“You misunderstand me,” Or’myr clarifies, an acrid regret cutting through him. “The fact is, it’s awful to kiss me. I’ve a great deal of fire power, and it’s magnified by my geomancy. And...it’s in my kiss.” His longing intensifies, everything in him wishing he could sweep her into his arms and carry her into the grove’s sweet shadows. “I’ve been told that my kiss feels like a bolt of lightning. It’s the bane of my existence. Well, that and the threat of worldwide Gardnerian supremacy. But the damned Xishlon moon seems to render that trivial this eve.”

Tierney studies Or’myr, the lavender moonlight dancing over her changeable lake-blue hue. “Is your kiss actually harmful?” she asks, a speculative glint in her eyes.

Renewed surprise washes over Or’myr as he realizes that she might still be entertaining the possibility of kissing him right here, right now, despite what he’s just told her. Fire magic shivers through his lines, his mind falling into a muddled daze. “No,” he manages. “It’s a phantom affinity sensation.”

“Here,” Tierney says, and she holds out one of the violet necklaces. “If ever there was a night for purple lightning, this is it.”

Or’myr looks at the necklace, a breathless, swoony feeling overtaking him. “Tierney...are you aware of the necklaces’ effect? They’re said to enhance the moon’s draw...”

Tierney blows out an incredulous sound. “You really believe that? I think they’re simply moon trinkets. But even if there’s something to it, they’ll give us an excuse to kiss each other and then...blame it on the necklaces.”

A laugh escapes Or’myr, his heartbeat tripping in his chest as he accepts the Xishlon’lure. Runic energy tingles over his fingers as he touches the chain, and when he looks back at Tierney, he notes, in wonderment, that there’s a serious light in her eyes.

And warmth.

Warmth for him.

“On the count of three,” Tierney says with a shy smile. She raises the chain over her head and Or’myr does the same, feeling as if he’s about to take a dive off a cliff. “One, two...three.”

Or’myr slips the necklace on at the same time she does.

A rush of intense want hits him, coursing straight through his blood, the Xishlon moon’s pull to loving honesty intensified a thousandfold. Words flood out of him in a passionate rush.

“I’m entranced by you, Tierney,” he breathlessly enthuses, every last bit of pent-up longing unleashed. “I have been for some time. And I don’t just think you’re beautiful. You’re brilliant and clever and talented and brave. And I want to kiss you every time we’re together. I lie awake at night imagining it. Imagining how soft your lips would feel against mine...”