Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait in between updates, but every once in awhile the site will give me an error message when I try to upload a document. Go figure. Anyway, enjoy this chapter, read, review, you know the drill...
The emir knew from his friend's uneasy posture that something was not sitting well with him. "What troubles you so, Erik? Not ready to be parted from your wife just yet?"
Erik raised his head and looked at his king. The emir smiled and glanced over to the bed, where the sheets and blankets were still rumpled from two bodies sharing the night. He gave Erik a 'just-between-us-boys' wink, and smiled. "Have no fear, my friend. If you like, I can arrange her grooming in any way that you'd like. You could even watch the process, but I find that it ruins the mystery- after all, no one wants to know how something as beautiful as a sunset is made, most everyone would rather just admire it,"
Erik shifted, "No, sire, it is not that…I just, mmm, fear for her…"
The emir raised his brows in surprise and laughed, "You fear for the girl? Erik you are beyond foolish! Only you would see danger in the harem groom, now stop this nonsense- your wife will be well taken care of, not only will her body be properly prepared, but I will see to it that she is given some new clothes."
Behind the mask, Erik raised a brow. "New clothes?"
The emir looked at Erik as if he were a simpleton, "Yes, new clothes! Look at the wrinkles in her silks- am I right to assume that is the outfit that she wore yesterday?"
"Yes…"
"Very well, it is decided. The girl will be groomed and attired in a manner befitting the wife of a favorite in the royal court, and you will stop your fretting! Honestly, Erik, having a wife has made you paranoid- there is no danger here," the emir crowed.
'No danger that your blind idiot eyes can see, my liege!'
"Now, tell her in that ridiculous language of yours that she is to be taken to the harem," the emir said as he pulled a bell-rope to summon a eunuch to chaperone the girl. "And then I want to know what kind of display I can look forward to on Colaca,"
Erik knew that he'd lost the argument once the king turned his back and began peeking into the cages littered about Erik's room. He turned to Christine, who was still against the wall, wary of the emir. "Christine, listen to me. The king has demanded that you be taken into the harem-"
Green eyes flashed, and a sneer of distaste and anger twisted over her features. "I am never going to become one of his damned whores, I'd rather cut my wrists!"
Erik held up his hands. "No, he has promised me that nothing of the sort will take place. This will be for your benefit. He only wishes to send you to the palace groom, who lives within the harem."
Christine seemed to relax, but not completely. "The palace groom?"
"Yes, there you will be bathed and pampered. He also deems that you will be given more clothes," Erik said once there was a knock on his bedchamber door. The emir was a king, but even he was not beyond the simple task of answering, and so he did.
"Ah, Erik! Alari will take Christine to the groom, and you must show me your displays," the emir insisted. Alari was one of the few harem guards that Erik felt he could trust. His sister had been placed into the harem when she was a mere fourteen years old, and the Queen had wasted no time in literally tearing her apart, claiming that the harem for the grand king of Tejar had "no room for child whores".
Alari hated the Queen, perhaps as much as Erik did. "Please, allow no harm to come to her," Erik pleaded to the eunuch.
Christine's worry-filled eyes stayed on Erik as the four of them stepped out into the corridor, but what more could Erik do? He stepped to her, and took her hand in his, "Christine, your protection lays in the ring. They'll know what lays in store for them if anything should happen to you. I promise, it will be safe."
"Erik, enough! Don't keep me waiting," the emir demanded.
Erik turned to walk with the emir down the corridor, while Christine and Alari turned to walk the opposite way. He was sure that his thundering heart echoed after her.
All throughout the day, Erik's concentration was split between his work and Christine. The music he'd composed, the magic displays that he'd prepared…it was all meaningless while he was so worried. It had been the first time that he'd been separated from Christine, and his hands shook at all of the possible dangers that she could be in at that very moment.
The Queen had spies, and so many of the harem guards hated Erik- Christine would be the perfect way to send a threatening message. Damn you, Ismat! The displays for Colaca had been finished for over a week already, so why had he been called down to work on them now?
The emir was looking over Erik's shoulder as he inspected the spring mechanism to one of his softer magic tricks, one of several that had been designed with the royal palace children in mind. He ignored the king's hovering presence, his thoughts coming to reside solely on Christine- was she all right? Was she missing him at all?
Erik prayed silently for hours as he "worked" on all of the displays that no harm had fallen upon her- he knew what could happen if the Queen found out that Christine was alone, without Erik's protection. He might never see her again, or even worse, and much more likely, her mangled body would be tossed at his feet…
'No- the emir promised no harm to befall her! As powerful as the Queen is, she is still only a mere woman, and would not go against the wishes of the king…'
The hours dragged on and on, and though Erik had finished with his work, the emir had insisted that Erik stay with him and play a few games in the royal courtyard; Erik could not refuse the king. For all of the emir's friendliness, he had inherited his mother's capacity for insults. If Erik were to refuse, Ismat would see it as a sign of disrespect, and the king could rain down a world of trouble.
So, Erik played. A board game reminiscent of chess, a game of darts, together they ate and drank and talked, until finally it was time to part company. Erik made no stops as he climbed the Tower towards his bedchamber. It would never be permitted for him to enter the harem to retrieve his wife- such a trespass would be punishable by death. He could only go to his room and wait for Christine to be returned to him.
Erik took a deep breath and stepped into his room. It was dark outside his windows; lone tea candles had been lit in the wall. He didn't see the girl- not on the divan, not in bed or at the desk. Erik sighed, and realized that he missed her. Christine was a wonderful companion, though it had been barely more than a day since he'd first seen her.
'Christine will be here soon.' Erik shrugged out of his suit jacket and unbuttoned the shirt beneath. He was tired, and wished to be out of his suit and in the comfort of his bed.
Where was Christine?
'My wife is beautiful already- lovely enough to draw admiration from the king- the groom should not have kept her this late!'
Erik sat down on the edge of his bed and coughed. He looked around his room and realized something very important was missing- his cages of healing animals, they were gone! He barely had time to wonder what had happened to them all when the closet door opened.
Christine emerged slowly from the shadows and didn't stop until she was mere feet away from Erik. He couldn't speak. The palace groom had created a masterpiece- Christine was reborn in his eyes. The hair had been removed from her body; the attendant servants had massaged her skin with silver oils. She gleamed before him in the candlelight, an Aphrodite in lace.
Pearl beads were woven into her raven hair; Christine's eyes were eerily bright, their color set off from the black kohl that lined the emeralds. Lashes and brows had been brushed with ebony ink; a coat of pink stain touched her full lips.
Erik had never wished so much for a kiss as he did in that moment.
The emir's promise of new clothes had proven true, as Christine was clad in a chemise of azure lace that bared her shoulders and dipped low to show the cleavage of her breasts. She smiled uncertainly. "Do you like it?"
Her question snapped Erik from his trance and he hurriedly stood from the bed and stepped close to her. "Oh yes, very much," he assured. His hands ached to take the girl, but he couldn't trust himself to touch her, and so he ended up wringing his hands together like a guilty child.
Christine reached out to him, and Erik took her hands in his. Even her nails had been filed and polished. His gold ring remained on her finger, and Erik felt his heart swell. How beautiful she was! "You look amazing, Christine."
If they had been lovers, he would have bent to kiss her then, but Erik reminded himself to be content with just holding her little hands in his.
Her smile lost its uncertainty, and became genuine. Christine moved forward and hugged him. Erik brought his arms around her, offering what reassurance he could, while also relishing the heat emanating from her body. The enticing scent of her perfumed hair and skin reached him, curling his mind into a myriad of sensual suggestion.
It might have been his imagination, but the embrace seemed to last longer than it should have, and Christine's leg nudged him in a most interesting place just then…
She pulled from him first, and moved to the desk. Erik had not noticed it before, but a bottle of wine and two glasses rested on its surface. One wineglass was nearly empty, the other full and waiting for him. Christine retrieved both and came back to him. "Here you go, have a drink. This wine is great," she said as she finished the last drop from her glass.
Erik took the wineglass from her but did not sip. He held it up and swirled the liquid within for a moment, suspicious from the outset. "Christine…where did this come from?"
The girl didn't answer; she was staring at her gleaming silver hand. Erik set his wineglass aside and studied her. "Christine?"
He moved to her and took the wineglass from her hand, setting it on the desk. "Christine did you hear me?"
She looked up at him and Erik started- her eyes were dilated, the pupils so large and deep they nearly overtook her green irises. Her breathing was suddenly deep and sharp, panting, and her skin had become slick with hot sweat. Erik put a hand on her shoulder and felt her begin to tremble.
'Poison! No, Christine, damn you, you will not die this way! I'll bring you home, I'll make you happy! Please hold on, let me set you down and I'll heal you…'
Erik brought his arm around her and a strange moan escaped her lips. She could not speak, but the sounds continued. Erik scooped his other arm under her legs and carried her to his bed.
He laid Christine down, but before he could move back to have a better look at her trembling, fevered body, she had grabbed onto Erik's shirt and with an amazing strength, she'd pulled him down atop her! "Christine, what-?"
The girl writhed beneath him in dazed sexual pleasure, moaning and clawing at his back. Erik's body responded instantly once she'd raised her legs and wrapped them around his hips, grinding herself against him. Her hands pulled at his shirt, her movements frantic and urgent. Erik felt her lips and tongue at his exposed throat, moving lower as she pulled his shirt to the side to expose a shoulder.
This wasn't what he wanted; this wasn't what he'd spent so long dreaming over! Christine had replaced any other woman he could have wanted in both his heart and mind, but this wasn't how he wanted her- she was drugged with powerful aphrodisiacs to remove all reason from her mind.
Christine didn't want him, she just needed a way to climax, the only thing that would clear her mind, and she had grabbed the nearest body she could find- his.
Erik knew this, it was the same trick the Queen had used on him to make him mate the dead courtesan- if Christine did not find release, the potion would remain in her system for several hours, driving her mad with heated desire.
'God, no, I can't do this, ah, no, I can't…'Christine's hands had torn open the front of his shirt and she had wasted no time in running her fingertips over the skin she'd exposed. Erik winced in the strange new pleasure as she scraped her nails lightly down his chest. He felt gooseflesh rise on every inch of his body. Christine made no mention of his scars, but her eyes were so glazed that she didn't even notice. Her mouth was urgent, peppering his chest with kisses, his neck, even his mask was blessed with her lips!
'Make her stop, you can't do this, she'd never forgive it…'His hands were trembling, fighting the urge to both bask in the pleasure she ached to give and the instinct that tempted him to remove the lace from her body, bare her to him and take her. Her legs remained locked over his waist, fusing their hips together. Erik felt his body drowning, his own hips moving to match her pace…
'No! Erik, stop this, you can't…!'
The skirt of her chemise had risen in her fevered movements; Erik could feel her moist, naked sex against his own straining arousal through the material of his clothing. He began to move with her. Never before had he ever…
'No!'
Christine's desperate hands reached for his waistband and tugged at it madly. Still, the only sounds that escaped her parted lips were deep, husky moans, moans that he'd never heard before, so primal they spoke to his deepest self.
The self that had so long been denied by others and suppressed by his own neglect...
His sexual self…Erik's body was heated, his heart pounding a drumbeat in his chest that sent the blood scorching through his veins. He wanted this, he wanted her. Christine touched him, destroying his protesting mind.
'I want this, I've wanted you since the moment I saw you…you're my slave, my wife, but this isn't what you want…oh God, your hands- don't touch me, touch me more! I can't stop…'
Erik raised his hand to Christine's shoulder; he meant to push her back down onto the bed, away from him, to put a stop to the madness that threatened to overtake them both.
'Oh God, don't…! '
But Christine did.
She took Erik's hand from her shoulder and moved it down, forcing his hand over her breast. Reflexively, he cupped it, and Christine cooed with pleasure. Erik had kept his eyes closed to avoid seeing her in such a state, but at her moan, he had to look down and see her.
'You horrible little temptress, I hate you!'Her eyes locked to his, her lips begging for his kiss of approval. Her expression was that of blind lust, not the love he longed to see in her eyes. Christine was encouraging him, begging without words to be taken, to be fucked- hard and fast, to be mated like an animal and, God help him, Erik wanted nothing more than to mount her- his woman, his wife!
His body demanded that he claim her in the most basic sense- before there were rings and priests of marriage, there was sex. His body demanded what Christine was offering so freely, but his conscience fought to refuse her.
Christine bared her chest to him; the hand that held her breast trembled as he felt her pebbled nipple beneath his palm. Christine cooed and smiled in her delirium, but she was not satisfied- the drug had her enflamed in a way that she had never felt before. It was uncontrollable, inhuman lust that fueled her, closing her mind to anything other than pure sensation.
She grasped his wrist as she had before, moving his hand lower, lower, over her quivering stomach and down to the apex of her thighs, forcing Erik to touch her in a way that he'd never dared. Her panting grew louder, drowning the protests in the back of his mind. She moved against his captured hand, impaling herself on his fingers.
Erik was sick with the struggle- Christine was the first woman who'd ever treated him as a man, touched him as a man, and it was all against her true will.
Her tight body quivered over his hand and the pain of arousal between Erik's legs threatened to drive him mad. His mind gave a few weak protests before finally giving in- 'I can't do this, Christine, I can't…'
His conscience abandoned him, and desire reigned over his actions. Christine's body thrilled as Erik moved his hand between her legs, stroking the wet velvet flesh of her sex. Christine moaned and panted for him; stoking his desire to a roaring inferno- she wanted him, she took pleasure at his touch!
"Oh, Raoul, ah, mmm…" she panted against his ear.
'Oh, Christine.'
Erik closed his eyes as he felt his arousal deflate painfully. Christine continued to writhe against him, and he did want her, but the ice of her words doused all passion. He stilled his body and pulled from her, despite Christine's clinging hands. "No, no…" she muttered once he stood from the bed.
Erik watched Christine writhe in wanton abandon on his bed, panting and moaning. As soon as he was gone from her grasp, she began to stroke herself, desperate to be rid of the drug's effect. He'd never seen anything so sexually arousing in all his life. Erik wanted to go back to her, remove the lace from her body and drive himself between her legs.
Here it was, the girl who epitomized all he'd ever wanted: she was his wife, in his bed and she had proven herself willing to touch him. Christine was young and beautiful, more than he had ever dared to hope for…
But, it would be horrendous to take her this way, drugged and robbed of her mind. Christine craved touch, and was so deep into the red haze that she didn't realize it was the corpse who had been in bed with her moments ago. To her, Erik was only an available body, meant to relieve her tension.
Erik didn't want to be…used in that way, and he couldn't use her.
Christine had said that name, Raoul. Erik thought of the day before, when he'd forced her confessions. He wasn't angry. Christine was drugged, and likely had only said the other man's name in the delirium of her desire. She didn't know where she was or what was happening.
Erik sighed at the unfairness of it all, the latest in a long line of cruel jokes played on him and felt hot tears escape his eyes beneath the mask.
'You said you believed that I could be good. I won't fail you, my Christine.'
Erik cleared his throat and took a deep breath. Before he could have any second thoughts, he reached for the girl and scooped her off the bed. She brought her arms around his neck and peppered urgent kisses over his exposed neck and the lips of his mask, but Erik forced himself to ignore her.
He couldn't allow his body to take over again- his mind had reigned supreme for years, and he could overcome this powerful temptation; for her sake, he had to. Christine moaned and panted, but Erik paid her no mind. He dropped her on the floor of the closet and locked her inside.
Erik stood with his back against the door for several minutes, listening to her as she continued to moan and writhe on the other side. He removed the mask and ran a hand over his sweating face. 'God, what a night! '
He waited for the hard pulse in his groin and chest to die down before he moved away from the door and took the bottle of wine off his desk.
A short message was tagged to the label, written in Arabic. Of course Christine wouldn't have understood what she was looking at- to her it was nothing more than squiggly lines. Anger took over the longing in his heart.
'No woman in her right mind mates a corpse, I thought I might help your slave get through her wife's duties- feel free to ask for more tomorrow night, and every night thereafter!'
Erik took the bottle and shattered it against the far wall. The Queen, damn her to hell!
Christine woke up as she felt something move across her face. Startled, her eyes snapped open and she quickly raised her fingers to her forehead- she had feared to find an insect, but instead she'd found that it was a bead of sweat that had begun to move down her face. The quick movements brought on a strange wave of nausea, and she groaned. Her stomach clenched in pain, her entire body felt as if it were on fire. 'What's happened to me? Where am I?'
Her mind was not so befuddled that she couldn't assess her surroundings. The floor beneath her was cold, smooth stone. The room where she was being held was tiny, and dark. She forced her eyes to focus, and she looked down towards her feet. A thin strip of light went along the floor, coming in from the outer room. She was in a closet, but why?
Christine sat up and felt a powerful wave of dizziness pass over her. 'All right, don't move so fast, breathe, just try to remember…'
She thought back, and remembered being taken to the harem groom. The harem had been close to what she'd expected from books that she'd read in the past. It was a grand room of tan stone walls and golden marble pillars. The ceiling was hung with bright satin drapes, and in the center of the room, there was a large fountain. The chilly floor beneath her bare feet had been peppered with many large loose pillows, several chair sets and divans rested throughout the harem. Colorful vases lined the walls, overflowing with pleasant vine flowers, and above them were tapestries of such intricate detail, Christine had felt that she could step right into them and escape this strange place.
The room itself had been grand enough, but it was the occupants that had drawn her attention. She hadn't meant to stare, but even she was not beyond the charms of Tejar's courtesans. There had to have been over one hundred women in the room; she'd seen several of them seated on the floor pillows, some seated on the lip of the fountain, and some were just strolling aimlessly back and forth.
Once Alari had led Christine into the harem, all conversation had slowed to a halt as the courtesans observed this pale newcomer with much interest. Christine was dressed in similar style to the women there, and but for her skin tone she was no different, though she sensed the other women of the harem knew that she wasn't meant to be there. It was unnerving to be stared at, but she was likewise drawn to stare at them in return.
The women were all gorgeous to varying degrees, their similarities, however, outnumbered their differences. All the women in the harem possessed long black hair and dark skin tones to match. Jewels curled over their necks, ankles and wrists, but Christine was surprised to see that none of them wore rings. Their lush bodies were wrapped in silk and lace of all colors. Such beauty in such a dangerous place!
Alari, the guard who had led her there, came to the edge of the room and pulled back a large heavy curtain. The language barrier was a giant obstacle, but his meaning was clear enough, and so she stepped into the smaller room on the other side.
A large, older woman sat on a soft chair across the room and she exchanged words with Alari before she clapped her hands, summoning a few servants. Alari left the room and the younger servants motioned for Christine to come toward the older woman. 'The palace groom,' she thought, as she stood before her.
The groom possessed a kind, grandmotherly face that was etched with lines of hard-earned wisdom. She motioned for Christine to come closer, and when she stepped in close the woman reached out and cupped her face, turning her from side to side to get a better look at her rare features. Christine didn't know what the older woman was looking for, but supposed she must have been satisfied.
From there began the most luxuriating experience of Christine's life.
She'd read about the great spas of Europe and how they offered every beauty service available known to man- surely this was as close to spa treatment as she would ever get!
Young attendant servant girls were brought into the room. Christine had tried to fight them at first, her fear and hatred unwilling to allow any strangers to even come near her. The younger girls outnumbered her, they were stronger and easily had her overpowered. They stripped her naked- Christine tried to ignore their giggling and reign in her instinct to lash out. Her anger urged her to attack the nearest servant, but she knew that she had no choice but to act passively- Erik's ring couldn't protect her from everything, and she shuddered to think of the consequences if she became violent with anyone there in the palace.
The servants stripped her naked and then brought her to a large porcelain tub where she was bathed in perfumed oils. They brought her from the bathing pool and laid her down onto a table where she was massaged.
To Christine's mind- fevered from humiliation and a strange comfort that almost bordered on arousal, it felt that hundreds of hands were on her body, caressing and teasing touches. The hands rubbed silver oils into her skin, giving it an ethereal shimmer.
Once the massage was over, the young servants smiled at her as they moved to lace her hair and paint her face.
It was strange to have so many little hands touching her, adjusting the lace chemise they'd presented to her and placing the finishing touches over her makeup. Christine was tired of being poked and prodded at, however, and was thankful when Alari returned for her, hours later. She was both exhausted and elated- she wanted to see Erik, she didn't feel safe being anywhere without him.
Alari brought her through the main room of the harem again, and Christine felt a strange delight at the admiring expressions written over all the courtesans' faces.
The beautifying treatments had raised her spirit- Christine felt refreshed and new, reborn and brave enough to face the challenges ahead.
Alari led her through several corridors of the palace, and as she walked beside him, Christine let her eyes wander to the murals painted on the walls. War, celebration and animals danced over the stone, telling a long, bizarre story. She glanced down another hallway and in the dim lighting she was able to make out a strange dark shape. She paused and walked towards it.
Christine came closer and with every step the shape became more defined. It was a man, clad in all black- Erik! There he was, a painting ten feet tall above her, but Christine gasped once she saw the painting's face. It was Erik, there was no mistaking the black suit painted onto his skeletal frame, but what shocked her was the artist's rendering of his face.
It wasn't a face, but a warped skull. The face was a garish shade of sallow gray, with malformed lips curling maliciously over sharp white teeth. His angry yellow eyes glared down at her. 'The Queen's Angel of Death!'
His pale hands wielded the golden lasso, ensuring no mistake over his identity. Christine gasped loudly once she felt Alari's tight hold on her arm, he didn't appear pleased that she'd wandered away from him and seen the painting.
Alari said nothing as he brought her back to Erik's room, and once she was alone, Christine pondered over her "husband". Surely, that was just an imaginative display on the palace wall- Erik had told her that the Queen used him as a warning against her enemies, and surely, if he were painted as a monster, wouldn't he gain more fear that way? She thought then, of the mask, and the possible reasons why he hadn't removed it in her presence.
Could it be that Erik's face truly looked like it had in the painting? Christine didn't think so, how could anyone survive with such a face? The absence of a nose would surely have hindered their breathing, at the very least. It was possible that Erik's features had become distorted somehow- scars, burns, sickness…but surely the artist was exaggerating!
Poor Erik- he'd already made it clear how he felt about her, and he'd made no mention of his mask. He must be so lonely, so shamed by his face- he'd been so happy when she agreed to wear his ring! Christine thought over the things that he'd told her, and realized then that she was most likely one of the few people that had shown him any kindness…
Christine decided that it didn't matter- Erik was Erik, and as he had proven himself to be the only one she could trust, Christine put the matter from her mind altogether. If Erik's face was distorted for one reason or another, it was the least of her concerns; Christine's mind was still focused on using him to escape.
She coughed, but couldn't remember much that had happened after Erik came into his room the night before. Had he been the one to put her into the closet? Why would he do that?
Christine started up, but her limbs were heavy, and so she remained on the floor. The light coming in from the main bedroom was growing brighter as time went by, and as the minutes passed, Christine felt her grogginess dissipate. She looked about the closet in her boredom; irritated to see so many black suits- wasn't Erik permitted any color? Something tickled her arm, and Christine glanced over to find a bright silk scarf. She pulled it up to her face and breathed in Erik's scent.
Clean and fresh, the scarf smelt of spring leaves.
A chest had been resting beneath the scarf, and though she knew it was rude to pry, Christine couldn't help her curiosity. She unlatched the chest and gasped at what she found inside.