AN: I don't normally post things this quickly, but I think I need to give you a bit more of a look at where this is going. So here is part 2!

Many thanks to Erik'sTrueAngel for the beta read, to T'eyla Minh for pointing out the Americanisms, and to lks358 for my ONE REVIEW! And to Vampire Idrial for putting it on alert. Hey, at least someone is reading! I hope you enjoy where this eventually goes. I will not be updating again for at least a week as my children have about a hundred things going on for the end of school, and no, that's not an exaggeration!

Invitation

Christine's words echoed in the quiet room. Her declaration was astounding and unfathomable. Her mind had become so completely corrupted by my incessant commands that she no longer knew what she was saying. She loved me? Never. No woman in their right mind could, or ever would, love a man such as me.

"Christine, I'm going to try to forget what you just said," my voice rasped. "You're not thinking clearly."

"I beg to differ. For the first time since I met you, Erik, I'm thinking very clearly. I've done a great deal of thinking, actually, as I've tried to understand everything that has passed between us - as I've tried to better understand the reasons behind your actions."

I glowered at her. "You're trying to justify my reasons for behaving like a monster?"

"You're not a monster, Erik, and I'd like to destroy the person who first told you that you were!" Her voice was piercing, demanding. "That is what I have come to understand. I have deeply considered what kind of life you must have known. Being who you are with your talent and your intelligence, your creativity, your...genius..."

I shook my head at her unwarranted compliments. "I'm just an ugly, hateful man, Christine."

"But you're not!" she insisted. "Hateful, yes, because of the way you have been treated, but you can't deny that you are capable of love as well!"

I stared up at her beautiful face as her eyes pleaded with mine. "I may be capable of love, but my ability to express it is severely lacking."

"Only because you've never been given the opportunity to express it," she said, lacing her fingers with mine in a manner that suggested more to me than her innocent mind intended. "And Erik, I don't think you are ugly."

My frustration, both mental and physical, was reaching a breaking point. I bellowed at her, "How can you, who have seen my face, say that I am not ugly?"

"Because I have seen into your soul!"

I barked a laugh at her and snatched my hand away. "Save your imaginative poems for the Vicomte and your wedding night."

She went blank suddenly and stared down at my face with wide eyes. Quietly, she repeated, "I do not think you are ugly, Erik."

Just as softly, I said, "And I do not think you mean what you say. You're under a spell, Christine. A spell I placed you under out of my selfish, lustful desires. You're only saying this because you think it's what I want to hear - because I told you to feel this way. So, listen to me now. You're free, Christine. I release you. Go. Return to your home, to your fiancé. Be done with this place. Be done with me."

Her lips formed a hard line. "No."

"No? "

"No. If I were truly under your spell, I would leave here, just as you said. But you see, Erik, I am not under any sort of spell. I am here of my own free will. I choose this." She touched my hand again. "I choose you."

I stayed very still as I contemplated her argument. She was very right. If I did have control over her, she would have stood up and walked out of here when I first demanded it. The fact that she was still here presented a conundrum. More confusing was the way she lightly stroked her fingers over my hand, the way she smiled warmly down at me and held on to my eyes. The feel of her hip resting against my leg as she sat next to me on the bed. The way she leaned over me, letting ringlets of her hair fall around her shoulders. I was suddenly over come with the enormity of the situation. Her presence, her words, and my increasing desire to believe that it was all real and not a game of make-believe sent my mind spinning.

"Christine…" I started. "I… don't… understand." I felt foolish admitting it, but were I to put my assumptions into words I just might frighten the poor girl to death.

"I brought you something that might help explain things." She reached down into a bag that until now had gone completely unnoticed. She obviously had brought it in with her, but its contents were a mystery to me. What she handed me, however, was very recognizable. Even in the dark I could tell from the shape and weight of the parchment that it was a wedding invitation.

Her wedding invitation.

To that insolent boy.

I sighed, eternally grateful that I hadn't said a word about how I interpreted her words to mean she wanted more from me than just a final visit. For that's plainly what she wanted. Now that I held the proof of her intentions in my hand, I knew she had come here of her own free will to tell me that she cared for me but was still going to marry her Vicomte.

"Aren't you going to read it?" she asked.

I would die were I to read it in front of her. "I'll look at it later. Thank you."

"But I want you to read it now. Please?" Her voice was almost childlike in its request.

Against my better judgment, I nodded and began opening the card.

Christine jumped up, "Here, let me light a candle so you can see it properly."

Wonderful. She wanted to be certain I saw her name printed next to his. And in the light she would have a better view of my reaction. Thank God for the mask. Perhaps she won't see my complete revulsion. I only hoped I could refrain from gagging for her sake.

With the candle lit, I could better see that Christine was dressed in a pale, cream colored gown. Her eyes reflected the glow of the flame as did the blush on her skin. She truly was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and she was forcing me to read a statement announcing how she intended to join her life with that of a moronic brat. I forced down my disgust and read the words printed on the paper.

Announcing the Marriage of

Mademoiselle Christine Daae

To

Monsieur Erik

On this the 15th day of May,

Eighteen Hundred and Eighty

5:30 pm

At the Palais Garnier

I blinked. And blinked again. My eyes were deceiving me. In my weakened state, the words were so unclear that my mind was interpreting the text incorrectly. I closed my eyes tight and then refocused on the page, rereading over the words that had to be part of a game.

"What do you think?" Christine asked shyly. "I wrote it out myself. Hand written and delivered just as you requested."

I looked up at her, still utterly confused by the invitation. "I think… this says that…" I swallowed and reread it again to be sure I wasn't mistaken. "This says… that you… and I…" My words were completely running dry.

"I'm slightly early," she said, lowering her eyes. "It's just barely five o'clock. I hope you don't mind. I couldn't wait any longer to see you." She hesitantly rested her hand on my leg, and my body responded to the full weight of her touch even through the blankets.

She smiled fully, brightly, before standing up and carrying her bag to the bureau. I watched in rapt attention as she flitted around the room, dabbing perfume behind her ear and pulling a simple wedding veil from her case and fitting it upon her head. She faced me but for a moment, and my breath hitched at the sight of her excitement. Then she opened the door to the room and called for Nadir.

"Would you be so kind as to stand witness for us?"

"Witness? To what?" It was only after he asked the question that he took in Christine's appearance.

She reached for his hand and led him into the room. "You, sir, are to be the most distinguished guest at our wedding."

Nadir looked at me for direction, but I offered none. I only watched Christine's delicate movements as she returned to me and resumed her position sitting on the bed. I should have stopped her, of course. I should have raged at her for teasing me in such a fashion. However, I was powerless to resist. Even as she reached behind my head for the ties of my mask, I didn't prevent her from doing so.

The candlelight flickered in the underground room. Christine sat clothed in a wedding dress and veil, eager and radiant. I lay in my bed clothes, defenseless and silent. Her face was hopeful as she removed my mask and smiled at me. The moment was both beautiful and monstrous, a silent wish being granted just by her presence. My heart hammered in my chest in anticipation as she leaned in closer to me.

And then she kissed me.