“I get that. But as unnerving as it may be, it is real.” To make her point she turned on the light over the sink with her mind.

He eyed it but didn’t flinch. “I believe that. Crazy as it is, but potions, spells?” He shook his head.

Baby steps, she told herself.

Jake crossed the room and set his cup down, took hers from her hand and set it aside before laying one hand on the counter to box her into his personal space. He eyed her neck, and licked the sensitive spot he’d placed there earlier. He reached around her, turned off the kitchen light. “I can turn things off, too.”

She leaned into his lips as shivers ran down her spine. “You turn things on well, too.”

He grabbed her waist, hoisted her on the counter.

Selma leaned back, catching herself, and accidentally hit the answering machine.

Her voice echoed in the room, telling the caller to leave a message while Jake traced her collarbone with his tongue.

“You’re insatiable,” she told him.

“I don’t hear you saying no.”

And he wouldn’t.

The beep of her machine ended and a cold, deadpan voice froze them both.

“You think you can hide from me, bitch? Yeah, that’s right…your home phone number was easy…so was your address.”

Jake’s grip on her tightened as they both stopped all movement.

How did he get her unlisted number? Her address?

“What the hell is that about?”

****

Everything in Kincaid’s world was upside down. Amber never left his head. Her thoughts, her words, emotions. Everything was only a thought away. By morning, he was able to leave their room only to find everyone in the house staring at him, wanting to know his intentions. The fact he knew their thoughts, their needs, itched under his skin, and made his head want to explode. Was this what Amber dealt with for years, and with so many others?

To make matters worse, his body felt as if it had been pulled behind a hover-bike without a net for a hundred miles. He hoped to hell the relative peace he’d managed for the better part of a week would continue. He didn’t need any unexpected battles, or he’d have to shelter Amber and himself until he was strong enough to fight.

Instead of inviting chaos, he holed up in the library with Giles and suffered his friend’s concerned state.

“Stop staring at me,” he finally told the man.

Giles shook his head with a laugh. “Can’t help it. We thought you were going to die. Then when you didn’t, I realized how dramatically your life has changed. Makes a man think.”

“My life isn’t so different.”

“You’re married to a MacCoinnich, Kincaid…an original. Not some descendent passed down through bloodlines over hundreds of years. But the daughter of Ian and Lora. Good God man, do you have any idea what that means?”

Kincaid crossed his arms over his chest. “It means I’m sworn to protect her.”

“It means we’re all sworn to protect her and your children for generations to come. Your own power will grow with your bond, and you were damn near untouchable before your vows.”

That he knew. Perhaps that was why it was taking him so bloody long to recover from his brief illness. He’d not experienced anything close to near-death in all his years of battle, in all the lives he’d taken.

He didn’t want to think of the boost to his gift or the weight of hers that had been with him since he first grasped her hand. Instead of addressing his abilities, he spoke of what didn’t have to be. “There are no guarantees we’ll ever have children.”

Giles laughed outright. “You’re bonded. It’s only a matter of time.”

“We hardly know each other.”

“Yet you’re married.”

Kincaid couldn’t argue that. “Still.”

“You were attracted to her before we found her.”

Kincaid stood, ignored the slight spin of the room, and walked along the wall of old books. “If bonding has sealed our fate of many years and children, why don’t your books talk of us? Why didn’t you find any word of us in the future?”

“I haven’t found a word about Simon and Helen, either.”

“Who would know of them other than us?”

“Good point. Maybe I’m the one who needs to write their story…and yours,” Giles suggested.

“Maybe.” Yet if he did, there would still be a story told somewhere.

“If your story takes place from this time forward, there wouldn’t be any evidence in this library today.”

“And if we all return to our time, the story hasn’t been told yet.”

Giles stood and rolled the ladder along the wall of books. “Would you want to read your story? Know your future? If you knew what would happen between you and Amber, would you have come to this time?”

Kincaid felt his arms grow cold. If he hadn’t come, she would be gone by now. Of that, he had no doubt. “I’m sworn to protect her.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Kincaid felt the headache he’d finally managed to shed returning.

“Maybe instead of asking about the future, we need to look in the past. Who knows, maybe you both return to her time and you manage to wear that kilt you love so much.”

He ignored his friend’s sarcasm, knowing damn well Giles understood his discomfort in a skirt.

Before Kincaid could comment on living in the past, he felt the presence of others and turned toward the door of the library. The sound of the front door slammed at the same time a book fell from one of the top shelves.

A rough voice of a man shouted Simon’s name in the hall.

Jake stood grasping Selma’s arm in the hall while the members in the house took little time to meet them.

Jake held a suitcase, which he promptly tossed at Simon’s feet, and said. “Selma’s staying here.”

“Not necessary, Jake!” Selma pulled out of his grasp.

“The hell! You have some nutcase stalking you. You’re staying here!”

“Nutcase?” Simon asked.

“Yeah, some freak threatening her life.” Jake turned his back to Simon to glare at Selma.

Helen moved to Selma’s side. “I told you Jake would believe you.”

“Wait? You knew about this?” Jake asked.

Selma pushed between Jake and Helen. “I told Helen and Amber about the email last night.”

“That was before the personal phone call,” Jake said.