In case anyone forgot, I'm just being a fangirl over here. As much as I would love to own the Phantom (especially Gerry's version, oh oh or Ramin Karimloo's version!), I don't, so don't sue :) Everything belongs to Leroux, ALW, and Charles Hart.

Without further ado, here's chapter two, rewritten!

Enjoy!

Christine sat, dazed, in the boat. Where was she? What was this place? All the candles and the magnificent organ… How did she get here? Was she not just in her dressing room? Then she heard it and lost all train of thought. She heard her Angel's glorious voice, sweeping toward her. In this cavern, it encircled her, washed over her, bathing her in its splendor. Its deep, rich tones were riddled with masculinity. The well-known voice coaxed her out of the thick fog of her hypnotized mind, and she relaxed into the boat.

"I have brought you to the seat of sweet music's throne, to this kingdom where all must pay homage to music," he sang to her.

It was then that she truly noticed the figure in front of her. The source of the voice was as beautiful to her as the sound that emanated from it. He was tall, well-dressed, and very nicely built. She could only see half of his face, but what little she saw was stunning and left her awestruck. But she was intrigued most of all by the object that covered the right side of his face… The stark white mask. Only his eyes could compete with that peculiar object. His clear, green, bright eyes lured her into them and pierced her soul.

"You have come here for one purpose and one alone," she held her breath as he continued to sing to her. "Since the moment I first heard you sing, I have needed you with me, to serve me, to sing for my music." She quickly licked her lips, baffled at her feelings. "My music," he repeated, almost as if needing an answer to an unasked question.

Giving her his hand, he led her slowly out of the boat. Was this a dream? Was this ballad that he was singing to her only in her mind? She could hardly tell. If it was a dream, she never wanted to wake up. His voice enveloped her and sang of the music of the night. Her senses were overrun with music and touch until she could not tell the difference between them. As his music caressed her soul, she was only vaguely aware of his hands on her waist, his body against her back. All too soon, his touch was gone, replaced only by his engulfing voice.

He continued his serenade as he motioned for her to look inside a small alcove. Smiling and trusting, she did as she was beckoned. But as she saw what was inside, the smile was replaced with a look of confusion and fear. Inside the alcove, she saw herself. But blackness and a feeling of falling soon replaced the vision of herself clad in a white wedding dress reaching toward her.

...

Erik smiled to himself as he carried Christine from the alcove. Gently, he laid her in the embrace of the red satin sheets of his swan-adorned bed. He pulled a golden cord and caused a veil to close around her beautiful, sleeping body. Then he retreated to his organ to think.

She had responded perfectly to his song for her, and of course the mannequin as well. Though he hadn't expected her to be so startled by seeing herself in the dress, he was stilled pleased with her. His plans would still continue, and hopefully without a hitch.

His thoughts quickly strayed from his scheming and focused on the feel of her body lying back, flush with his. As he sang to her, she had relaxed and leaned against him, letting him explore her upper body with his gloved hands. He had concentrated very hard to stop from grinding against her, but his thoughts were filthy. As he sang sweet music to her, he thought of bending her over the large organ and taking her. He had reveled in the way her hair caressed his chin as she laid her head against his chest. Her smell had been so intoxicating. It was indescribable and frustrating, like a memory of something you couldn't quite remember.

He had to distract himself from his growing need to satiate the tension inside his body. His lust was overwhelming him, so he turned to his composition. His music was his escape. Losing himself in his passion, he blocked everything but the music from his mind and senses. He didn't even notice that Christine had woken up.

I promise this is the last super short chapter guys. Thanks for sticking with me!