Fair Warning: This chapter contains adult situations. If that makes you uncomfortable, don't read.

Chapter 4

Duncan lay uneasily on the couch in Evil-Lyn's audience chamber. It was warm enough that he didn't need blankets, which was good because she hadn't given him any. Evil-Lyn herself had left, but not before chaining one of his ankles to the wall. The chain left plenty of room for movement. He could, for instance, reach the pitcher of water and the chamberpot she'd left for him. But, as had been her intention, he could not reach either door. Once she'd left, he'd explored the space as thoroughly as he could. There was nothing useful that wasn't chained to the wall or out of reach.

His dinner had been excellent, but it would have been better if Evil-Lyn hadn't spent most of the time attempting to cozy herself up beside him. He'd put up with her caresses and her teasing for awhile, but his patience eventually snapped.

"Why don't you just leave me alone?" he'd demanded. "I'm trying to eat."

"I don't know why that would get in the way of a little entertainment," she'd said. The words You make me want to vomit had floated in his mind, but he didn't say them, and he was glad to know she couldn't pick up his surface thoughts. That one might have annoyed her.

However, she'd largely restrained herself after that, which, unaccountably, just made him more edgy. He couldn't help wondering what she might be planning.

Eventually, he managed to force himself to sleep. A good soldier sleeps when he can, for a sleepy soldier might as well hand himself over to the enemy. Though in this case that might be redundant, he thought as he drifted off.

He came awake in total blackness, hours later, he thought, aware only that something in the space around him had changed. A hand settled gently on his chest and stroked down to his waist where it slipped underneath the shirt. Automatically, he lifted his hands to push the intruder away, but a low laugh from his left stopped him.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Evil-Lyn murmured, sitting down on the edge of the couch next to his hip and placing her other hand on his arm. "Unless you want to wind up frozen again."

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly with his alarm.

She laughed again, a low throaty sound, and murmured a word that caused the clothing she had provided for him to vanish away in an instant. He stiffened, his sudden nakedness making him feel extremely vulnerable. She leaned closer, her body pressed close against his, skin to skin, her breasts crushed between them. Evidently she was naked as well. He felt his heart rate increase.

"What do you think you are doing?" he demanded in an authoritative voice, trying to shock her into backing away from this insane course of action.

"What do you think, dear Duncan?" she asked, her face very close to his. "I'm getting what I want." She kissed him lightly on the lips. "And I wouldn't recommend trying to push me away. You know what would happen."

Her hands were stroking his chest and arms, and she began nibbling on his neck. Duncan lay motionless on the soft surface, unable to think what he could do to get out of this. He wanted Randor to show up right now and deal with this witch. On second thought, an alarmed part of his mind told him that the last thing he wanted was Randor coming in on this scene. And this is what she wants to do to He-Man, no doubt, Duncan thought, horrified at the thought of sixteen-year-old, innocent Adam in this woman's clutches – looking like an adult.

She stopped her nibbling and tapped him sharply on the cheek with one finger. "You're not paying attention, Duncan. A girl might begin to feel unappreciated."

"What do you want me to do?" he growled at her.

"That's fine, dear," she said, and returned her attention to his ear. He groaned in frustration and she chuckled, her hands twining in his hair, and her breasts brushed against his chest, tickling slightly. A moment later she leaned back and stood up, then straddled him at the waist, kneeling across him. She bent and kissed him full on the mouth, a long, lingering kiss that made him want desperately to shove her across the room. Her hands grew more direct in their movements, teasing at his nipples and tugging playfully at the hair on his chest. When she ended the kiss and moved her attentions elsewhere, he gasped for breath. "Your skin is very soft for a man's," she murmured into his ear. "Such a delight to touch and caress."

"Evil-Lyn, stop th –" he started to say, but she took advantage of his open mouth and kissed him again, delving deep with her tongue and nibbling at his lips. He wanted to cringe back, but there was nowhere to go.

Driven beyond thought in his disgust, his hands found her shoulders to shove her back, but at that moment his joints locked up again and he growled in protest. She paused in her play, and he could almost see the smile that spread across her face. The blasted witch was enjoying this! Enjoying his discomfort and his helpless fury.

"Now, Duncan," she sighed in amusement. "I did warn you." One finger traced the line of his jaw. "What a very peculiar position you've gotten yourself into." She bent and resumed the kiss, and, with his jaw locked open, he could do nothing to stop her. He fumed silently, contemplating just what he wanted to do to her when he was free. She began kissing down his neck and onto his chest, teasing at his skin with her tongue and teeth, her nipples brushing his skin and sending shivers through him. Certain bodily reactions were built in, and he found himself responding in a way he would have preferred not to. A sense of physical pleasure was building in him despite his attempts to push it down, and he felt increasingly powerless as his body betrayed him.

As she shifted herself further and further down, she had to be aware of his physical response, but she moved slowly, caressing the skin on the sides of his hips as she toyed with the skin on his belly. His breath was coming in short, sharp gasps and his heart was beating fast.

Her hands moved gradually in till she was stroking the crease between his legs and his torso, then she began to move up his body again, and he knew what was coming. He was surprised, however, when she slid her hand beneath his left shoulder and whispered, "Release." His joints relaxed, and his hands fell to the sides of the bed, brushing against her knees. He moved them quickly so that he was not touching her. His heart was racing and he was panting for breath.

She gave him another lingering kiss, catching him once more with his mouth open, then she positioned herself above him, her hands on his belly to aid her balance. "Are you ready, lover?" His response was short and profane, which caused her to laugh delightedly.

He grit his teeth and clenched his fists as she carefully, deliberately, and very slowly, took him inside her. Her movements were slow but vigorous as she brought his body to a fever pitch. He bit his lip to hold back the moans she was drawing forth from him and closed his eyes, even though he couldn't see her anyway.

The orgasm, he reflected, striving for scientific detachment, is a release of tension. Why was it that when one sort of tension released, another began? Revulsion and anger coiled in his gut, and he wanted nothing more than for her to go away. She relaxed over the top of him and nibbled a bit more on his neck, but she was clearly largely done with him for the night. A few moments later, she curled up atop him and, sighing softly, fell asleep.

Duncan's mind boggled when he realized that she was actually going to stay there. But there was literally nothing he could do. If he grabbed her, his joints would lock and he'd be frozen for the rest of the night. He tried to slow his breathing and still his heart rate, but it wasn't easy. His rage at being so manipulated and used sent adrenalin coursing through his body, making it very difficult to calm himself down. He eventually fell asleep again, but for a long time he jerked awake every time she shifted or made the slightest noise.

The palace had been quiet for hours when Adam's father entered Adam's study. Adam didn't even look up, he was so absorbed in the facts he was correlating.

"Adam," the king said.

"Yes, Father?" Adam replied, still scanning a page of text to verify his memory. An idea had come to him, a bizarre and irrational idea, but it seemed to be panning out.

"It's three in the morning," his father said, yawning. "Go to bed."

"I can't, Father," Adam muttered. "If I stop now I might lose this thread." He marked a check on the chart he'd created, then dropped the book on a pile that was accumulating on the floor next to his chair. He got up and scanned the shelves. Finding the next book he needed, he pulled it out, sat down and started looking for the page he remembered.

"But you need sleep, son."

He looked up, frustrated by the interruption. "I couldn't sleep now if I tried," he said sharply. "I'll go to bed soon. I've only got two or three more books to go through. Then I'll need to sleep, just to make sure this isn't an insanity that makes no sense in the morning."

His father stared at him a moment longer. "All right, son. Just be sure you're in bed within the hour." Adam took a swallow of the hot chocolate that a servant had brought awhile ago. It wasn't all that hot at this point, but it didn't much matter. "Yes, Father," he said he said absently.

Randor came around the table and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Adam, I'm very proud of you. Good night."

Adam looked up in shock as Randor left, but he had no time to think about what his father had said. He kept scanning the text, found what he was looking for, marked his chart and sought another book.

Deeply asleep, Duncan had a dream that he'd had often in the past, a pleasant, pleasurable dream of a young woman he'd known many years before when he'd been hardly more than a boy himself. Amantha had not wanted to marry a soldier, and he had not wanted to be a clerk in her father's shop. Nevertheless, they'd parted without acrimony and he remembered the few months they'd spent together fondly.

As the dream reached its climax, he awoke abruptly in the darkness to find himself in the midst of a nightmare. Evil-Lyn once more straddled him, and his hands were on her hips, guiding her movements. He tightened his grip, preparing to throw her across the room, but the spell activated once more, freezing his hands. She moaned appreciatively.

"Awake, lover?" she asked, an amused note in her voice. Duncan wanted to growl, but he was caught on the wave of ecstasy the dream had created. Unable to prevent it, he groaned at the sensations her movement stirred in him. She let out a small sound of pleasure as his tension spent itself, and then she leaned over him. "That was a delightful way to wake up," she purred in his ear, then bit his neck playfully. Her hand slid beneath him and she dismissed the spell that held him rigid. He removed his hands from her body immediately and clutched the sides of the couch, his stomach roiling in disgust and revulsion. "I think you need a wider bed," she said, twining herself around him.

"I think you need to get off me," he snarled. She laughed, tugging gently at the hair on his chest with her fingers.

"Who is Amantha?" she asked softly. Sliding out from under her evidently didn't count as an attack, for Duncan managed to get up and walk away. His retreat was brought up short at the end of the chain, however, which rattled metallically when it pulled him to a halt. The amused laughter that followed him made him clench his fists in fury. "Ordinarily a girl doesn't like her lover to cry out another woman's name in the throes of passion, but if she brings out this response in you, please, think of her often."

The light came back suddenly, and he turned his head to look over his shoulder. Evil-Lyn was no longer on the couch. He was quite alone.

He walked back over and sat down. Randor would come for him. He-Man would come for him. Unless Skeletor was attacking the palace or Grayskull to keep them occupied. He buried his face in his hands. He hope Evil-Lyn hadn't lied to him about the extent of the king's injuries. And Adam, what had happened to Adam? Why wasn't He-Man already here? For all he knew, Adam could be severely wounded or – his mind shied away from the thought – dead.

"I hope you're not too tired," Evil-Lyn said from across the room. Duncan stood in surprise at her unannounced entrance, and she smiled at him, eyes exploring his body proprietarily. He stood calmly, bearing her scrutiny, for there was nothing he could do to stop her and he would not cower before her. She was dressed in her full regalia, he was pleased to see. "Skeletor expects a certain level of competence," she added.

He said nothing, merely waiting for her to tell him what she wanted. She reached out a hand and the cuff that shackled his ankle released. Beckoning with one finger, she said, "It's time for another bath."

Duncan went with her to the bathing chamber where she turned and faced him, placing one hand on his chest. He didn't move. She'd probably just follow him around the room if he tried to back away, and he wasn't going to play tag with her. "I'm afraid I have some work this morning, so I won't be accompanying you to the workshop. I'll be there around noon, however, so if you don't want to find yourself in agony, you'd best get a good morning's work in." He set his teeth and nodded. She took a step back herself, her fingers lingering on his chest and looked him over. He lifted his chin and closed his eyes, willing himself to ignore her as she walked around his body, fingers tracing an invisible line around him at her shoulder height. "You really are magnificent, my dear Duncan."

"I'm not your dear anything," he said curtly.

She stopped front of him and put a hand on his right shoulder for a balance point as she raised up on tiptoe to place a gentle kiss on his lips. "Oh, but you are," she murmured, running that hand down his chest as she stood back down again. "You are."

He didn't trust himself to speak, and if he moved he was going to try to knock her into a wall, which would be pointless and probably just amuse her more. He stood still, staring at a point on the opposite wall.

"I'd bathe quickly, if I were you," she said, her voice going abruptly business-like, though her fingers still lingered on his chest, tracing his muscles. "Tri-Klops will be here soon to take you to work. Clothes are on that chair," she added, pointing. He glanced and saw an outfit like the one he'd worn the day before. "I'll see you later, lover," she said, looking up at him, her eyes full of promise.

"Not if I can help it," he muttered. She laughed and left the room, locking the door behind her.

He took her at her word, and bathed rapidly, scrubbing hard at his skin where she had touched him, as though her touch was a mark he could wash off. The door opened as he pulled the shirt on over his head. Tri-Klops grabbed him by the arm and yanked him into the hallway, shoving him ahead of him. He bore the man's overt hostility quietly, knowing that there was little point in fighting back. It would only make him angrier and more violent.

When they arrived at the workshop, Tri-Klops slammed him up against the door frame, then let him go through the door. Duncan threw a glance at his companion's face. The other man's temper was in check, but only barely. He wasn't unusually harsh when he placed the shackle around his ankle, but he radiated controlled rage. Duncan would have to tread carefully with him today. Without speaking, Duncan started to work. His silence seemed to be calming Tri-Klops' anger, because the technician came to work beside him.

As time passed, the other engineer gradually began to discuss the next steps with him. They agreed that Duncan would work on the leads because Tri-Klops had limited experience working with dendromine. For Duncan's part, he knew it was a finicky, time-consuming process, and he could milk it for a lot of wasted time.

Duncan was sitting at the workbench, carefully applying the dendromine to new wires while Tri-Klops bolted the framework together when voices outside made both men freeze.

"If Evil-Lyn can persuade Man-At-Arms to stay here," Skeletor was saying, "then we'll have no trouble at all in defeating the masters." Duncan closed his eyes in dismay. If there was anything that could put the cap on his humiliation, it was the lord of Snake Mountain knowing what Evil-Lyn was doing to him. And discussing it with his lackeys.

"Yeah!" Beastman agreed. "We could crush those stupid masters."

"Maybe we should give them Tri-Klops in return. Hardly a fair trade, but who cares."

Duncan opened his eyes and looked around at the other engineer. He held a wrench in his hand and his knuckles were white with the force of his grip. He shifted back on his haunches, giving Duncan just enough time to drop what he was doing and turn to meet the sudden rush as Tri-Klops launched himself at him, smashing him through the workbench.

Duncan seized the other man's arms and threw him off, surging to his feet, scrabbling for another tool as he rose. He came up with a pry bar. There was nothing he could say to cool Tri-Klops fury, he'd just have to hope he could defend himself. The glint of energy building in Tri-Klops' red eye warned Duncan that he was about to fire, and he threw himself to the side. The shackle on his ankle yanked back, and he fell headlong, rolling just in time to avoid a blow from the wrench. Metal clanged on stone.

"I'll kill you!" Tri-Klops growled, and Duncan believed he meant it. That he had no desire for the position offered by Skeletor would make no difference to Tri-Klops. It wasn't really Duncan he was angry at, but Duncan was the target of opportunity. And he clearly saw Duncan as a rival.

Duncan grappled with the other technician as he fell on him. Tri-Klops tossed the wrench aside and reached both hands out for his neck. Knowing that he was fighting for his life, Duncan gripped and hung on to Tri-Klops' wrists, striving to keep him from getting a stranglehold on him.

Suddenly, Tri-Klops began to rise slowly off him. Duncan released his wrists as the other man levitated into the air, floating about four feet above him.

"What are you doing, Tri-Klops?" Evil-Lyn demanded from the doorway.

He didn't answer, but Duncan's eyes widened as he saw that the ocular cannon was charging again. He rolled to the side just in time, and the bolt crashed to the floor beside him, singing his hair.

Evil-Lyn flung Tri-Klops across the room where he crashed into the wall, destroying the shelves and sending their contents cascading to the floor, followed shortly by the man himself. He rose out of the mess and glared at Evil-Lyn.

Duncan got slowly to his feet, not sure if it was wiser to stand or to lie flat at this moment.

"You will clean up this mess!" Evil-Lyn commanded, glaring at the three-eyed engineer. "It's clear that you cannot be trusted alone with our guest, so I will be personally supervising this project henceforth." Duncan gazed apprehensively at the growing fury on Tri-Klops' face, but the man held it in. "I expect that this workshop will be ready for continued work tomorrow morning." She looked aside at Duncan and released the shackle with a gesture. "Come along, Duncan."

Tomorrow morning? Duncan thought. What is she going to do with me for the rest of today? "I could help Tri-Klops clear away this mess," he suggested tentatively.

Her eyes narrowed. Evidently shows of rebellion amused her less when there was an audience. She snapped her fingers, and he felt a collar appear around his neck. He reached up a hand in surprise and gazed at the leash that now extended from his neck to her hand. She tugged hard and he stumbled forward. "Come along!" she ordered. Duncan drew his shoulders back and walked out of the room after her, hoping devoutly that none of the minions would see them in the halls.

He looked from side to side and saw that the walls here were hung with trophies from past battles, some of them long-past. Helms from fallen enemies, he blinked as he noticed that his breastplate now hung between two doors. He averted his eyes, and stopped dead as something on the opposite wall caught his eye. Randor's old sword hung there, the one he'd used during the battle during which He-Man had appeared, immediately after the fall of the Mystic Wall. Crossing it was the Power Sword, and above them both hung one of Adam's wrist guards. He stared in shock. No wonder He-Man hadn't come for him. What did it mean?

Evil-Lyn turned back when she felt the leash go taut. "Oh, did you notice your breastplate?" she asked. "I wanted to hang it in my room, but –" When she saw the direction his eyes had taken, though she broke off and walked back to join him. "No . . . I see you're interested in our Royal Eternian display."

He turned on her slowly, hands clenched at his sides so that he wouldn't lunge at her. "Where is Adam?" he demanded.

Giving him a perplexed look, "How should I know?" she exclaimed impatiently, rolling her eyes. "I'd imagine he's hiding in the palace behind his bodyguards."

"But, how?" he pointed at the sword and Adam's wrist guard.

"Oh, that? According to Whiplash, the prince dropped it when his bodyguards tackled him to the ground."

"They did what?" That sounded all too possible to Duncan's horrified mind, and it explained a great deal about that fight.

"It does sound rather amusing, doesn't it? Whiplash said that they were almost more of a menace to him than our forces were." Duncan had known that bodyguards would be a difficult thing for Adam to deal with combined with his secret, but – tackled to the ground? He'd have to have a little chat with Raon when he got back. "And the other, well, that's from one of Skeletor's more fabulous fiascos." He glanced at her, curious despite himself. "He sent Beastman with some of his hounds to sniff out He-Man, and all they found was that." She was pointing at Adam's bracer, and Duncan hoped his reaction didn't show on his face. He was appalled by how close the villains had come to discovering the secret. Clearly, however, they hadn't given the truth any consideration. She tugged on his leash again, impatient to be gone. "Come along, lover. We have things to do." She looked him up and down. "For one thing, I need to tend those wounds."

He turned horrified eyes on her, and she laughed. He glanced back at the Power Sword and sighed. Rescue suddenly seemed considerably farther off.

Duncan lay back, mortified, in the bath. Evil-Lyn had followed him in again, to watch, or so he thought, but she'd waved a hand, dismissing the clothing as she had the night before. He glared at her, but he climbed into the tub. The moment he was sitting down, however, she'd come up behind him and tied the leash to the head of the bath in such a way that he couldn't sit forward very far at all. The only comfortable position, in fact, was leaning back against the wall of the tub.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm bathing you, darling," she said in a taunting voice. "You're injured. Doesn't a good woman bathe her man's wounds?"

"You're not a good woman!" he exclaimed. "I can bathe myself."

"I'm hurt, truly!" she said mockingly. "And after I saved you from Tri-Klops."

"That wasn't for me," he said sourly. "You just didn't want him to break your toy."

She removed her bracers and her armlets and set aside her headdress, revealing close-cropped white hair. He didn't really want her removing any of her garments, but stopping her was beyond his power. She wet a sponge and squeezed warm water across his chest. He flinched as she reached down and spread the water with her hand, but he kept his hands still, not wanting to wind up frozen again. This woman was evil and twisted, and had a bizarre sense of humor. He'd known that before, but this whole situation just confirmed his opinion.

The soap she had in here was in gel form. She reached out and took up the crystal vial, poured some onto his chest and started to lather him up, paying careful attention to all the more sensitive areas. He closed his eyes and lay back, trying unsuccessfully to think of her as one of the medics at the palace. He'd been bathed by them before when he was too injured to do it himself. As her hands roamed across the front of his body, however, he was forced to recall that he wasn't that injured, and she wasn't a medic. For one thing, the touch of the palace medics was impersonal and business-like. Evil-Lyn's was anything but impersonal.

"Are you enjoying yourself, lover?" she asked, stroking his cheek with one wet hand.

He opened his eyes and looked at her curiously. "Which would please you more?" he asked. "If I said yes or if I said no?"

She gave him a thoughtful, appraising look. "I don't know. I think equally, for different reasons." She smiled at him, one of her hands stroking his abdomen, the other the inside of his thigh. "Why? Are you likely to say yes?"

He looked away from her toward the wall and she laughed again. He was beginning to loathe the sound of her laughter. Closing his eyes again he thought furiously, trying to distract himself from the way she was tormenting him. He-Man's sword was mounted on the wall in Snake Mountain, the Elders only knew if anyone had told the Sorceress anything yet. He snorted No, Randor had probably sent a messenger to let her know that her 'suitor' was in trouble. But that wouldn't have been Adam. Whether the boy had been injured in the ambush or not, Randor wasn't likely to let him out of the palace any time again soon. So there was no way to guess if she knew that He-Man was out of commission.

"I think you're distracted again, lover," Evil-Lyn said, a low menacing tone in her voice. His eyes flipped open to see hostile lavender eyes gazing at him from mere inches away. "You must learn, Duncan, that I expect a man to pay attention to me when I'm with him." She stood up and began to unhook the bodice of her garment.

"Doesn't it disturb you that having you undress in front of me is seen as a punishment?"
Her eyes flashed fire, but she smiled at him and her hands continued to work at her clothing. "Oh, but I'm not going to punish you, my dear. I'm just going to make it very difficult for you to ignore me." He started to turn his head, but she caught his earlobe between her fingernails. "Don't look away, Duncan, or I might become angry."

She finished disrobing, revealing a figure that was everything her garments promised. No padding there, either, he thought.

"You know, Evil-Lyn, you are beautiful." She raised an eyebrow, suspicious of the compliment. "You're beautiful, witty, intelligent, and even reasonably competent when the others here don't get in your way." She nodded, eyes still wary. "You might even be attractive if you weren't out to destroy everything I hold dear."

"Really?" she asked, stepping closer to the tub. "And here I thought you were already attracted to me." Leaning down, she slowly ran a hand from the center of his chest to his groin, bringing forth an involuntary physical response. He grit his teeth as she gazed at his body, then looked back at his face. "It certainly seems so," she observed maliciously.

"That's something I can't control," he groaned. "It's nothing to do with you." She removed her hand and slipped over the side of the tub to kneel across him, taking full advantage of the excitement her touch had engendered. He squirmed, trying to get away from her, but the leash at his neck and the confines of the tub foiled him, and his movements merely caused events to speed up. When it was over, she sat back and gazed contentedly at him. Groaning in protest, he pulled his knees up to his chest, allowing her to splash down into the other end of the tub. He expected this to irritate her, but she laughed once more, and, rising on her knees, she leaned forward, pressing close to him.

Her face was inches from his when she spoke. "You say you can't control this response, that it's nothing to do with me, hmm?" He glared at her, but did not reply. "But somehow, I doubt that Skeletor could elicit such a reaction." The image this called to his mind made his flesh creep and he shuddered. She pulled on his ankles to force his legs down on either side of her. He started to resist, but realized it was futile. She meant to have her way with him and he could not stop her. She'd proven three times over that he couldn't. Evil-Lyn wrapped her own legs around his waist, stroking his chest and sides with her hands. "It is quite possible for a man to be completely unresponsive with a woman who utterly repels him." After their bout of intercourse, his body was sensitized to her touch, and every caress sent shivers through him.

He clenched his teeth and his fists and looked away, at the wall over her shoulder. "Just admit it, my dear, dear Duncan. There is some part of you that's enjoying this, that doesn't want me to stop."

"No, there isn't," he grated through his clenched jaw.

She cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look her in the eyes. "Whether you want to admit it consciously or no, you are attracted to me. You want me on a very basic level."

"Perhaps," he agreed reluctantly, then, to quench the look of triumph in her eyes, he added, "On a purely physical level. Otherwise, you disgust me."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Do I?" Her hands left his face and began to wander again along his neck and shoulders.

"The pleasure you're taking in this – this –" He could not find a word he was willing to use. "It's revolting."

"But Duncan, you're taking pleasure, too. Most unwillingly, but it is pleasure."

He thumped his head back against the tub behind him. The only things he could say would anger her, and somehow he didn't want to do that in this enormously vulnerable position. You nauseate me might make her just the slightest bit annoyed. And he could not entirely deny the truth of her words. His body thrilled to her touch, no matter how hard he tried to deny it, no matter how hard he tried to fight it. He covered his face with his hands. Obviously Evil-Lyn was competent at anything she set her hand to.

"What are you doing to me?" he demanded. "Is it a spell? Is it witchcraft?"

"It's the oldest magic in the world," she murmured, leaning close. "And you, of all people, should understand chemistry." She took his wrists and pulled his hands away from his face, leaning in to drop a kiss on his lips. "This is good, isn't it, Duncan? If I were another woman, if this wasn't Snake Mountain, you wouldn't be fighting me at all."

"But that's the point, Evil-Lyn, you're not another woman, and this is Snake Mountain. And you've bound me here by sorcery."

"You could stay here by choice," she whispered into his ear. "If you're concerned about what those you've left behind would think, you need never leave Snake Mountain again. We could provide them with a body so they could mourn you and move on."

Duncan stiffened. "I could not!" he snapped. "I don't want to stay here, Evil-Lyn. Nothing you could do would persuade me to that."

She gave him a lazy smile. "We'll just have to see about that." He opened his mouth to retort, but she forestalled him with a kiss.

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