours mushroom tea into two cups carved from the bank’sstone. “And I can’t very well sleep with you at the bottom of the Vo...” He stiffens and glances away. Heat blooms on Tierney’s face once more because she’ssurehe’s remembering their brazen dream, as she, too, careens into a recollection of his astonishing level of passion. Andlove. So much love for her flowing through their bond when they dream-joined.

“It’s so...charming,” she comments, as she takes in the small, suspended, purple moon orb magicked into the dwelling’s inside corner that illuminates the space with deep violet light, a door crafted from woven purple vines already set into steel hinges and thrown open.

She dares a glance at Or’myr to find him grinning at her. “If you like this,” he says, “you’dlovemy Vonor. Oh, wait... you saw a bit of that...” A flush rises in his purple cheeks and he averts his gaze once more before shooting her a resigned, amused look and holding out a warm cup of tea.

Another rush of affection for him ripples through their bond as she accepts the tea and takes a seat by the bonfire.

“I’ve never had a safe, permanent home,” she confides, her throat suddenly feeling a bit raw. Or’myr stills, listening as she cradles the warm mug and stares fixedly at its rising curlicues of steam. “I was ripped away from my Asrai family at such a young age,” she continues, “and my Gardnerian home, loving as it was... I was always under the threat of losing my new home, because I had such a hard time hiding my power. And now, my Mage family... they’re unwanted refugees here in the East... their lives torn apart because they took in my younger brother and me.”

A wave of turmoil eddies through Tierney’s magic and she struggles to contain it. Or’myr sets down the teapot and takes a seat next to her. She can feel the weight of his fervent gaze on her, his quiet like an embracing lifeline as she looks up and meets his eyes. “Your sense of home,” she says, “it’s so solid and sure, built right into stone. When I’m with you, I feel like I’ve finally found a place where...” Her words trail off as she’s overtaken by a gut-deep yearning for this thing in him that she always craved with everything in her but could never pinpoint why until right now, Or’myr’s aura of steadiness like a home in and of itself, so solid and true... save for the frenzied lightning in his kiss.

Lightning that stands between them.

“Make me a space here,” she’s suddenly imploring, motioning toward the cavern. “Extend it maybe... so my River flows in...” The words catch, too much emotion trussed up in them for her to say more.

They hold each other’s gaze for a heartbeat. Then another.

“I’ll make you a space here,” he offers quietly, the lightning flashing through his gaze emphasizing the subtext running through his words. A more heated tension flares, a frustrated energy running through both their auras.

A bitter ache grips Tierney’s throat, this sudden yearning for him twisting her heart so hard that she can barely get out athank you. She focuses doggedly on the teacup in her hands, an earthy steam wafting up from the tea inside it, but her yearning for him only intensifies—his conjured moon, the teacup and mushroom tea, the home he’s forming even with the Magedom’s demonic forces breathing down their necks. It’s as much of a defiant battle cry as his readiness to deploy his power against the Magedom with lethal precision.

“Tell me more about your Vonor,” she prods, casting about for a distraction. “I’ve been curious about it for a while.”

Or’myr cocks a quizzical brow before his expression lightens. “Well, there are many, many books, as you’d likely expect. As well as a small geomancy lab and quite a few weapons. And I have a mushroom farm in a cavern on one side.”

Welcome amusement bubbles up inside Tierney. “You have a mushroomfarm? You never mentioned that.”

“Shhh,” he chastises, shooting her a look of mock censure. “Don’t tell anyone. You’ll ruin my great mystique. Don’t mention the teacup collection either.”

She lets out a short laugh. “You have ateacupcollection?”

“I do. And quite a few violins. And drawings that I did.” He hesitates. “Mostly of the Vo.” He glances at her sidelong. “Quite a few of you.”

Tierney’s skin prickles as his lightning aura crackles through the warming churn of her water aura.

His expression shifts to one of amusement. “Is this enticing you?”

She gives him a flustered, wry look.

Or’myr breathes out a laugh, mischief in his eyes as he sits back, cradling his tea. “Well, then, you’lllovehearing about the waterfall.”

Tierney gulps, her heartbeat tripping over itself. “There’s awaterfall?”

His grin widens. “There is,” he croons, his voice dropping to a teasingly suggestive octave. “Deep in my Vonor’s most cavernous recesses. It flows down from an outcropping of amethyst then out over the Voloi Mountain Range’s lower peaks. Its water is suffused with my purple geo-energy and eventually flows down into your Vo.”

“I’ve sensed it,” she murmurs in a flash of realization, barely breathing, completely under his spell. “I’ve sensed your purple energy in the water.”

“See, Tierney,” he murmurs, his voice like silk, a suggestive thrum in it. “I’ve been there in your river all along.”

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