Trystan stands with his face toward the water, eyes closed, head up, and breathes it all in. The water. The glorious violent energy of it.

“I come here often,” Vothe tells him, pointing toward the towering, jagged bluff above them. “I fly up there and watch the tide. Feel its energy crashing through me.”

Vothe reaches for Trystan and grasps his hand, abruptly filled with the sense of a building storm. Lightning sparks through them both as their fingers tighten around each other and Trystan gives Vothe a look, sudden fire in it and a rush of water strong enough to rival the crashing tide.

“Trystan...”

Vothe is unable to finish the thought. Trystan grabs hold of him, his lips coming to Vothe’s. Lightning flashes through them both, sparking out in a forking explosion that sends a shock wave of heat through Vothe.

Trystan pulls back, trembling as he keeps tight hold of Vothe’s arms, hesitating, his look almost pained.

Vothe grabs Trystan’s tunic and yanks him roughly back, their mouths capturing each other’s once more as the full force of their power collides, stealing Vothe’s breath away.

Trystan’s muscles are taut under Vothe’s palms, his hands grasping, his hot breath cutting through the cool spray of water all around them as Vothe deepens the kiss, caressing Trystan’s tongue with his own, which seems to both shock and thrill Trystan. Vothe can feel the roar of Trystan’s power overtaking him, overtaking them both as they kiss and kiss. And suddenly, Vothe wants to possess Trystan fully and be possessed by him. Only him.

When they finally come up for air, Vothe’s back is pressed against the cliff, Trystan’s hard body pressed against his.

Trystan’s lips lift into a crooked smile. “Have I honored your traditions adequately, Vothendrile?” He glances over his shoulder at the lavender moon, but underneath his intense want, Vothe scents his vulnerability, his body’s slight tremor.

Vothe reaches up to caress Trystan’s face, then kisses him lightly on his cheekbone, his temple, his sharp jaw, his water magic flowing through Trystan’s lines in a caressing stream. “I’m falling in love with you, toiyanon.”

Trystan’s whole expression tenses and he starts to silently cry.

Vothe leans close and touches the tip of his tongue to the salty tears. “Let me court you.”

Trystan’s mouth gives a bitter twist. “Your family will disown you—”

“To hell with all of that. Let me court you.”

Trystan nods as their water power flows toward each other in a passionate, whipping stream. “Tell me again what’s involved in that?” Trystan says in a quavering tone, reaching up to wipe away tears. “You mentioned a bite.”