The morning came and went, and neither stirred. It had taken Erik quite some time to fall asleep. He could not tear his mind away from her. Each thought burned deeper and fiercer than the last with a fire that consumed his very soul. He loved her; there was no denying that. Nor could he deny any longer that she did truly love him. This was dangerous, treacherous ground they were treading. He could feel the thin, splintering ice beneath him begin to break, and God did he fear the fall. How much pain could his aging heart take before it simply stopped? Would this little, angelic wolf be the end of him, or the beginning? Could he dare to dream of redemption in her delicate arms? He could. He could dream it, oh he could see it, feel it, and taste it – there, in her kiss! Her lips brushed feather-light against his, her eyes closed. Slight, tentative hands moved up his arm and touched his face; a warm, soft body pressed closer to his. He woke, slowly, uncomprehendingly, to her caress. She finally opened her eyes just as he did to gaze at him, infatuated in the deepest way.
"Meg," he murmured, testing the tenor of his voice. It rumbled low in his chest, hoarse from sleep, and she giggled ever so softly.
"Erik," she sighed, kissing him again. He was wary, and she could sense it. He was tense and hesitant. "It's all right…I'm still here. I'm not leaving."
"How? How do you not fear me?" He spoke so quietly she strained to hear him, but as she did, her breath caught in her throat.
"You are too incredible…too wonderful to fear." She answered simply, honestly, and it did not surprise him. She did not let him respond. Instead, she pressed one more kiss to his misshapen lips and slithered out of bed, gathering her clothes for the day. He watched her with a frightening intensity, though it was nothing to match what had occupied his eyes the previous night. She dressed slowly, enjoying the sensation of being watched. She felt his eyes on her, on every exposed part of her, and she basked in it. It was hard for her to believe that only two days ago, she had been nothing but a dancer. Now…now, she was his. What a positively enthralling feeling, to belong to someone so magnificent! To be owned and controlled, in such a delicious way, with no force necessary, though much desired. She was terrified of, yet so excited by this part of herself, so submissive and willing to please. She wondered how far she would let him go. But the answer was clear: as far as he pleased, and then some. She glanced over her shoulder to see him leaning up on his elbows, eyes alight with desire. A shiver danced up and down her spine in response.
"I want to take you somewhere today," she said, buttoning her dress and grabbing her riding cloak. "Is that all right?"
He nodded, not even asking where and swiftly dressed himself, his mask securely set on his face.
"Well, then let's go." He held his arm out for her, tucking her little hand safely in the crook of his elbow. She smiled broadly, reaching up to lightly rest her fingertips against his cheek for a moment, then led them out the door, hailing a carriage.
They arrived at a small cottage half an hour outside the city. It looked cozy and warm, a beautiful garden surrounding it. He helped her from the carriage after she instructed him to return in three hours, dropping a few extra coins in his hand. She beamed at the little abode and immediately he registered that this was her home.
"It's lovely," he whispered in her ear, leaning down to press his lips to her cheek. Her smile broadened, if that was possible as she led him inside.
"Maman is still in the city. She has an apartment near the Opera House, which is where she stayed regardless. She won't be home for at least three more days," she rambled as she wandered through the kitchen, leading him, her hand clutching tightly to his. "She's still setting affairs in order, last I heard – Maman!" Her scream echoed through the house as she entered the sitting room to find her mother sitting in an armchair reading a book. She looked up, mildly surprised.
"Meg! I thought you were still in Paris, ma cherie!"
Meg gaped, hardly unable to believe her mother was home, let alone her easy reaction.
"I- uh…I…" She was at a loss for words. Erik stepped forward gallantly, smiling pleasantly.
"Corrine, how wonderful to see you again. It is a great relief to find you well after the…accident." He placed his arm deliberately around Meg's waist, holding her tight against him, almost as if to keep her standing. Corrine smiled warmly, moving to stand near them.
"Monsieur…Erik. At last. I was beginning to wonder when you would finally see." She cast a knowing glance to her daughter. "Welcome to the family…or is it still too soon for that greeting?"
"No, Corrine," he said, glancing sideways at Meg. "I believe it is just right." Meg blushed furiously, and Erik stepped back to watch her converse with her mother. His arms were folded across his chest, though for once, it was not in an intimidating gesture. It was relaxed, joyful and content. He knew that it was true; there would be no parting him from Meg now. She was more than he could ever have wanted, more than he deserved, and yet he was stubbornly unwilling to lose her now. He had no fear though, knowing that she loved him as deeply as he did her. She turned to him after a few minutes, beckoning him forward.
"Come…I've yet to show you what we came for."
He followed her up the stairs, past the second floor, to the attic. It was high-ceilinged and lofty, sunlight streaming through the windows. Meg moved directly to a dusty form covered by a sheet in the corner. She swiftly pulled the sheet away, sending puffs of dust into the air, revealing a beautiful baby grand piano. Erik smiled widely, striding over to her and pulling her into an embrace, kissing her deeply. They parted after a moment, and she rested her head on his chest.
"How did this happen? Us, so quickly, I mean?"
"I'm not quite sure," he said, smiling. "Though I am dearly glad it did."
They disentangled themselves from each other and he moved to sit at the piano, his long, elegant fingers resting on the keys.
"Play," she said, standing behind him, her hands resting on his back. "Please?"
He began to play. It was a soft, haunting melody that twisted and snaked through the air, caressing her with its gentle tendrils of ecstatic sound. It was subdued, but so full of emotion. Her eyes closed of their own accord as she was lost in the music, letting it pull her under and drown her in sweet sensation. His eyes closed as well, his fingers quickening across the keys, the song changing and morphing. It became harder, more urgent and forceful. A soft gasp escaped her lips, her nails digging into his back. He hardly noticed. He continued playing, the song escalating swiftly. She moved and swayed with the rise and fall of the notes. There were no thoughts in her mind but of him; of his touch, the feel of his skin beneath her hands. His music was no longer simply music. It was their love, changing fast, becoming something out of their control. It was what they both wanted – that crescendo building, reaching, pure ecstasy winding up and slowly coming down, their breath ragged in unison. Clinging, grasping notes, wanting more, more, more, never satiated, never satisfied. Getting more, sweet, delicious more, building again, slower this time, pounding towards the ending that is not truly an ending, but a beginning. The music was a marriage of sound and sense; their love, a marriage of sound mind and senselessness. Suddenly, it came to a crashing end as she whimpered quietly, stifled against the bunching muscles of his back, her arms wrapped tightly around him.
"Erik…" She breathed, panting heavily. He turned in her embrace, kissing her hard. She matched his intensity, escalating it as the music had. "You are too amazing." Her words were breathy against his lips.
"Meg," he said, pulling away from her and taking her face in his hands, gazing down at her intently. "Meg…I…I love you."
"Oh Erik!" She cried, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in the crook of his neck. "I love you too!"
They remained that way for a very long time, until finally Corrine knocked, peeking in.
"How are you two? Hungry? I've made dinner."
They shared gentle smiles as Erik stood and took her hand. "Starving, Corrine. Come Meg…and then we'll go home."
