Erik carried his wife upstairs, admiring the decor of the place as he did. The lobby was lavishly decorated with dark woods and plush red furniture. There was something he enjoyed about sumptuous plush red of sofas, it was almost enticing. Like they were beckoning for you to lounge on them- not that Erik had much time for lounging.
The entire house was based on a symmetry concept. Whatever was on the right, was on the left and precise to the centimetre. Erik's shoes clanked off the dark polished floors as he made his way up the curved staircase and to the master bedroom on the farthest, left side of the house.
A long dark green carpet stretched the length of the corridor, adding little warmth to the cold of the wood. Each door was clearly labelled for his wife: bathroom, music room, study, library and finally 'Master Bedroom'.
This room was his pride and joy. A four Poster bed stood at the far side of the room and had thick black sheets you could get tangled in for days. It was, of course, made of the finest silks and sturdiest wood.
The room had it's own fireplace, which still had embers crackling away inside it. A fur rug laid a little way away from it. He would sit there sometimes, watching the flames dance and spit- making up stories in his head to escape from the harsh reality of life. As dark as that seemed, it was sort of the norm for Erik.
He laid his new wife down on the bed. The way her hair flopped down and coiled around her head like a halo made him groan with longing in the back of his throat. They had yet to consummate their marriage, but Erik supposed that could wait. His angel was tired and he wasn't going to defile her as he slept.
The idea of him sharing a bed with his with his wife, the idea of having wife made him both thrilled and scared. Though he had been with women before, they were women of the night who insisted he keep the light of. There was no real passion.
But Erik had sat down with his Persian friend Nadir and discussed this; he'd read the Karma sutra and how to possibly satisfy his wife. It seemed the ideas were endless. They agreed that he would only do so when she was ready, if she never wanted to- then so be it. He had a woman warming his bed in the mean time and it made him tingle with excitement and anticipation.
Yet when he woke up the next morning, she wasn't there. Immediately, he sat up- feeling the empty bed beside him. It was stone cold. As he looked around the room he saw that the wardrobe containing her clothes was opened as was his, except some of his clothes were tossed onto the floor.
Had she left him? So soon after being married had she ran off in the middle of the night? No, she wouldn't have the audacity to pull such a stunt! Erik wrapped a cloak around himself and adjusted his masks before running out into the corridor.
A sweet faced, albeit chubby Maid Nathalie was carrying a stack of towels into the bathroom. She jumped when she saw him and Erik waved at her. "Nathalie! Tell the boys to prepare the horses!" He walked swiftly toward her and the poor girl looked terrified.
That's when he heard music, drifting through the hallway. It was coming from the left side of the house. He had strict rules on the servants of the household playing music- especially so early in the morning. Pushing past Nathalie, he followed it.
The sound was coming from HIS music room, it was his and no one else's. Who would have the gall to step into his domain? Sure enough, as he pushed open the door- she was there. That devilish wife of his.
"Elise! What are you doing in MY music room?" He asked, flaring his nostrils and gritting his teeth. Not only had she invaded his working space, she was stood on top of his finest and newly polished piano! The keys were pure ivory imported from Africa- but this woman seemed not to care.
Her bare feet stood on top of and ruined his latest musical compositions. Red hot fury flooded him and he was almost ready to snap. Then he noticed what she was wearing.
Her legs were covered by nothing more than a pair of thermal long johns, her top by a dress shirt with the buttons mismatched. And they were his. His eyes widened as he saw the women splattered with an assortment of paints that were staining his clothes.
Erik was angry, he was furious. But there was something about her messy hair and attire that left Erik incapable of interrupting. The ways her face twisted and how her eyebrows jumped up and down as she examined her painting reeled him in. And the idea of her warm form pressing up against his clothes stirred animalistic feeling inside him that made him want to go over there and pin her to that wall to do unimaginable things to her. And he hadn't even spoke to her properly yet.
When she finally snapped out her little painting trance and saw him in the doorway she jumped. "Monsieur Destler... Good morning." Erik, too came crashing back down to earth when she spoke. Now he realised that this woman was just wearing nary a thing, standing on top of his most prized possession and defacing his walls. That music was awfully loud too.
"You are not supposed to be in here." He stated with a little bitterness in his tone as he crossed the room to turn off the Gramophone. It was then that he got his first glimpse at her painting skills.
It was a girl, with deliciously tanned skin- typical of someone French who actually went outside once in a while. From her chubby facial features and big, round, brown eyes he could see she was quite young. Age was always hard to convey in pictures- put in this he could easily see she was around 9-10.
The girl wore messy, denim overalls that seemed to have been cut short at her muddy knees. Her shoes had a thin coat of mud that splattered up her shins. She wore a scruffy dress shirt, the blue collar faded slightly. It seemed like she had been out playing- judging from the scuffs and mud on her skin, not to mention the big grin on her face that seemed almost idiotic.
Though her hair was thick and black, it was short. Cut just halfway up the neck, and messily judging on the fact some parts were slightly uneven. But it framed her face and added to the innocence and the playful air she had about her.
In her hands was a poppy, clutched tightly in such delicate hands that Erik feared if he stared at them too long they may break. It was just a painting of a messy child, but the detail was so precise Erik thought for a second she had captured an actual moment in time. It was breathtaking.
"Well Monsieur Destler promised me a music and painting room, I just decided to move into this one. Is that a problem?" Erik managed to drag his eyes away from her picture just a second and gaze at the equally messy wife. Wow he had wife.
The woman blinked when he gave no response and waved her hands in front of his eyes to make sure he hadn't fell asleep standing up or something, she'd heard of a few people who did that. But no, he hadn't. "Why yes it is Elise. I had organised you the room just down the hall next to our room. This is my room. You are NOT allowed in here."
He gripped her arm almost possessively and she looked at it with a frown. "Monsieur, let go." Though her tone sounded a little shaken, he continued to drag her from his workspace and she struggled against his vice-like grip with a vengeance.
"Monsieur! Please! You're hurting me!" Tears pricked her eyes as she strained against the pain he caused by yanking her left arm. Erik turned and saw her face contorted in pain so stopped. The woman immediately dropped to the floor clutching her shoulder.
Erik looked down at her with a confused expression. He hadn't even been pulling very hard, it was barely a tug and yet this woman sat on the floor before him as if he had broken it. "Elise?"
His eyes burned down at her as he stared and although the pain had subdued long ago, Elise remained there. When he stared it was as if he was burning into her soul. She finally found the courage to look up him.
There was a dark air around him, an air of mystery and danger. It made her heart leap and skin tingle- like nothing she had ever felt before. He was like the villain she read about in the inappropriate story books her mother once banned from reading. The tall, dark stranger whose very appearance promised turmoil, destruction and upset. But that same stranger drew her in, a weird attraction pulled her to the bad characters in those stories.
In a way she believed the attraction was based on an understanding that they had certain flaws. And that dark air was intoxicating. When the man showed her a little kindness by holding out his hand she looked at it with heavy lids as she took it.
His hand was strong and she liked that. He pulled her up in one, swift movement- but it seemed he didn't know his own strength because she lost her footing and her head hit his chest.
Erik looked down at the woman whose head he had resting against his chest and gave a slight smirk. When she finally regained her balance and pulled away with a gasp he let a chortle pass his half deformed lips. Elise, all blushed up fixed the buttons on the dress shirt with a huff.
"You may keep this room Elise. Know that this is the last time I am to be lenient towards you." The blonde simply nodded and bit her lip as if she was a child being scolded. That small gesture made Erik's heart jump a little- but he managed to keep an author active and straight face.
"I must also ask you wear more clothes in the house, it's not appropriate to be-" The masked fiend began, only to be interrupted by a scoff, "Excuse me?" he said between grit teeth.
"You promised in the letter freedom to wear whatever I like!" She placed her hands on her hips and stood on her tip toes in an attempt to make herself look taller and more of a challenge. Erik found it obnoxious.
"And dressed like that you look like a common whore crawling out of a mans house in the morning!" His voice was gruff, a mixture of tired and angry. Why was she arguing with him?
"Oh and you would know what that looked like, wouldn't you?" The woman looked proud at her witty reply from the big grin she had on her face. Erik's mouth twitched. He didn't know whether he should laugh, growl or kiss her.
As she puffed her chest out Erik resisted the urge to slam his lips against hers and instead growled. "You are intolerable and so very annoying." His teeth were grinding together so hard Elise could see his cheek muscles expanding.
"Takes one to know one!" She said in reply. Erik furrowed his brows and opened his mouth in a confused 'O' shape like a fish.
"That- that doesn't even make sense!" Now yelling, Erik shook his head and looked up at the ceiling wondering how God could possibly have switched his beautiful Bride for such a strange woman overnight.
"Stop yelling at me!" She all but screamed back at him, paintbrush still in hand- she splattered paint over his once, crisp, white mask. Erik put his fingers to his mask and felt it was wet and sticky. When he pulled his hand into view he saw blue paint on his fingers.
"For the love of God!" He growled and looked at her as she resisted the giggles that shook her chest. "You think this is funny?!" His eyes were flashing red, as was his face,but she nodded and giggled.
Like a bratty child he took the paint brush from her and snapped it. "There, is that funny?" He tossed it on the floor and looked up at her for a reaction.
"Wow. I see." The woman looked down at it for a second, before back up at him. "I get the feeling that you aren't good with people Monsieur Destler." Erik breathed heavily, nostrils flaring at her child like tone.
"Don't speak to me like that. I am your husband." He grabbed her arms and pulled her in close. Elise blushed at the closeness of their faces, his hot breath hit off her forehead. "You will not insult me with your tone, nor your words."
He bent down to whisper in her ear, hot breath brushed her neck and Elise gasped. "You are mine whether you want to be or no and if you do something like that again, you will regret it." The grip on her arms loosened and she watched as he stormed off down the corridor.
When he had disappeared from earshot she released a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding in and slid down the door. Butterflies filled her stomach and she bit her lip. In that moment she didn't know if she should curl up and cry or squeal. The squeal was an action she didn't quite understand- but she went with that option.
When Erik finally made it to his study, he took big deep breaths. That woman could both irritate and arouse him. He closed his eyes and tried to cool down from their little encounter.
His Persian friend Nadir looked over to him through his narrow glasses and smiled. "Trouble in Paradise?" Nudging a glass of scotch over to his friend he laughed.
Erik downed it one and grunted a reply. "Yes."
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