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real.”
    This time, the succubus catches Caitlin’s arm. For a moment, it looks like she might rip the limb from Caitlin’s body. But then she cocks her head and looks at Caitlin, and then at Aaron, and then she considers the incubus, who’s still playing her body like a fiddle.
    “You’re right,” she finally says to Caitlin. “If this were real, Daun would be at least four inches bigger.”
    And like that, the succubus disappears in a puff of brimstone.
    Aaron feels the lust recede just as everything around him fades out. Caitlin launches herself at him, tackling him to the ground . . .
    . . . and Aaron opened his eyes. He was in Paul’s living room, seated on the floor, Caitlin’s hand in his. He stared at Caitlin, and he shivered from the vestiges of lust that danced along his body. He wanted to pin her to the ground and fuck her senseless.
    No. That hadn’t been real.
    Yes. Yes it had.
    Embarrassed and flustered and horny, he opened his mouth to say something, anything. But that’s when Jesse propped herself up and said, “Sweetie, you look much better with your clothes off.”
    The coffee shop was fairly empty, which, for Manhattan, was a small miracle. Caitlin murmured her thanks as Aaron handed her an environmentally-friendly cup filled with steaming liquid caffeine. He sank into the chair opposite her, and for a few minutes neither of them said anything as they drank their coffee. No longer joined, Caitlin couldn’t feel Aaron’s emotions. There was no need; the damage, if that’s what it was, had already been done.
    She still wanted him. And she knew that he wanted her just as much.
    But lust wasn’t love. And love with Aaron hadn’t worked.
    Maybe it could work again . . .
    No. And no.
    With a sigh, Caitlin drank her coffee.
    “So,” Aaron said, “when are you heading back to Salem?”
    She shrugged. “After this, I guess.”
    He gazed at her, drinking in her features. “You’re drained, Caitlin. Stepping now isn’t just a frivolous waste of a year of your life. It’s potential suicide.”
    “I could do it,” she insisted.
    His mouth quirked a smile. “Of course. The great and powerful witch Caitlin Harris would never risk casting a spell strong enough to bend the Universe’s rules when she was falling-on-her-face exhausted.”
    “So dramatic,” she said with a sniff. And never mind that he was right.
    He reached over and touched her hand – hesitantly, even shyly. “Stay the night,” he said, his voice soft. “I’ll give you the bed, and I’ll take the couch. But stay. Rest. And tomorrow, travel the old-fashioned way. I’ll even drive you to the airport.”
    Her head swam. Aaron had no business being chivalrous, not when she was already on the precipice. He needed to be a jackass, a pompous jerk who thought the world revolved around himself. “You don’t have a car,” she said.
    “Well, I’ll put you in a cab.” He squeezed her hand, once, then snatched his hand away. “If you don’t want to stay with me, can you go back to Paul and Jesse’s and stay there overnight?”
    She shuddered. “Ugh, no. Jesse didn’t even wait for us to leave before she started attacking Paul.”
    Aaron’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “They were still dressed when we snuck out of there.”
    “A temporary condition, I promise you.”
    They shared a laugh.
    “Stay,” Aaron said. And Caitlin agreed – but only for the night. And as long as Aaron took the bed; she’d take the couch.
    As Caitlin finished her coffee, Aaron put the memory box on the table. He’d grabbed it before they had made their unobtrusive exit – carefully ignoring how Jesse was eating Paul’s face – and he’d carried it tucked under his arm as he and Caitlin walked to the coffee shop. Caitlin had noticed Aaron’s fingers brushing it as she worked on her latte, saw his lips move silently. Now she stared at the ornately carved wooden box, and she marvelled how something so small and so beautiful could be so