"My reluctant slave, so innocent and so afraid, let me show you what it can be like." His words were gentle, his fingers lingering against the base of her neck, his faint touch burning like fire on her skin. "Turn around."

Hesitating for the briefest of moments, she complied, slowly turning her back to him. He regarded her for a moment, studying her. The dragon ring on his left glistened faintly in the flickering light of the fire as he finally lifted his hand. Brushing aside her lush, dark hair, he traced his fingertips gently across the back of her neck, across the angry red wound between her shoulder blades and down her spine. The movement, slow, deliberate, skilled – meant to give pleasure not pain. A shiver ran through her as his fingers brushed against the back neckline of her dress, he halted the slow, steady movement of his hand, his fingertips lingering on the embroidered neckline for a moment. The candles in the room flickered, and the faintest gust of wind brushed over her skin, like the gentle caress of a lover. And then, his fingertips continued their path, slowly, deliberately and inexorably trailing over the silk of her dress. Katherine gasped. In spite of the layers of fabric, she felt his touch on her skin as if nothing separated them, his hand directly on her naked flesh, the touch of his fingers raising goose bumps in their wake.

"It is merely an illusion – trust me, Katherine, let me guide you." He whispered into her ear, his voice low, almost seductive.

The last remnants of resolve crumbled around her like the walls of a falling city, and she relaxed into his touch. Smiling faintly, he placed an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. The moment their bodies touched, the air around them seemed to move, wavering like a heat haze in the scorching deserts of the East. Her vision blurred and she felt a tingling sensation run down her spine as if she was falling. Everything seemed to move as if the world around her was spinning rapidly out of control, with the man standing behind her the only constant in the midst of this violent tempest. And then it was over.

A shudder ran through her body. The room around them had changed, it was empty as if a raging fire had consumed everything within, leaving nothing behind, not even cinders. The room felt incomplete, like the fragment of a dream, constantly shifting, moving and changing when she was not looking too closely at the details. Looking up, her eyes followed the elegant columns, which rose like beanstalks into the air, culminating into a semi-circular dome high above her head – like a grotesque, diabolical imitation of a cathedral. Everything was completely still, there was no movement, no sound as if time itself had stopped.

Moonlight was falling in through the countless windows, the silver light illuminating the lone figure standing in the middle of the deserted room. A figure that had not been there only moments ago. A woman.

She stood completely still as if she was frozen in time. Her head was half turned away from them, her lush dark hair falling down her back, covering her profile. She was looking at something or someone standing in the shadows. Katherine's eyes followed her gaze. Someone was there, lingering in the darkness, observing the woman just as Katherine watched her. Suddenly a tall figure stepped into the faint light, almost as if it had materialised out of thin air. It was the Prince.

Katherine gasped. How was this possible? She knew him to stand right behind her, holding her against his chest, she could feel him, touch him – yet at the same time, he was there, right before her eyes.

Mesmerised she watched him move across the room like a spectre, stepping closer to the woman. Lifting his hand, he trailed it through her long dark hair, and she shivered visibly under his touch. He circled her slowly, every step calm, measured and controlled. The woman did not move, but Katherine could see the heaving of her chest. Suddenly she turned her head, glancing at the eerie spectre of the Prince, her eyes following him as he stepped around her. For the briefest of moments, the woman's face was shielded from Katherine's sight by his tall figure, but then he moved out of her line of vision, and she could see her. The woman was looking directly at her. No, not at her, but through her, as if she did not exist. Katherine gasped. She was watching herself.

A cold shiver of terror ran down her spine. What was this, what was he doing to her? She wanted to move away from him, from the real man, the living, breathing creature standing behind her, holding her against his chest – but his firm grasp stopped her.

"Just watch." He whispered into her ear, holding her close. "It is just an illusion. You are safe here with me. Trust me."

His voice was soft, gentle, persuasive – the lure of the Devil, tempting her to follow him into the abyss. With a shudder, she gave in to it, returning her gaze to the scene that was playing out before her. It felt like she was standing in a dream, a silent spectator, watching it unfold – watching herself with him.

Her heart raced, hammering against her chest. Katherine watched transfixed as the Prince stepped closer to her, lifting his hand, brushing her twin's lush hair over her shoulder – exposing her neck. Katherine gasped. She could feel the gentle brush of his hand on her skin as if he had not touched her spectral twin, but her – as if his hand was brushing directly over her skin.

What was this nightmare, what was he doing to her? But in spite of her terror, she found that she could not avert her eyes from the diabolical display before her, because some dark, obscure part of her mind wanted to see, to know and to experience it.

The Prince raised his arm, holding a long, thin dagger in his hand. The steel of the blade glistened in the faint moonlight, giving it the appearance of a living, breathing creature, a coiling snake ready to strike. Placing the cold blade against the back of her neck, he let it trail up her spine towards her neck. Katherine gasped, closing her eyes. She could feel the touch of the blade, feel it on the other woman, feel it just as if it was touching her.

She swayed, and she felt him – the living, breathing man behind her – steady her. Transfixed she watched – and felt, as the blade slid up the woman's back, sliding under the black ribbon that held her dress together. The sharp blade cut easily through the delicate material, severing it. The strap fell down her shoulders and the dress cascaded down to the ground like a waterfall. Katherine watched it fall, mesmerised by the flowing motion of the fabric, feeling the sensual touch of the silk as it slid across the woman's skin, her skin. The sensation was strangely arousing, forbidden.

And then, he placed his hand in her hair, gently forcing her to lift her head and look at her image in the mirror before them – the mirror which had not been there only moments ago.

"Watch." He commanded softly, and Katherine heard his words as if the eerie spectre had whispered them directly into her ear.

Her eerie twin opened her eyes obediently and looked at her image in the ornate Venetian mirror. For a fraction of a moment, Katherine saw herself, through the eyes of the other woman, watching herself in the mirror. The image of her exposed, helpless body was sensual, carnal and deeply unsettling.

The black clad figure of the Prince was almost invisible in the dim surroundings, while her naked body shone almost white in the silver light of the moon. Their eyes met in the mirror, and he held her gaze as he placed a kiss on her shoulder. The touch of his lips sent a shiver through her body, and she moved, coiling sensually under his touch- almost like a string-puppet, guided from the shadows by the hands of a masterful puppeteer.

Slowly, her eerie twin turned around to her lover and lifting her hand, she slid it in his short, dark hair, pulling him to her. Closing her eyes, she kissed him. Katherine could taste his lips, feel them – they were cool and firm under hers, sure and restrained, not demanding, but following her pace. Gently he pulled her closer to him, whispering her name. As if in a trance her hands found the metal clasps of his tunic, opening them one by one. Feverishly she pushed the vest from his shoulders, her fingers tracing over the hard muscles of his chest. He deepened his kiss as she ran her hands down his flat stomach, feeling the solid muscles move beneath his skin, her fingertips tracing along the scars that covered his torso. And then he moved, suddenly, swiftly, catching her off guard – reaching for her waist and hauling her to the ground with him and pulling her into his lap, her legs spread to either side of him.

She looked down at him, relishing the illusion of control, of power – even though it only came at his sufferance, knowing that he could take it from her at his leisure.

With a shiver, she pressed her lips against his – tasting, exploring, demanding. She felt the cool leather of his breeches brush against the naked skin on the inside of her thighs, feeling the hard muscles of his upper leg flex as he moved. Driven by a growing need, she pressed herself against him, demanding more. Sliding one hand into her lush brown hair, he searched her eyes for the answer to his unspoken question. She lowered her gaze in a silent gesture of consent. Smiling faintly, he lifted his upper body off the ground in a calm, controlled motion. Facing her, he pulled her closer to him until the gentle swell of her breast touched his chest, his left hand on the small of her back, steadying her, holding her upright in his lap.

Katherine shut her eyes for the briefest of moments, absorbed by the unfamiliar, tingling sensation that filled her, threatening to spin out of control. Pressing her back against her captor's chest, Katherine directed her eyes back at the carnal scene that played out before her. A tremor ran down her spine as she watched their bodies join, feeling the desire pulsing through her like a tidal wave, gaining in intensity as their passionate coupling became ever more urgent. And then she gasped, her body trembling under the onslaught of sensations – feeling every touch, every emotion, every sensation as if she were one with her spectral twin.

And then everything spiralled out of control. Her body trembled, and she turned to the man behind her, the real, living man, clinging to him for dear life.

Katherine felt his hand in her hair, tilting her head up to him, kissing her, smothering her passionate cry with his lips. And then the spell was broken, there was only him, his touch, his lips on hers. She closed her eyes, leaning into his passionate kiss, oblivious that her spectral twin was slowly dying in the arms of her lover, clinging to him as the life slowly seeped out of her.