I blushed again. There was heat between us, and not just of the Aelvesgold variety, but I tried to concentrate on the Aelvesgold kind right now. I felt the warmth of his torn flesh radiating just below the palm of my hand and the pulse of his hand above mine. As I focused on the heat, I felt it grow and spread. He moved my hand slightly, in a small circular motion, and the heat moved with it. I saw it now: a syrupy red-gold light, like the liquid Aelvesgold Liam had moved across my body when we’d made love in Faerie. Only this light was stained red, perhaps because Duncan was wounded.

Duncan slowly guided my hand along the length of the gash in his chest while the viscous light coated the edges of his wound. He winced once and I stopped, but he grimaced and told me to go on; it only hurt because I was binding the skin. I nodded, and focused my energy on directing the Aelvesgold into his flesh. As I did, I felt the Aelvesgold building in me as well. Every inch of my skin prickled with energy. The rough couch upholstery felt like sandpaper on my thighs, the flannel shirt rubbing against my breasts made my nipples harden.

Duncan moved the afghan aside, took my other hand and guided it to a long gash on his thigh. Gold threads sprung from my fingertips and interlaced across his body between my hands, weaving a criss-cross pattern over his skin.

“This is different from when you bound my wounds,” I whispered, looking into his eyes. “It’s …” I faltered when I saw how he was looking at me. His eyes burned with desire. I felt its pull as I’d felt the pull of the gold threads of Aelvesgold in the woods, connecting me to everything. He reached out to stroke my face. As his hand passed across the table he knocked over the glass of Scotch I’d left on the table earlier. Its smoky aroma jarred me with a memory of Liam. I pulled away, breaking the connection between Duncan and me. Sparks flew into the air, cascading over the couch, burning holes in the upholstery. One landed on Duncan’s bare skin and he cried out in pain.

“I’m sorry,” I said, leaping up to put out the smoking cinders. “I guess I’m not ready …”

Duncan seized both my hands in his and gazed deeply into my eyes.

“It’s all right, Callie. I didn’t mean to rush you. I didn’t realize you were still attached to the incubus.”

“I’m not!” I objected.

Wordlessly, Duncan turned my hands over and held up my palms. An intricate network of golden spirals was inscribed on my skin. They looked like the Celtic knot work designs in the margins of the Book of Kells – an ancient script of magic.