A man knelt on a bed approximately where I should have been. I couldn't tell who it was because a black velvet mask covered most of his face except for cutouts for the eyes. It looked comical, like part of a bad Halloween costume, but I didn't feel like laughing. Maybe because it was the only thing he wore. Long auburn curls hung below the velvet, sticking to his upper body, and in the candlelight they gleamed with strands of bronze and hints of gold. The warm, faintly golden light of the room drenched him, dripping down his skin from the muscular chest to the flat planes of his stomach and the slight indentation of his navel. It glistened on the tiny beads of sweat dewing his torso that the chill from the window had yet to dry, so he looked like he was wearing a transparent shirt strung with tiny diamonds. He was a gilt statue come to life, except that statues aren't generally rampantly erect. I swallowed and so did he, and the blue eyes in the mirror widened as realization hit.

But that was crazy, not to mention impossible. I didn't star in my visions. I was a watcher, off to the sidelines, as unseen and uninvolved as a ghost. Or, at least, I had been until tonight. Before I could even start to think what to do, I felt a warm hand close over me in a very personal place, and looked down in shock to find a brunette young woman lying beneath me, almost buried in the heap of blankets on the bed. The room smelled of sex, musty and heavy, and now I knew why.

A dainty little hand played over my—his—flesh with a sure touch. She stroked me again, harder this time, and I watched with something close to horror as an anatomical part I'd never possessed grew even longer under her hand. A flood of familiar sensations came from that very unfamiliar equipment, along with thoughts I was absolutely sure weren't mine. She flicked a fingernail over the rosy tip that had curved towards her and I almost screamed. Arousal had never felt like this. Of course, my experience wasn't exactly extensive, and it came from the other side of the coin, but this was almost unbearable. I was used to a languid heat that built slowly and spread from my core outwards along my veins, not this desperate need to thrust into her white body as deeply as I could.

She writhed in the blankets that lay thick and soft against our naked skin. "What is wrong, handsome one? Don't tell me you've lost interest already!" She sped up her pace and I suddenly found it hard to breathe. "You can manage a third; I know it."

My almost-trance broke when she moved closer, wetting her lips, and I flung myself back. I yelped in pain, both because she hesitated for a second before letting go, and from my borrowed body's demand for release. It was so stimulated it was painful, but I was in no way interested in what was on offer. I honestly thought I was going to be sick as I stared from her bemused expression to the undeniably male form I was wearing. There are no words for what I was feeling—utter confusion and disbelief miss it by a hell of a lot.

My hands scrambled for the edge of the mask and yanked it up. Staring at me from the mirror was Louis-César's face, white with shock. I wanted to scream at him to make this stop, to get out of me, but I knew it was the other way around. Somehow, I had invaded him, and I had no idea how I'd done it or how to undo it. The woman let out a shriek and grabbed for the mask, tugging it out of my hand and trying to put it back in place.

"Don't take risks, monsieur. You know how literal your keepers can be—never take it off." She smiled up at me wickedly. "Besides, I like it when you wear it while we make love." She wrapped her arms around my neck and tried to draw me down to her. "I'm cold without your heat. Kiss me."

I jerked away from her and scrambled to the end of the bed, wondering what would happen if I gave in to the black fog at the edge of my vision and fainted. Would I wake up back where I belonged, or was I stuck here? I decided to not even think about that last possibility. After a moment, the woman sighed and lay back on the bed, caressing her small breasts lightly. Her nipples were very brown against the white of her skin, and she watched me with a knowing smile. "Are you tired, my love?" Her hand trailed lower, tangling in the dark hair of her groin, and she smirked. "I'll wager I can revive you."

Before I could even try to persuade my overloaded brain to think up an answer, the heavy oak door opened and a middle-aged woman entered, flanked by four guards. Her expression told me she hadn't come to join in, thank God. "Get him up." Two of the guards dragged me out of the bed, and the woman I'd recently gotten to know far too well shrieked and pulled the covers up to her chin.

"Marie! What are you doing? Get out this minute! Get out, get out!"

The older woman ignored her and looked at me, the scorn on her already unattractive face not improving her looks. Her eyes ran over me contemptuously. "Always ready, I see. You get that from your father." She glanced at the guards. "Bring him. "

I was forced out of the room with no chance to get dressed. The brunette tossed me a heavy brocaded robe, which I slipped over the embarrassing evidence of my condition, but there was no time to get shoes or even trousers. The girl in the bed screeched strange obscenities after us, most directed at the older woman. It dawned on me that she was not speaking English, although I could understand her perfectly. Or maybe this body could, and was somehow translating for me. I had no time to wonder about it, since I was manhandled down a long stone corridor to a set of stairs. They had deep hollows in the center of each step, where thousands of feet had walked over hundreds of years. It was dark down there and the air coming up was freezing, to the point that I was surprised that I couldn't see my breath in front of my face.

The woman paused at the top of the stairs and turned to me. She didn't look scornful now; the emotion in her dark eyes was closer to fear. "I will go no farther. I have already seen what waits for you, and have no wish to do so again." Her expression changed to something like pity. "All your life, you have experienced the rewards that come from silence. Tonight you will learn the punishment for breaking it."

She turned away without another word and the guards started to muscle me towards that black hole. I was stronger in this body, but nowhere near enough to allow me to take on those guys. I looked wildly back at the woman, but she was already walking away, spine stiff and straight under her mulberry-colored dress. "Please! Madame! Why are you doing this? I have said nothing, I swear it!" The words weren't mine—they popped to my lips uninvited—and they didn't stop her.

"If you want to know who to credit with this night's work, ask your brother," she flung over her shoulder before disappearing into a room and shutting the door firmly behind her. It was a very final sound.

The stairs were too narrow for my captors to keep hold of my arms, but since they were behind me and there was nowhere to go but down, it didn't really matter. There was almost no light; only a few thin slivers of moonlight filtered in through ridiculously narrow windows as we descended. The steps were slick with damp, and the depression in the middle made it almost impossible to keep my footing, especially without shoes. I was also uncomfortably cold despite the robe, although at least that seemed to have gotten rid of any lingering arousal. But a very unfamiliar weight hung slack between my legs, an unwelcome and alien sensation that was doing more than anything else to make me want to start yelling and just not stop. I stubbed my toe about halfway down but was almost grateful for the pain; I was very close to losing it entirely, and the throbbing in my foot gave me something else to think about.