Author's Note: Unedited chapters are available on A O X3 under the same title.
Evangeline sighed.
"Another boat?" she whined once she was certain shey'd not be overheard by the small boat's captain.
Erik loaded the last of the velises that they'd purchased (along with their entire assortment of clothing and personal necessities) during the long journey to Italy. They'd stopped in London just long enough to gather a few essential supplies for the weeks long trek from England. Clothing (a mixture of boy's and lady's) a silver hair brush, ribbons and hair pins, two sets of shoes, several different hats to hide her face, and a pair of false spectacles that Erik insisted that she wear anytime she dressed as a woman. It was her disguise, he'd explained, to prevent her recognition by anyone she might know in London or on the road. With the simple dove gray working class dress, second hand boots, a pair of spectacles, her hair pulled back into a severe bun and covered with a hat she was nearly unrecognizable even to herself. She doubted that anyone would see her now and ever associate her with her former posh life.
Still, he had insisted that she change often on the journey and he'd had her switch from boy to girl repeatedly between every stop. She'd traveled as either his younger brother or his spinster sister. It had been fun at first. And the freedom that she'd had to roam about the large steamboat at her leisure (while dressed as a boy of course) and even spit over the railing into the white crashing waves had been exhilarating at first. But after the first week it had just become plain exhausting and she longed to stay somewhere more than a single night or on a rocking hull.
If she never stepped on another boat or train car or passenger coach again it would be far too soon.
He turned to her with no trace of the annoyance he must have felt on his face. "We're almost there. Just a half hour more at most."
Evangeline nodded and screwed her lips shut and let him help her into the boat, then settled on a seat and wished that it wasn't nearly midnight so that she could actually see their surroundings.
During the journey Erik had regaled her with stories of Italy and Venice. He'd walked her through his memories of the sinking city and told her stories about it with such vivid details that if she closed her eyes she could practically see it. Well now she was actually there and there was nothing much to see. Traveling at night was better, he'd explained. There would be fewer witnesses, he'd said. It was rubbish, she'd complained. She wanted adventure. What good was adventure if she couldn't even see?
The little boat lifted off from the dock as sailors shouted orders to one another. It rocked gently as they sailed onward with nothing but the moon and a few lanterns for guidance.
Eventually they alighted at another dock. The sailors dumped their belongings off the ship and quickly rowed away. Evangeline turned and grabbed a bag and watched Erik as he picked up their suitcases.
"This way," he said and then he was guided her down twisting, narrow alleyways. Evangeline followed behind him dutifully as she concentrated on navigating the uneven cobblestones in the dark. She was thankful for her sensible boy's shoes.
At last they came to a stop in front of a fresco covered brick building. Evangeline studied the old brightly painted yellow wooden and iron door as Erik fished about his pockets for his keys. She paused to glance and take in what little of the street that she could see. All of the buildings had three or more stories. They'd climbed over three arching bridges to cross canals full of water to reach this street. The alley was narrow, as they all seemed to be in Venice where real estate was sparse, but it was charming. Flower pots hung from iron window railings and ivy climbed up a crumbling stone wall. Shutters had been pinned open and gauzy curtains stirred in the windows as a faint summer breeze made the muggy Summer heat less oppressive. Despite the late hour she could hear the murmurings of people going on about their daily lives. There was the clinking of cutlery and wine glasses mixing with laughter and hushed conversation as people talked within the comforts of their homes.
"Ah! There," Erik exclaimed as the bolt unlocked. He'd swung it open then picked up their things. She followed behind as he led her inside. The heavy door swung shut behind her.
The staircase was narrow and steep and difficult to traverse in the dark. Evangeline followed behind with one hand trailing on the wall to guide her step.
"You really must have cats eyes," she told him.
"The better to see you with," he humored her.
He led her to the top floor then paused outside of a door as he once again fumbled with his ring of keys. But before he could fit the keys in the lock the door opened.
Evangeline glanced up into the warm brown eyes of a Middle Eastern man dressed in a black formal three piece suit despite the heat.
"Ah, Daroga, you're here… of course you are," Erik grumbled. "Here, make yourself useful and take a bag," Erik said as he shoved a valise toward the man.
Evangeline felt the man's stare on her as Erik led her around the man and inside the apartment. She followed behind dutifully and tried not to stare back at him. Whenever she was dressed as a boy she avoided speaking around others. Her voice always gave her away. She was too tall to pass for a young boy who hadn't yet become a man. Her eyes darted around the room and bounced surreptitiously between both men.
Erik gave her a slight nod. "The Daroga is a… well I suppose he would call himself a friend. I would describe him more as a pest that I can not seem to shake no matter how hard I try."
The Daroga set the suitcase down in the hall then shut and locked the door behind them. He tsked. "I like to think of myself as your living conscience… since you seem to have none of your own."
Evangeline looked between them curiously as she pulled her her cap off her head, unbound her tied up hair, and massaged fingers into her aching, throbbing scalp. She sighed with the bliss of it.
"Oh Erik, what have you done now," the Daroga lamented with a groan as the man studied her up and down.
Evangeline's brows rose and a smile tipped her lips up as she darted her eyes towards Erik. "Are you in trouble now?" she jested.
"Erik is always in trouble as far as the Daroga is concerned," Erik quipped while shrugging off his coat and hanging it up on the coat rack.
"Excuse my rude manners, mademoiselle. My name is Nadir Khan. It is a pleasure to meet you, and I am at humbly your service," the Daroga said with a polite little bow.
Evangeline smiled and curtsied, holding a pretend dress out to the side like when she'd learned how to properly present herself to the Queen at her debutante ball. "The pleasure is mine, please call me Eva," she offered with a nod of her head.
Erik snorted. "It took me weeks before you'd let me call you that," he pouted.
"Monsieur Khan has nicer manners," she teased.
Erik threw back his head and laughed.
Evangeline awoke with an energized start and practically leapt from the bed. She crossed the room and pulled the sheer white curtains apart to peer through the wavy glass window. It was well past dawn and the streets were alive with foot traffic as Venetians made their way up and down the narrow side street. She watched a pack of young boys in short pants chase after a dog with a stolen bit of food as the shaggy mutt ran for freedom with his prize. Young women who seemed familiar with each other stopped for a moment to chat as they made their way through their daily chores. A man pulling a small hand cart squeezed past them, his cargo of glass bottles clinking together as they were jostled together over the rough cobblestones. Looking out over the horizon Evangeline's breath left her as she saw the city in full daylight. There were the canals that they'd walked over and on the water were strange little black boats with men ferrying their passengers about with long sticks to propel them. The entire city was cut all up with water ways. It was the most curious, charming, and fantastical thing that she'd ever seen. It was a city that looked like it had been plucked directly from a dream.
"Ah, you are awake," Erik called from the open doorway. "I thought I heard stirring."
Evangeline looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. She bounded over to him, threw her arms around his neck, and smothered his mouth with an open kiss.
"Please please please let's go and explore the city, I want to see absolutely everything!" she begged
"How can I resist when you ask so charmingly?" he agreed as he slid his hands down her back. "Get dressed, we will start with coffee and pastries. But hurry, the hour is almost half past nine already."
When the door clicked shut behind him she tore her chemise off and poured a good amount of freshwater into the basin. The water was cold and it made her skin pebble with gooseflesh but the feeling of being clean after the long journey was absolutely worth it. She dragged the sponge along her face and body then wiped herself dry with a fluffy towel. Evangeline slipped into a clean chemise and pulled her loosely laced corset over her head. While traveling she'd had to quickly learn how to dress herself. Erik had assisted her the first time or two. But it was difficult to manage it all the time with their brother and sister charade. He'd been the one to suggest the double long laces. This way she could slip it over her head already laced then tighten it down herself as best as she could. They'd not thought to buy a front lacing corset so they'd had to make do. Thankfully the structure and fit of her current secondhand dress was more forgiving, if less fashionable or flattering, than her typical haute couture gowns.
One chemise, followed by a set of stockings tied in place with garters, paired with shoes, and then her corset, corset cover, pockets tied around her waist, covered by one thin petticoat, and then the finally the whole ensemble was topped with her dress and she was finally fit to be seen in public. She brushed the snarls from her hair and threw it up into a simple style and pinned it quickly into place. Grabbing her straw hat she stepped out into the parlor and smiled when she saw the Daroga sitting in the wingback armchair as he read the morning's paper.
"Good morning, monsieur," she called to him with a nod.
The Daroga tipped his newspaper to her and answered in kind.
"Ready?" Erik asked as he pulled his fedora low over his forehead and extended his arm to her.
Evangeline took it and leaned into his side. "Always."
Their tour through Venice covered nearly all of its main points. They'd started by having a cappuccino and a flaky buttery pastry at the nearest cafe, then they'd walked to the famous Rialto bridge which spanned the grand canal at the heart of the city. As the major thoroughfare for Venice it was bustling with activity and packed with travelers and tourists alike. Gondoliers ferried passengers across the wide canal while street vendors tried to attract buyers to their display of goods.
Erik brought her to San Marco's square and showed her the old prince's palace and taught her about its architectural style and historical significance. Evangeline set her hand atop the head of a carved lion statue as she peered up at the exquisite marble building.
"They are restoring it? But what happened?" she'd asked.
Erik shrugged. "Fires, and the general decay of time. It is in a near constant state of restoration and rebirth now that the seat of the government has moved yet again. They plan to turn it into a museum from what I have heard. Now, if you turn to your right you will see Saint Mark's clocktower which is not only a timepiece but also an astrolabe."
Evangeline turned her attention to the blue and gold clock and smiled softly as Erik continued to show her about the city. As the crowds began to thicken in the square they dodged past the worst of it and wandered down a series of less crowded side streets until it was quiet and empty again. And that was the beauty of Venice. The main roads were filled with people but if you took just a few steps to the side and it felt like the entire city was yours again. She could tell why he liked it.
Hours passed by in a blur as the explored the island together until her feet had blistered in her boots. He showed her Marco Polo's house and the stamped brick with his name in it, then told her about Vivaldi's musical genius. He'd explained the exploits of the fictional lover Don Juan as well as the adventures of the very real and very scandalous author Giacomo Casanova who'd once called Venice home before his exile from the island.
"How scandalous," she'd laughed. "Where next?" she asked as they turned a corner.
"Supper I should think. Unless you are not hungry yet after the luncheon," he rebutted.
"I am famished," she answered.
"How do you feel about squid?" he queried.
Evangeline cut her eyes to him with a look of mock horror on her face.
"Alright, not squid, then. Although we really must work on expanding your narrow English palate, my dear."
Evangeline shot him a wry look. "My palate is quite refined enough, thank you very much."
They dined at a rooftop cafe that offered the most spectacular view of the city. Venice during the day had been breathtaking but by star and candlelight it was absolutely divine. It set a romantic mood that had her body humming with pleasure.
She drank wine until her head felt delightfully muddled and her heart felt lighter than it had in years. Each step towards the apartment on their walk home took intense concentration and effort as she swayed down the alley. Evangeline leaned into Erik and pressed her nose to his shoulder so that she could smell his unique scent as they strolled. What was it exactly? Amber, Sandalwood, and something else. His lips ghosted against her forehead and his breath stirred the fine hairs along her scalp as he placed a tender kiss against her brow.
"Ciao! Buonosera!" A friendly voice shouted at them from a distance.
They turned in time to see a young Italian man cross the canal to speak with them. Evangeline watched their exchange as Erik spoke to the man in Italian. She followed bits and pieces of the conversation although her Italian was rustier than she'd have thought and the man spoke rapidly and with a heavy accent. She glanced up at Erik in amused confusion when his grip on her slid from her shoulders to her hip.
The young man's friendly gaze roamed her from top to bottom as if assessing her.
She raised a haughty eyebrow and schooled her face into an unreadable mask of indifference. But this only made the young man laugh again. The two men talked animatedly a little bit longer.
"Ciao, Francesco, addio," Erik said finally as he waved the young man away.
The young man glanced at her and grinned then had the audacity to wink at her just before he slunk off to the side and continued on his way.
"What was that about?" Evangeline asked once they were alone again.
Erik cleared his throat, then sighed. "That fool is Francesco Bonato. He is a second chair violinist whom I play with on occasion when I am forced to perform my work in public. He was inquiring about my early arrival back to Venice and asking when I might be expected to return to the theater. I play at La Fenice on rare occasions after enough flattery and bribery from the managers and pestering from the Daroga."
Evangeline looked up at him thoughtfully. "I did not understand some of the words that he used. What is a cumare?"
"You will not repeat that word again," Erik scolded. Then in a gentler more apologetic tone he added, "It is not polite."
Evangeline thought on this then nodded with sudden understanding. The saucy wink made more sense now.
"He thinks that I am your mistress," she stated matter of factly.
That idea struck her with a sudden sense of clarity. And she was now, in the eyes of the world, wasn't she? Pausing a moment she considered whether or not she cared. She should, she realized, but instead she found that all that tightly coiled anxiety she'd carried with her for all of her twenty-six years had been lifted from her shoulders.
Erik's face colored and he looked pained for a moment.
Her head cleared suddenly from the wine and she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. The days may be hot and muggy but the nights held a crisp chill that hinted at the beginning of autumn.
"This was not what I had…" he sighed and looked miserable and defeated.
"Erik… everything is alright. I am fine. I mean honestly, did you really think that I would not know how this looks to others? But I find that I simply can not bring myself to care. I spent years living under the suffocating rules and expectations of others. I am happy to simply breathe now and to be myself for once regardless of what others may think of me- to find out who I truly am. In the first week of our journey I was numb to everything. You could have led me to China and I would have followed blindly in that stupor. But eventually the sharp edges of pain faded just a little and I was left with this overwhelming sense of relief that I no longer had to pretend to be what others wanted me to be or pretend to feel what others wanted me to feel. I can not predict what the future brings for any of us. But I know that for once I am excited to find out. Come what may."
He was silent as enveloped her, pulled her forward, and tugged her close.
Evangeline pressed her nose to his shirt and inhaled the rich scent of sandalwood and amber and something foreign. The corners of her mouth tipped up as she buried her face into the soft wool of his jacket.
"Let's go home," she murmured.
September 2nd, 1874
My dearest brother,
Venice is lovely in the autumn when the tourists have left for warmer cities to the south. I am beginning to feel like a true Venetian and my Italian has improved greatly through complete immersion into the culture. I am overly fond of the cappuccinos and cornettos at Caffe Florian. It is a quaint little coffee shop in the heart of Saint Mark's square. One can sit there for hours and observe the people and pigeons. Somedays I am not certain which ones are more entertaining to watch.
Italians are a remarkable and amusing people. They are as outwardly friendly to strangers as they are wary of them. The elderly woman who lives downstairs and sweeps the entryway each morning has adopted me as if I am a stray kitten. She collects, them you see. She tells me that I am far too pale and thin then feeds me seed cakes and tea while she tells me stories from her youth. She has the fattest orange cat that I have ever seen. He is often found either sunning himself in the fenced off garden out back or sitting on the brick wall and baiting the neighbor's small dog with his twitching tail. The little dog, his name is Tino, has quite the large bark for such a small creature. I am certain that if he ever managed to catch the cat he would be at a complete loss of what to do with it. For all that they pretend to be mortal enemies I think that they are secretly the best of friends.
Erik tells me that he plans to take me to see Rome this November. I am quite excited to tour the archeological sites together. His expertise in architecture has amazed me. It seems that Erik has many hidden skills and talents. Just the other day he surprised me with a small but exceedingly complex mechanical toy. It is in the figure of a stone wall with a big fat cat. As the cat's tail twitches back and forth the small dog at the base rises up to snap the cat's tail in its jaws but just barely misses it. I laughed for hours until tears rolled down my face.
After touring the local art gallery I have decided to take up painting again. Inspiration struck me as I viewed the works of Gentileschi and Carravagio. I have a tutor who comes to the house weekly for lessons. He is a strange creature with great big bushy white hair and who speaks very little and talks mostly with his hands. When frustrated at my stilted progress he waves them at me while cursing the most foul oaths that I have ever heard in any language- and yes that includes Russian. Erik nearly strangled him during the first instance. I think that I have mostly convinced Erik to let me handle my own affairs now. He can not understand how I am amused by all of it.
I hope that I have not left you behind too much of a mess dear brother. Please send word with how you, Jonathan, and Georgiana are doing. I am terribly grieved at the lack of news from England.
As ever your friend,
Your lovely, brilliant, and most talented sister
P.s. did I lay the guilt on too thickly there?
Post Office Telegram
RECEIVED AT VENEZIA 30 SEPTEMBER 1874
693 VALLARESSO, BUILDING WITH A YELLOW DOOR, THIRD FLOOR
HER LADYSHIP MISS EVANGELINE CATHERINE ANNE HARLOWE
QUITE A MESS DEAR GIRL. JONATHAN AND I ARE WELL. GEORGIANA HAPPILY WEDDED. GLAD TO HEAR ITALY SUITS. PLANS TO VISIT NEXT SUMMER. AUNTIE SENDS HER LOVE AND SAYS TO TELL THE MUSIC MAN TO KEEP HER VIOLIN SAFE. YOUR MOST CLEVER HANDSOME TALENTED AND EVER FAITHFUL BROTHER.
October 16th, 1874
To my no-account rottenmost brother,
Thank you for spreading the status of my name throughout all of bloody Italy. Your telegram created quite the stir and I have lost all shreds of anonymity. I have had no fewer than two callers a day for the past two weeks since your telegram arrived. The postmaster told his wife who told her sister who told her gardening club, etc. Word has spread like a drop of ink in a cup of water. What would have earned me the cut-direct in London seems to have had the opposite effect here. Italians are such romantics and the bourgeois of Venice were frightfully bored before we arrived. The social climbing idle gossips of the island wish to see me with their own eyes and gather stories about us to spread amongst themselves to make their dull little lives seem more interesting to their friends and, yet more importantly, to their rivals. We have had to refuse invitations to dinners, parties, and musicales left and right. Erik has threatened to move us to Vienna if it does not settle soon.
On more pleasant news the landlady's fat orange cat has turned out to be female and has brought forth a litter of the most adorable kittens that I have ever seen in my entire life. She let me have my pick of the bunch. I've taken the largest male and named him Freddie so that I may yell your name loudly at him when I am cross with his poor manners. He has turned out to be quite mischievous so it happens with a great deal of frequency. His naming was apparently quite appropriate.
Nevertheless we are looking forward to your visit this Summer. I have sweet talked Erik into renting the most charming flat off the coast of Capri from June through August. The address will follow once the details have been settled. I have heard that the swimming there is divine and there is a local cuisine called pizza that is absolutely not to be missed. If you are very lucky I will be so happily saturated with good pasta and even better wine that I will forget to attempt to drown you.
Ever your friend,
Your darling sister
P.s. please do give Georgiana my felicitations on her nuptials
Autumn came and went all too quickly and then suddenly it was very nearly winter. They'd returned from Rome just two weeks ago and been thrown right into Christmas preparations.
Evangeline had always embraced the Christmas season with widely opened arms. And why not? There was just something magical about that time of year when snow softened the harsh edges of the world and people were just a little bit kinder to one another. She loved everything about it from the Christmas carols, to the decorations, to the food, and to the presents. She especially loved the presents. She didn't even mind having to go to church. Christmas Eve service had always been a favorite of hers. There was just something so enchanting about the candle lighting ceremony that she'd loved ever since she was a little girl. Her favorite part, however, had to be sitting around the fire scaring each other silly with ghost stories.
"What is the purpose of this?" Erik asked as he lifted up an orange that she'd studded all over with cloves.
Evangeline picked up the red ribbon that she had intended to string it with. "For hanging, silly, because it smells nice."
He lifted it to his face and sniffed it then shrugged and set it back down on the table.
"It seems like an awful lot of bother for one day," he asserted with an indifferent voice.
The Persian folded his newspaper shut with a snap. "Let the young lady enjoy her holidays, Erik. Who knows, perhaps a tiny bit of her joy will rub off on you just a little. Allah himself knows that you could use a little more levity in your life," the Persian chided.
Evangeline beemed a glorious smile at the Persian. "Thank you, Monsieur Khan. Do your people have any traditions at this time of year? I am sorry that I did not think to ask you before just now." She took the clove studded orange and affixed the red ribbon to it with a sharp pin then set it aside and reached into her assortment of decor to grab more fixings.
"I have an entire tree sitting in my parlor at the moment instead of outside which is where trees generally belong. I have allowed quite a lot of frivolity into my life this December," Erik countered.
They ignored him.
"My people celebrate Eld Al-Adha, my dear. We pilgrimage to our holy site and spend the days in prayer and celebration. It is tradition to slaughter a sheep and divide it between family, friends, and the poor. It is a way to do a kindness to those who are less fortunate and to celebrate with those we love," the Persian explained.
"Similar to boxing day then and giving out alms to the poor," Evangeline concluded with a smile. "We should have mutton then along with our goose and donate some food to a poor house," she added.
The Persian smiled, nodded one, then opened up his paper again.
"What is this now, with all these leaves?" Erik asked as he picked up a stray bit of white berried greenery that she'd been clumsily working into a bundle.
Evangeline huffed. "It was supposed to be a mistletoe ball but I fear that I have little skill for the task and it shall have to be a swag instead," she muttered.
Erik lifted it to his nose and gave it a sniff. "This one does not smell strongly."
She cast him a sidelong glance and gave him a wry smile. "Of course not it's for kissing."
"How so?" he probed as he turned the twig over in his hand and gave it an odd look.
"When two people stand under it together they must kiss," she explained with a touch of exasperation in her voice. "Really, Erik, were you raised by wolves?" she teased.
"By the family dog, actually," he answered.
Evangeline glanced at him with a puzzled expression as she tied a wire around the mistletoe swag then decorated it with a red ribbon. She surveyed the table full of decor and concluded that they likely had enough to make their small apartment festive enough for the season. She stood and gathered up one of the garlands.
"Help me hang it all?" she asked even as she turned and loaded up his arms with the long lengths of twined together evergreen branches.
They decorated the tree and the apartment together until the hour grew late and the Persian excused himself for the evening.
She grabbed two loops of a bow that she'd tied onto their christmas tree and set to straightening it then stepped back, did a sweep of the flat, and declared it sufficiently in the Christmas spirit.
"And this one?" Erik asked as he held the mistletoe swag above their heads.
It was so charming to see him slowly get into the Christmas spirit. He'd been shy and hesitant at first before offering suggestions and making little improvements. It also helped that he was very tall and could hang things up with ease.
Evangeline obligingly stood on her tiptoes, threw her arms around Erik's neck and placed a kiss against his mouth. His leather mask was warm against her cheek. Their tongues melded together as they kissed until she was breathless and strummed taut with anticipation. When she felt his arms come about her backside she thought nothing of it until he'd hoisted her up against him so high that her feet dangled in the air. She shivered. It was always so easy to forget just how strong and imposing he was until he did something like this which showed off his wiry strength.
She broke away from the kiss as he carried her towards the bedchamber.
"But what about our mistletoe?" she cried out.
"I will hang it later. For now we have more pressing concerns," he insisted.
Evangeline felt him hardening against her soft stomach as he carried her from the room. "Oh, yes… I see that you have certainly been filled with Christmas spirit," she teased.
Erik grunted. "No, my darling, it's you who is about to get filled," he countered as his hand dipped low to stroke her buttocks through the many layers of her skirt. He kicked the door to her bedroom open and carried her inside then shut it loudly behind them.
Evangeline laughed as he tossed her down onto the bed. She watched him as he undressed and made a show of it. His body was lean and beautiful despite the scars that covered his wrists and back. They'd never bothered her. Despite her curiosity about them she'd never asked and he'd never offered to share their story. She let her gaze roll over him and enjoyed the way his muscles bunched and moved as he shed his clothing.
Sitting up on elbows she enjoyed the show and made no move to disrobe herself. If he'd wanted her to begin undressing he'd have ordered it. Sometimes he preferred to take her clothed or in some various stage of undress. She'd learned months ago to let him lead. Erik craved control over their interactions… and her. And she was all too eager to give it. Her mind had a delicious way of shutting off when she surrendered to his whims.
Erik kicked his clothing free and stroked a hand down his hard, bobbing length. She licked her lips and let them part in offering as she watched a dot of fluid glisten at the tip.
"Kneel," he ordered.
She obeyed. Scrambling off the bed she sank down to the ground before him and assumed the pose he favored most. The supplicant, she called it in her head. With her arms linked behind her back, breasts thrust forward, and her legs spread wide on the floor she let her jaw go slack and stared up at him.
Their gaze locked together Evangeline watch the look of bliss that crossed his face at the exact moment that he fed himself onto her waiting tongue. Teeth tucked away behind her lips she focused on her breathing as he slid all the way to the back of her throat then pulled free. She blinked up at him with trusting eyes as he surged forward and cut off her access to air again. He repeated it twice more then settled more shallowly within her mouth, giving small thrusts as she sucked against him and bathed him with her tongue. He tasted musky and salty and distinctly male. Erik stared down at her with such intensity as she suckled him that she felt her own sex throb and plump in response. It was unnatural how he could trigger such reactions within her with just a look or caress or a word whispered into her ear.
Evangeline licked and sucked him dutifully as he set the pace while he fucked her mouth. Dampness creeped from her core as she throbbed and longed to touch herself. But the wait for release was half the fun.
Erik pulled free from her mouth with a pop and Evangeline watched a string of saliva connect them once again for a moment before it broke apart with distance. He grabbed her by the arm and hoisted her up on weak legs, then spinned her about face quickly and shoved her shoulders forward. She brought her arms up to brace her weight onto the bed as she spread her legs and softened her knees. The offering, she thought.
Her skirts rustled as he hoisted them up and settled them on her back. Cold air kissed her delicate skin through the slit in her drawers. She shivered at the intrusion and the feeling of vulnerability at being exposed yet clothed.
Long thin fingers probed her wet slit and warm center through the opening of her pantalettes. He inserted one finger, then a second, and pumped them in and out of her until she moaned. Her weight shifted from one leg to the other while Erik hooked his fingers inside of her and brushed against the spot inside that made her want to scream.
His assault continued, then withdrew abruptly until she felt the familiar nudging of his erection at her swollen lips. He nudged at her entrance then sank inside with practiced ease. She sighed and pushed back against him, eager for him to continue. He stopped, instead, and Evangeline felt fingers at her nape and in her hair. One by one he pulled a hairpin from her coiled her and threw them to the floor with a ping. Once her hair was free he threaded fingers into it at her nape and pulled her head back sharply. His free hand clamped the flare of her hip and held her in place before him. The arch of her throat being stretched and the dull fire where his fingers fisted through her strands and tugged made her spasm around him as he thrust forward and bounced her knees against the bed.
Her mind filled with delicious fog as he forced her to her breaking point and shattered her against that place where the line between pain and pleasure blurred together. As she spasmed and clenched around him she moaned and cried out with her release.
"I don't recall you asking for permission first," he drawled.
Evangeline smiled and squeezed her muscles around him in silent response.
Erik gave her a moment to enjoy the aftershocks of her orgasm.
"Must I remind you of your place?" he asked.
And then he began his assault on her in earnest.
He plunged forward at a grueling pace and bounced her against the bed even as he pinned her at the hip and with the hand he'd fisted in her hair. She stretched against him and whimpered while he sought his own release.
He rode her to ruin and all she could do was pant and hold herself up on her propped up arms as he slammed into her from behind with each thrust oh his hips. Her body surrendered to his bliss..
A moment later his own cries were added to the room as his pace increased to a frenzy then stilted then stuttered to a stop. He gave three more shallow little thrusts then released the merciless grip he'd held at the nape of her neck. His breath hissed through clenched teeth as she squeezed her muscles against him while he softened.
And then he pulled away from her and once again she felt fingers spreading her folds apart as Erik explored her again. Squeezing down on muscles that felt equal parts sorely used and satisfied she felt the proof of his release as it began to trickle out of her. She let her head hang down and squeezed it free from her and she wished that she could see his face. He always seemed to derive great pleasure from watching their mess trickle out of her.
His fingers roamed and found the apex of her core, the spot that sent shocks down her spine and made her gasp and moan underneath his hands. He rolled the swollen little bundle of nerves in circles then brushed it side by side. Erik's ingenious fingers toyed and played with her and brought her once again to the brink of orgasm. His pace slowed and increased then slowed again as he frustrated her purposefully.
"Erik… please," she moaned as he rolled her over sensitive parts back and forth and continued to torment her.
"Yes, my dear?" he prompted.
"Please Erik I want to cum," she begged. Her knees wobbled together as her legs shook with the strain of her building release. She shifted her weight on her hands and tried to push back against his fingers as if to show him where to press.
His fingers withdrew from her and she cried out in protest as her build to release stalled and the pleasure ebbed.
A hand came down and slapped her clothed backside with a fearful clap that filled the room and startled a small yelp from her.
"You do not give the orders here," he reminded her.
Erik's hand came down on her other cheek which set it jiggling until it pulled deliciously against her throbbing sex. Her muscles clenched in response until the sting faded and left just a slow heat behind.
"I am sorry, please forgive me," she croaked even as she rubbed her thighs together in the hopes that it might stir some friction and might bring about her own release and end this aching torment.
"Pretty lies," he countered. "Do you think that I don't see your naughty squirming right this very moment? You will have pleasure when I give it to you and not a moment sooner. Is that clear?"
Evangeline forced herself to be still and made a noise of protest. "Please… please please please," she whispered as her pussy continued to throb and moisture slicked her thighs.
His hands rained down a blaze of sting and fire on her buttocks and thighs as he spanked her. A finger paused the assault and swirled her over sensitive bits until her hips bucked of their own accord and her breathing grew ragged again. A hand came down, a little lighter, directly on her swollen lips and the change startled her. He spanked her between her thighs once, then paused to play with her. When she began to squirm again he stopped fingering her and brought a hand back down again on swollen skin. Fire and lighting shot through her core as he alternated spanking and fingering her until once more she was on that familiar edge.
"I am going to cum sir," she warned him in a thready voice.
His fingers continued their dance of pleasure and pain. "Not yet," he ordered sternly even as he played with her.
Breath left her in a frustrated huff as she strived to stall her orgasm. She clamped down on it and held her breathing until she felt dizzy and lightheaded. Her head throbbed in time with her core as he slipped a finger inside of her and set his thumb to her and rubbed her mercilessly. And then she was nearly on the verge of passing out as the taut string within her pulled even tighter than she could have imagined.
"Cum for me," he commanded finally.
And she did. Evangeline exhaled on a scream and sucked in a greedy gulp of air as she spiraled into her second orgasm and collapsed against the bed. Erik's fingers played with her through her quivering at a leisurely pace until she twitched and sighed and then was silent.
Once she was done and still he pulled her limp form onto the bed and into his lap. His fingers threaded once again into the wild tangles of her hair.
She pressed her ear against his chest, nevermind that he was covered in a fine layer of sweat which was rapidly cooling and feeling clammy, and smiled at the rapid thumping of his heart.
"I love you," she murmured softly.
A finger came under her chin and tipped her head back as Erik's mouth descended onto hers in a kiss.
"I love you too," he whispered against her mouth and hugged her tighter.
Evangeline awoke the next morning feeling refreshed and full of energy. She dressed quickly but paid special attention to her hair which she'd brushed until it shone like spun gold. Braided strands on each side crossed to the back of her head and were pinned together in the back. The rest of it she left free. It was scandalous to be sure but she was past caring what others thought of her. Erik liked to see her hair down and curling about her shoulders and she was happy to oblige him on such a small thing.
She opened the door to her bedroom and walked down the hallway but paused and stared in wonder at the parlor.
What had been cheerfully decorated with evergreen garlands, red ribbons, and boughs of holly had been utterly transformed. She stepped into the room and turned about to take it all in.
Paper snowflakes, each one more intricate that the last, had been suspended on small wires from the ceiling. They blanketed the room and added a whimsy that her Christmas decorations had lacked. Tiny snowflakes lay scattered all about covering every spare inch of their fireplace mantel and each and every table.
Evangeline paused on her way to their small kitchen and looked up at the perfectly spherical ball of mistletoe that had been suspended from the arch by a red velvet ribbon. A smile split her face as she spotted Erik, hunched over their little table and fast asleep, with his face buried in his arms.
She headed back to the parlor and grabbed their knitted throw from the back of the settee then carried it to the kitchen and draped it over his shoulders. He awakened as the weight of the blanket settled on his frame.
Bending down she pressed a kiss to his mask. "Thank you."
"When you said that we were going to church for the candlelit Christmas Eve service I had been under the impression that we might attend through the front door like normal people," Evangeline muttered.
Erik looked over his shoulder at her with an unreadable expression. "Since when are either of us considered normal? Besides, sneaking in where one is not welcome makes it all the more exciting," he proclaimed as his deft fingers shimmied the lock picking tools inside the big iron padlock. It clicked open and he caught it before it could fall to the floor and make a great deal of noise.
"Ladies first," he offered as he swept her inside quickly and shut the door behind them.
The back of the church was pitch black and her eyes strained and failed to adjust to the dark as Erik grabbed her hand and led her through the dark. Faint murmurings from the front of the church filtered through the stone building. The priest's sermon had just begun.
"Where are we going?" she whispered, then felt fingers on her lips to shush her.
Erik led her through the black with his cats eyes. She stumbled on the first stair but managed to catch herself. His hand gripped her by the elbow as he led her up a spiral staircase. They climbed for what felt like ages until at last the stone stairs ended and when she stepped she heard the squeak and shift of wooden floorboards.
The hiss of a match being struck and the flare of is tiny light cast a soft glow as Erik let her hand go and set the tiny flame to an awaiting candle.
Evangeline turned in circles as the darkness peeled away with each lit candle. Dozens of candelabras had been scattered about a narrow room. She looked up and peered into the darkness of the bell tower and could just faintly make out the huge brass bell at the top.
"Wine?" Erik offered as he pulled out a bottle and his knife and cut the seal.
She giggled. "My favorite part of church," she joked while Erik worked the cork free.
He motioned for her to sit, then magicked two glasses from somewhere hidden and poured her a healthy measure. At his gesture she sat and fixed her skirts around her legs.
"We will not be bothered here?" she hazarded and took a sip as she glanced about the tower. The candles cast a soft romantic glow as the sounds of the priest's Christmas sermon filtered softly through the floorboards.
"I know for a fact that the bells were automated four years ago. It was one of my first jobs in Venice, truth be told. They come up here rarely now. There will be no bell ringer to disturb us tonight," he confided.
Erik poured his own glass then set the bottle aside and, folding his long legs on either side of her, sat behind her.
Evangeline let her head tip back onto his shoulder and closed her eyes as the choir started to sing. It was blissful. They listened in friendly silence as the choir led the church from one song to another.
"I have another surprise this evening," Erik added as he reached into a pocket and rummaged about.
"Me too," she interrupted. Her skirts rustled as she reached through her many layers into her pockets and pulled out a small wooden box. "Ladies first?" she asked as she held it up.
Erik pulled an empty hand out of his pockets and took the wooden box into his hands. The lid creaked open and he pulled out a gold and silver pocket watch from inside. It gleamed in the candlelight. The front motif was a pattern of stars. She hoped that he recognized it as the astrolabe design from the clock tower that he'd shown her on her first full day in venice.
She leaned back into his chest as her studied it. "I had it custom made. If you open it you will see the cameo that I painted for you."
Erik opened it dutifully and held it at an angle till it caught the light. He clicked the watch open.
Her own face, in miniature, stared back at them. Despite the small size of the painting it did not lack in detail. Her mouth tipped up in a saucy smile and her eyes squinted with secrets. A rosy blush spread across her freckled checks. She'd worn the white and gold gown that he favored and her blonde hair fell about her face and neck in a lion's mane of curls. The bodice of her gown dipped low to expose a tasteful amount of decolletage.
She felt a kiss being pressed against her temple as Erik ran a thumb along the side of the pocket watch.
"Do you like it?" she asked.
"How could I not?" he answered.
Evangeline grinned as excitement bubbled up inside of her. "Good. Now open the back. See this crescent moon? Press it with your fingernail."
He pressed the edge of his thumb against the crescent moon and felt the back of the watch pop open in his hand. Erik clicked the front shut and turned it over in his hands. A laugh ripped from his chest as he spied the intricate moving mechanism on the backside of the watch.
"Is it not absolutely scandalous? With every second that ticks on the face of the watch he thrusts into her. I knew that you would appreciate the moving mechanisms as well as the salacious design," she explained.
They stared at the complicated moving motiff of a man bedding a half dressed woman. Her legs were splayed on either side of him as he kneeled before her, poised to thrust in and out of her as time marched on. Her breasts had exploded from the confines of her half laced dress and her head was tipped back in ecstasy as her clockwork lover tirelessly worked her.
"Everytime you check the time I want you to think of what is happening on the backside of this watch and then think of me," she added.
"You are incorrigible," he chuckled as he clicked the back of the watch closed and hid the fornicating lovers from view. Erik spirited the watch away into a pocket.
"It is one of the things that you love most about me," she chirped.
"I love everything about you," he proclaimed and pressed another kiss against her hair.
Evangeline smiled widely and plucked the velvet box from a fold in her skirt. "My turn now!" she exclaimed as she held her empty hands open in the air before her and shut her eyes.
Something small and soft and heavy filled her hands.
She opened her eyes and saw a little black velvet box. With trembling hands and a lump in her throat she cracked it open.
The ring was yellow gold and stunning. Her heart began to hammer wildly in her chest as she peered down at it. A carved filigree band widened until it flared dramattically to cup a large rectangular diamond. Small swirls of scroll wrapped around the stone, and tiny seed pearls dotted their center to form a halo. Evangeline plucked the ring from the box and held it up to catch the light.
"I would do it properly… but I thought… that is I mean to say… I had hoped…" Erik stammered.
Evangeline twisted in his lap and turned to look at him as she held the ring between them and searched his face.
"Your feelings on matrimony are clear to me and I do not mean to pressure you. I do not need a slip of paper or hollow words from a priest to know how I feel about you. I merely want to spend my life with you, to take walks together on Sundays and spend each and every Christmas together making garlands and snowflakes. I will spend a lifetime showing you all of the wonders of the world so long as you wear this ring. And if you should tire of it… of me… simply take it off and I will… I will let you go and wish you well," he proposed.
Evangeline blnked tears from her eyes and realized that he was waiting for her answer. But a lump had lodged in her throat. She nodded mutely instead and smiled at him even as the tears rolled down her cheeks.
Erik took the ring from her and cupped her hand as gently as if it were made from glass. The ring slipped up her finger effortlessly and settled into place.
Grabbing his hand to thread their fingers together she reached up with her other arm and cupped his face. She pulled his mouth down to hers in a gentle kiss. The mask pressed warm and soft like an old friend against her cheek.
The Persian said nothing of the sudden appearance of a ring on Evangeline's finger or the fact that Erik, whose clothing had been moved into his office and who had been sleeping (whatever little he did sleep) on the settee, moved his things back into the master bedroom that Evangeline had overtaken upon her arrival to Venice.
But the next day they awakened to a quiet empty flat. The newspaper was still on the front stoop where it had been thrown by the delivery boy. There was no Turkish pot of tea steeping in the kitchen. His hat was mysteriously missing from its normal peg and a valise was missing from the closet.
It was Evangeline who found the note folded and propped against the wooden fruit bowl on their dining table.
Gone to Paris to visit Madame Giry. Will return in a month or so.
Evangeline stared through the eyeholes of her mask as best she could. Carnivale had been everything that she'd expected and more. Together she and Erik and Monsieur Khan had watched the day's parade down the Grand canal as festively decorated gondolas carried elaborately dressed figures in a rainbow of colors downstream.
Venice was alive and her people were celebrating the coming of Spring.
Wine flowed as freely as water and vendors sold food until the wee hours of the night as revelers partied and drank and celebrated.
She wandered the streets and was jostled by the shifting crowds as she sought a perch to stand and enjoy the view. It was a riot of colors and feathers and costumes. Many of the crowd wore full masks and ensembles that covered every inch of their bodies. Even their hair was disguised with fabric. Others simply wore their most elaborate attire and simple half masks.
The masks themselves varied from gruesome to lovely and everything in between. Most were painted porcelain but some were leather or painted lace.
Someone in the crowd bumped her and she felt her costume shift. Stepping to the side she corrected it. The damned thing was so heavy but Erik had insisted. His own costume was a complete secret. He'd made them both and had maddeningly refused to reveal his to her in advance. He wanted to surprise her he'd said. He had a gift planned for her, he'd claimed. Damn, these wings are heavy.
Cursing Erik for making her wear such an elaborate and heavy costume she reached back and adjusted her white angel wings and checked for the thousandth time that night that her mask wasn't crooked also.
The white and gold angel costume had been beautiful and breathtaking until she'd had to wear it. Now it was just heavy and awkward with the jostling crowds. She was thankful that there was still a chill in the air otherwise she'd be overheated in such a garment.
Costume crisis averted Evangeline threw herself back into the crowd of revelers as she searched the crowds for Erik. She'd know him when she saw him, he'd said. He wanted to hunt her down, he'd explained. The revelers cheered and danced to live music as she was folded back into their numbers. Bacchus himself would have been proud of them.
The music stopped abruptly and a hush fell over the crowded street as an imposing figure cut through the horde of costumed partiers. Evangeline turned and watched the masked figure's progress towards her.
A gold bird's mask with a large, ominous pointed beak looked back at her. A black antique pirate's hat trimmed in black ostrich feathers dripped with gold finery adorned his head. The rest of the costume itself was simple; a suit made of matte black velvet edged in gold threaded brocade trim. He was death. He was plague. And he had come for her.
Evangeline tipped her head back and stared up into familiar golden cats eyes as death extended a black leather clad hand towards her. She set her white lace gloved hand in his and followed him through the throng of people. In the middle of San Marco's square they joined the waiting line of dancers. The nearby band struck up a waltz. Party goers (glad to have their music back) took up their carousing again.
Death grabbed her neatly by her waist and danced her nimbly into formation. They turned and spun and swirled until she was breathless. It felt like if he spun her quickly enough her wings would come to life she'd take flight. They danced for what felt like hours until the mass of people began to thin and the hour grew late. Children were taken home and put to bed. Wine splattered every surface and merry makers grew more lecherous and wanton as couples paired off to find dark alleys where two strangers could become one for an evening before parting ways in anonymity.
Tired and light headed from wine and dancing Evangeline followed where Erik silently led her.
He pulled her deeper into shadows as they left the frivolity of San Marco's square behind them.
The alley was half lit from open windows and a gas lamp and not quite deserted yet. A small group of ornately attired Venetians stood together talking loudly. Erik turned and pressed her back flush against the stone wall. His mask stared down at her and sent a chill of goose flesh up her arms. His khol lined golden eyes pierced hers as he pressed his weight into her and pinned her against the bricks.
Long thin fingers pulled at the various layers of her skirt until he'd bunched it up around her hips. Cold air tickled her skin and a blush covered her from chin to chest as Erik exposed her naked legs. He'd forbidden her from wearing anything underneath her petticoats and now she knew why.
Already her inner thighs were slick with anticipation. His hand on her waist as they'd danced had started the throb between her legs. He'd brushed fingers up her back and chest once or twice during a country dance. Soft warm leather brushed once between the junction of her legs then disappeared as she leaned back against the wall and obediently spread her legs for him.
Erik grabbed one of her hands and set her skirts in her grasp then repeated it with the other side so that she stood there holding up her many fine layers, exposed and naked and vulnerable, for anyone who might peer down the half-lit alley to see. The cool breeze tickled at the curls between her legs as moisture gathered there and focused her attention on her shamefulness. She shouldn't be enjoying such a terrible thing but she was. There was no denying it as her heart fluttered wildly in her chest and a familiar ache for more flared and grew within her. She needed. Her body wanted more. Someone might see.
A leather clad finger ghosted up her naked inner thigh. It traveled slowly up her leg but stopped short of where she wanted him to touch her most. Evangeline shifted her grip on her skirts and lifted them higher. She was fully exposed now. If anyone were to walk by they'd see her fully on display as Erik stroked her inner thighs. I am a good girl now please please please reward me, she begged him silently with her eyes with her lower half out on display for all to see.
His leather glove slid North. Her eyes closed when he finally found her center and slipped one long digit up. A hand on her chin distracted her for a moment as Erik tipped her masked face towards the end of the alley where the group of dancers shared a flask of liquor between them. Will they notice? Are they too drunk to see this far down the alley in the dark? Her heart raced in her chest as Erik's leather clad fingers rubbed against her dampness.
She yearned for more even as Erik worked her with practiced ease. His hand knew every inch of her body. He seemed to know just how to make her gasp and beg and plead and whimper.
Obediantly she kept her eyes open on the group of men at the end of their small alley. Do they know? Have they seen?
As her pleasure started to build Erik stopped. In a series of movements that were too quick for her wine dulled mind to recognize he'd freed himself from his trousers, hoisted her up, and impaled her with a single thrust. She cried out at the abrupt entry and the masked group down the alley turned to look at her as Erik began to wildly go at her.
Her thighs tightened around his hips as her skirt bunched up between them exposing the creamy lengths of her legs as they gripped him tight. Her wings and hat were crushed against the wall as he speared her with reckless abandon. She grabbed his shoulders for support.
Laughter down the alley pulled at her attention. They're watching. Erik is taking you in a dirty alley and people are watching us. Loud moans ripped from her throat. She throbbed around him as his assault on her continued. Her breath came in ragged pants as the familiar coil of tension built and tightened deep within her. The angle deepened and ripped a cry from her throat as she threw her head back and tipped her head to the side.
She watched the Venetians watching her get taken up against a wall. And she loved every minute of the shamefulness.
It was lurid how the hot squelching of their bodies joining together filled the halfway empty street and echoed off the bricks. Erik groaned with the effort as he pistoned in and out of her roughly. His punishing grip on her thighs released enough for one hand to snake its way up to her bodice and rip the top of her gown downward, corset and all. One breast bounced free, and then the other as he pulled her completely on display.
She tightened on him and groaned as the cold air and shame pebbled her nipples into sharp peaks. She locked her hands on his shoulders and arched back into the wall. The angle between them deepened and her breasts spilled out. A wing snapped at the force of his thrusting. He bent her leg and changed the angle yet again and now he was rubbing at something inside of her that was so delicious that stars danced behind her eyes.
"I am going to cum," she whispered in a hoarse voice. Just how much had she been moaning? Her voice felt thick and scratchy.
"Louder," he commanded.
"Please! I am going to cum," she warned him slightly louder.
"Louder! So that everyone can hear you enjoy being used like a harlot in an alley while strange men watch," he prompted.
Evangeline scrunched her eyes shut as he blush spread from her face to her neck and breasts in a fiery blaze. The coil of her impending release tightened and thrummed until it was nearly unbearable.
"Please sir!" she nearly yelled it. "I would like to cum," she begged him loudly. Laughter and snickering and conversation teased her ears then faded as her mind narrowed down onto the sensations between her slippery thighs as Erik shagged her ragged and raw until she felt that she would weep if he didn't put an end to her delicious misery. Tears pricked her eyes with the effort to hold it at bay. It felt like dying.
"Sing for me!" Erik ordered.
Evangeline threw her head back against the wall and let herself shatter onto that familiar precipice. Her throaty release bounced and echoed off the alley walls as her body clamped down onto him with such force as she spasmed and fluttered around him.
Erik's release followed soon after. Hot ropes of slickness filled her until she leaked then mixed with her own juices and trickled down her bare thighs as Erik set her down on wobbly legs and let her skirts settle back into place. He tucked his softening member away and checked his mask with nervous habit.
Her heart slowed its hammering in her chest and her breathing steadied until Erik grabbed her by the elbow and propelled them towards, not the abandoned end of the alley as she'd expected, but towards the end where their voyeurs had stood in the shadow and watched them fornicate.
She realized belatedly that her breasts were still tugged free of her corset and dress. They bounced slightly with each step over the uneven cobblestone as Erik paraded her past the assembly they'd performed for. As they neared the group of masked strangers she held her head as high as the titled lady she'd been trained to be. Her hand rested lightly on Erik's proffered gentlemanly arm. She knew from experience that her neck made a graceful line and her posture was perfect. As they passed the masked revelers the men raised their shared flask and hooted and hollered at her. One lifted his mask enough to stick a finger and thumb into his mouth and whistle.
Evangeline continued to hold her head up high as they persisted in their slow meander towards home. Slick and delicious shame trickled slowly down her thigh with every step.
She smiled underneath her mask.
Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who read this story through until the very end. This work has been a labor of love that started back in the summer of 2017 shortly after I finished writing Persephone Unchained. I hope that you've enjoyed a slightly different (surprisingly kinky) kind of Erik. I know I enjoyed writing him. And for those of you who are curious yes I did make a conscious decision to leave out an unmasking scene. Every time I plan out a POTO story I wonder how to handle it. It's nearly always such a turning point for the story. Evangeline simply didn't need or want one.
