Page 162 of The Dryad Storm

“You’re a hopeless romantic,” Tierney murmurs.

“It’s true,” he admits with a rueful smile, even as his tightly controlled power continues to strain toward hers. “But I can never ‘partake of the garden’ with my true love.” His gaze intensifies, both pain and desire in it, the potency of it triggering a surge of Tierney’s own power. Her magic jostles against her hold, striving to surge toward him.

Pulling in a harsh breath, Or’myr peers fixedly back at his tea. “I’m cursed to stand on the outside of it all, it would seem.” He lets out another long sigh and attempts a smile. “My own personal tragedy to bear. I suppose there’s romance in that too.” He nods toward the shield above them. “But at least I can make myself useful.”

Tierney’s throat tightens, thick with longing. “The dream I shared with you,” she says, “our connection in it... it was the one that brought Balance to my River. But it was more than that. I care for you, Or’myr. As more than a friend.” She hesitates, barely able to draw an even breath. “I want you back in my dreams.”

A stronger heat fires on the air between them, reflected in Or’myr’s eyes.

“If I was able to regain access to your dreams,” he says, low and emphatic, “I wouldincineratethem.”

Tierney’s eyes widen, a forbidden warmth sparking low in her core. “I bet I could handle you,” she teases, completely enraptured. “Since I’m such a connoisseur of ‘the garden.’?”

Or’myr coughs out a surprised laugh, giving her a sly, suggestive look. “You certainly seem to be.”

Tierney swallows and looks away, striving to maintain her composure. “If you had been raised by an Easterner,” she finally ventures, “do you think you’d be different?”

He cocks a brow. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “Do you think you’d want more than... just the ‘one flower’?”

Or’myr seems to seriously consider this, looking into his tea. “I don’t know. I’m private by nature and have a tendency to form strong bonds with those I care for. It’s hard to say.”

Tierney’s ache for him intensifies, and it’s not just for his gorgeous tattooed body, or the lightning-rod excitement of their dream coupling. Or even for the Balance their joining brought to her Vo’s energy. It’s a complex longing forallof him. For everything that he is.

“Ireallywant you back in my dreams,” she admits, surrendering to his drawas their eyes find each other once more, the heat in his gaze shifting to flame as his eyes travel over her more wantonly than they ever have before, a stronger heat sparking through them both as his lightning aura crackles around her form.

He wrenches his gaze away, looking toward the sky as if praying for strength. “This conversation,” he rasps, “coupled with the draw of this bond, is making meso hard.”

Tierney gapes at him in utter shock.

He lowers his gaze to hers and registers her expression, his lips twisting with incredulity. “You dream-paired with all three of us, andI’mscandalizingyou?”

Tierney huffs out an incredulous sound. “I’m from the West. We don’t say those things!”

Smirking, Or’myr gestures toward her with his mug. “You should practice saying scandalous things. I think it would be good for you.”

She tosses him an arch look. “Maybe I like being oblique.”

“All right, then.” Or’myr suppresses a smile as he glances up at their shield. “I, for one, could use an occasional distraction from the end of the world. We can be oblique together. And discuss matters of love and lust in bizarrely metaphorical ways. We’d best work through what’s going on between us, though, as it seems you and I are linked in a way that puts our every feeling and desire on full display.” He gives her another slow once-over, their powers snagging, his lightning sizzling against her water magic with potent force.

Unable to resist the draw of their bond one second longer, Tierney sets down her tea, rises and holds out her hand for his mug. A questioning look enters Or’myr’s eyes before he hands it to her, purple light flashing through his gaze as she sets his mug aside.

Her heart thudding, Tierney brazenly throws a leg over his and lowers herself onto his lap, straddling him. Her heartbeat thudding against his, she presses herself against him, uneven breaths shuddering through both their throats.Hard, indeed.

“What are you doing?” Or’myr whispers, his breath warm against her cheek, his hands on her waist, light and tentative.

Tierney swallows, overcome by the wild pleasure of pressing herself against him so intimately, the reality of it so much more intense than their dream. “I’d like to ‘dance around the Ironwood tree.’?”

Or’myr coughs out a laugh. “Is that a bizarreWestern Realmeuphemism?”

Tierney can’t suppress her smile. “It actually is.”

“You talk about pairing... asIronwood trees?”

“Mm-hmm,” she admits.

“That’s ridiculous,” he breathes against her ear.

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