It had been several more days, and Erik had taken kindly to Christine's coaxing that he sleep in her bed, and indulge in kissing her. He had come to admit to himself that the sinking feeling in his stomach, the fluttering of his heart, the tension in his temples- he felt that he was learning to love.

A curious thing, love is, he thought to himself as Christine slept beside him. This girl is kind, beautiful and genuine- yet she is not real. But what is real? If she is here in my arms, if she kisses me, then that would make her more real than any woman I've ever dreamed of…

Erik looked at the rings on their fingers, and thought of how he might have a wedding- Christine in a sheath of pure white silk and lace, a pure siren angel if he'd ever envisioned one. The wedding would be a small affair, he had no taste for anything so overdone as a Catholic wedding.

Mayfair had always been a devout man of the church, as had Joan, though she was adept at finding loopholes in the faith. Erik frowned. He hadn't thought that Joan would have been such a problem; after she had put a stop to their affair, she had hardly cast him a second look since. As they had more or less ignored each other for so long a time, Erik had seen no reason for her to take offense to Christine being in the house.

He found himself to be a very foolish man.

Upon meeting, they had come within a hair's breath of attacking each other. Joan hardly registered Erik's notice any longer, but he cared too much for Mayfair to let his only child be ripped apart by Victor's creation. Erik had stolen quick glances at the book Victor had left behind, and found that, among Christine's other interesting abilities, she could block the receptor sites in her brain that allowed her to feel any pain.

That, coupled with her superior strength made for one hell of a woman to reckon with.

Erik wished for no violence in his home, he only wanted for the comfort he felt in Christine to spread throughout his home. He wondered if Christine could feel love, in the way that he understood it. She had confided that she liked him for himself, which was more than Joan had been able to give him. His time with her had come about to satisfy her own curiosity and arouse the jealousy of one of her beaus at the time.

No more, no more…

Erik held Christine close to him, but her skin was very cold. She was colder than any living person should be. The room was not drafty, and though he held her beneath the covers, her skin remained disturbingly cool. Her breathing continued evenly, she was not dead, but she was too cool to feel alive.

It made him nervous; the image of her fading colors remained strong in his mind. Erik didn't kid himself that it was a normal occurrence, and he didn't believe Christine's lies that it was simply 'something that happened' when she was hungry. There was something wrong with Christine.

Erik knew that something had to be done to help her, and soon, but he had no idea what.

"What are you reading there, Christine?" Erik asked as he strode into the study. He'd awoken alone in the morning, and found her curled in a chair by the window with a large picture book in her lap.

She looked up, her seaglass eyes lighting up as she saw him come in. "Oh, Erik, good morning. I'm sorry I didn't wake you, but I thought that you might have wanted to sleep in a little."

Erik shrugged, "No worries, I don't mind. What book is that?"

"It's a picture book of the city of New Orleans, where Victor-"

"Ah, yes, I know all about that," Erik nodded. Christine filled him only with happiness, but the memory of his only meeting with the man that had made her often chilled him with dread, though he couldn't understand why. "It's a pity that so much of his…operation was damaged."

Christine shrugged. "Not all of it. He was able to salvage some of us, the New Race, I mean."

Erik nodded. "Yes, I know what you meant."

She turned her attention back to the book in her lap. "This city was so…original, it's hard to believe that so much was destroyed in the flood,"

Erik had nothing to say- he was not familiar with America, the damage done to a city he'd never seen was of no real concern to him, but perhaps Christine had thought of it as the place of her birth rather than his home.

"Could we ever visit there?"

He moved to sit down, and brought her close so that she could settle into his lap with her book. She had marked a page with a large picture and a smaller caption of the famous Garden District. She turned another page to show a view from over the entire city.

"It's so big," she breathed.

Erik pressed his lips to her temple and tucked the crown of her head beneath his chin. "I don't think it would be a good time to visit now, but if you're bored with London we can go somewhere else,"

Christine turned to him, "I'm not bored, I promise I'm not. I'd just…well, I'd just like to see more of the world, that's all."

He smiled. "I understand. You have a wandering spirit, like me. I haven't traveled much, but then I've never had anyone to enjoy the world with me."

"You still could have gone off for a holiday,"

Erik shrugged. "Perhaps, but I'd rather take a holiday with you,"

She smiled and laughed a bit. "I'm flattered."

"Are there any places that you would like to see in particular? Here in Europe, or anywhere else in America?" Erik asked, quickly warming to the idea of taking a vacation where they could be alone, just the two of them.

Erik had easily learned that any amount of money would have people able to forget his mask, it would be no hassle.

Christine brushed her lips against his, briefly, and Erik felt a touch of the intoxicating warmth- his beautiful, golden woman…

"Anywhere you like, Christine," he breathed against her.

"I like the water, but the weather is…dreary here. I'd like to see America, if it's all right with you. Maybe somewhere with a beach?" Christine asked.

Erik cradled her in his lap, one hand one her waist and the other over her leg. He pulled her closer; unconsciously, his thumb began to trace circles on her knee. Suddenly bold with the vision in mind of Christine in a bathing suit, Erik pressed a kiss to her throat.

Christine turned to bring her hands over his shoulders and allowed Erik to kiss her deeply, she thrilled to his touch.

Through knowledge downloads, implanted memories and other assorted features that made the New Race, they had instincts as well. Instincts to survive at all cost, instincts to aid self-preservation and ward off perceived threats.

It was instinct that had Christine unconsciously pulling back towards Victor.