As soon as we arrive home, Erik preps for a bath. Not for him, but for me. He searched for a small basin and filled it with heated water (which took a while and was not easy to retrieve).

He dips a finger in to see if it would burn him. He glances up at me. "The water is not hot enough to burn you, my dear. Your bath is ready."

If I was human, I would be undressed and diving into the water...but...as a cat…

Doesn't he know that cats despise water?!

I turn around, and a game of chase then ensues. Erik, being sneakier than any cat alive, grabs me and lifts me into the tub. I grasp onto him, making him hiss. "Don't scratch me."

I didn't, but I'm not letting go, either. I begin crying long, mournful cries in hopes that he may spare me; although, admittedly, I am a filthy mess. Erik, the stubborn mule that he is, wins this round. I am dumped into the water. Oh, it was toture in that tub. If I was human I would lament and purr prettily; as a feline, Erik received only hisses. His hands were gentle on me, and they were pleasant, it was just that damn water! Being taken out and towel-dried was my second favorite part of this action; my first was when he gave me milk after getting dried.

Erik gazes down on me, fondly. "I almost lost you today, my dear." His hand leisurely scratches down my spine, which no longer hurts. "Get some rest." Erik moves to his piano. Eager to hear some music, I scuttle to get close to him. A sudden neediness to get in as close proximity to him as I can, I jump onto the bench and curl up next to his thigh. Erik does not object. I fall asleep to his composing a somber and peaceful tune.

I hear Erik pouring water into the bath when I wake up. I jump off the seat, adrenaline rushing. I did not realize how late it was. Uh oh! I can feel my bones realign. I am transforming! I run-somewhat awkwardly-to the other side of the dining table, just in case Erik decides to come out of the bathroom. I was never awake when this happened before. It feels odd.

Now, completely nude and human, I am on a desperate quest for clothes. I spy a robe draped across his bed. No doubt that is for Erik tonight. I don't care. Covering my body with my hands, I sprint across the room, snatching the robe and wrapping it around my body.

Now what? I bite my lip. I guess I should do my "job".

I enter the bathroom without knocking. It felt natural for some reason. Why am I being so daring? Is it the feline still in me? Erik is already sitting in the tub, head against the edge, eyes closed. He's naked! Completely naked! So what are you doing here!? Since I am supposed to be his 'servant' in a sense, I better play the part.

"Is there anything I can help you with, sir?" That wasn't supposed to sound like it came from a porn film, but it did.

Erik jolts upright. "What are you doing here!? Do you know the definition of privacy?"

I am back away enough so I can't see anything. Only his neck and head-which is still covered by the mask-are visible. I told him this. "Oh, well aren't you a model of virtue," is his snide remark. I should have expected this response from a man who doesn't like being caught off guard.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up." I look back up, surprised by this admittance. "I was wondering if you were going to go back out on your promise and I was going to have to kill you after all."

"Is there something you would like me to do, sir?" I ask.

Erik smirks, and I sense something spiteful. "Servant things."

I give a wry expression. Fine. I'll play. "Would you like me to help wash you?"

"Wash me?!" Erik lurches like he has been shocked by electricity. "Why on earth would you want to do a thing like that?"

"To help clean." What a weak excuse. "Maybe your back, for example?"

Silence. Is he truly considering this? I figured he would have cursed me out and told me to clean his room instead. "Don't touch my mask."

I take it as an affirmative and slowly approach the tub. I come up from behind. Erik has leaned forward. His poor, poor, mangled back. All the scars from previous abusers, all of which were people. Tears rise, but I refuse to let them fall.

I gulp, picking up the sponge, which I rub up his arms, across his shoulders, and down his back. I repeat this sequence several times.

"My eyes may be deceiving me, but I believe, my dear, that you are wearing my robe."

I freeze my movements briefly. "You are correct."

"May I inquire why you are wearing your master's robe?"

I grimace. "Because the clothes I came in are rather grungy. I thought they were...inappropriate."

"So you figured that wearing your master's robe would be more appropriate?"

I blush and rub his body more vigorously.

"I believe you have no more excuses to give from the tip of your forked tongue."

My blush deepens to a darker red.

"Hmm. I see." I can't see it directly, but I can imagine a dark gleam in his eyes. "Take off the robe."

I come to an abrupt stop. Is he serious? He turns his head to face me. His eyes, which are burning a bright ember, tell me he is. "Take it off," he repeats. "Please."

My eyes flutter, completely shocked. He is my master. But what about Christine? I take a deep breath. However, this is something I've always wanted. I'll still, even if it may hurt terribly, make sure that Erik and Christine somehow end up together. I, with great trepidation and nervousness, shrug off the robe. It piles in silky ripples at my feet. Erik takes a moment to observe me. "We've met like this before, haven't we?"

He is full of surprising comments tonight.

"Except I was in some strange stupor," he continues.

"Yes." I confirm. "So you do remember me."

"I remember some blurry image that resembles you. Why did you lie?"

"For reasons beyond my control."

"You can clearly identify what emotion lies behind my eyes, and yet you still stay. I cannot understand your obedience. Lust is an intermittent emotion. Desire is an ever-consuming thing."

My throat feels condensed, but I must ask. "And what is it you desire?"

"You. But he only wishes to touch you. Erik, this vile skeleton, wishes to run his hands down your arms, across your pretty breasts. He wishes you would allow his fingers to follow the dents of your curves; to grab your hips. He would like your permission to discreetly brush a hand amongst those curls that peevishly cover the fruit that shall always be forbidden to him. And while Erik does these things, he wants to look at your face in order to see your expression: will there be fear? Or can a corpse bring heat to a living woman?" With each word in his speech, he sits further upright until we are nearly lip to lip. We stared at each other. Whenever I am human around him, my brazenness always surprises me. I was never this bold back home. I'm normally quite shy. Erik sits back against the tub. "Forgive Erik of his bold behavior, my dear. In these circumstances with you, he-I-tend to be rather...animalistic."

Animalistic indeed. I am completely flustered with heat. His sensual words kept digging themselves into my soul, bringing about my own desire. I gulp. Erik's eyes snap up at mine, suddenly looking very angry. His hand reaches up and snatches my throat. I gasp, and he brings my face down to his. "Forgive him, my dear, this senile beast!" He shakes my head. "Erik may appear to be a skeleton, but he has all the carnal desires that every man has. He is a man, too. Yet, you have the gall to look flustered and frightened!"

"I'm not frightened," I barely manage to choke out.

He sneers. "Qu'est-ce que vous avez dit?" He slightly loosens his hold on my neck.

"I'm not frightened, well, maybe a little, but only because of your anger. Also, this is so new to me."

"What's new?"

"Being complemented like that. Exposing my body to another man. It's all rather new for me. I am a virgin, remember?" Erik's hand loses its rough edge; his thumb begins to gently caress my cheek. "I was a little weary, but your words brought me...desire, sir." His thumb stops.

"Am I supposed to believe that?"

"Do you think I turn red like this just because I want to? If you were to touch me right now, I would not stop you." The last part is whispered as I become breathless. I mindlessly bring my leg up and around the edge of the tub, settling my foot opposite of his bare, wet thigh.

Erik considers me a moment before smirking. I give a small yelp as he picks me up and places me into the bath with him. "With your permission, I shall do a thorough investigation."

"Um…" I nod, almost choking on my own spit. Is this really happening?

Erik starts with my face. His eyes are glowing intensely, so mine automatically close because I know I would implode if I continue to look. His long, skeletal fingers caress along my forehead. These fingers, which are strong enough to choke me, are as delicate as a butterfly's wing now. Erik's fingers, which are not as cold as I was expecting them to be, flutter down to my cheek, across my jaw, trace amongst my lips, before ending at my ear. They travel to my neck and pause. His fingers rub up and down my neck, massaging the recently abused muscle before lowering his fingers to my collar bone. His nails tickle my skin as they follow the path of my bones from one shoulder to the other. Erik pauses here, and I can sense why: if he touches anywhere below here, our relationship-as sensitive and breakable as it is-will change forever. It's a boundary we haven't clearly breached nor discussed.

I reopen my eyes. His hand is shaking slightly. "Erik. We do not have to cross this boundary tonight. As much as we both want to right now. Patience is sometimes worth much more."

Erik licks his teeth, contemplating. He inhales and exhales. "It's as difficult to stop as it is to continue."

I lean forward, placing my folded arms on the edge of the tub. "Maybe we should take that as a sign. Maybe we should only continue when it becomes too torturous for us to stop."

Erik nods in resignation, but I do sense a slight irritation. Not towards me this time, but towards himself; a disappointment. I stand up, folding the robe into my arms. I grab his hand and rub my thumb across his palm, hoping to reassure him. I walk out the bathroom and lean against the closed door, releasing a big breath. Desire is still thrumming heavily over my body. My hands shake as my disjointed mind slowly comes to its senses. Maybe I should clean up a little? Ignore the piano, even if it may be a mess over there, and focus on the living room or the kitchen.

Now that my hormones have finally cooled down, I will admit that I am glad for Erik's hesitation. What was I thinking!? We hardly know each other; although, I know more about him than he knows about me. And now that he is actually a 4D character, not a constructed character from a book, I've got to realize that there must be more to him than what I've read.

And what happened earlier? Back at the alley with the girl and the group of boys? When I was actually desperate enough to make Erik stop choking him, my human voice came out. Why did the gypsy allow that?

There have been some other interesting developments as well. Like the pain. I've never felt pain like that when I have died before. Why is that? Is it because I am running lower on the number of lives I have left?

And, of course, the gypsy does not show up now to answer my questions.

Theories, conspiracies, and emotions swirl through my head, occasionally popping out of my mouth as I tidy up the kitchen. When I first started cleaning it, it was like a tornado went off in here. Now it looks like someone had a minor scuffle. I am scrubbing a few scrummy dishes-and there were only a few as Erik does not tend to eat a lot, but it was noticeable that these have been sitting out a while- when Erik pops out, wrapped in a robe that I did not realize he had. It is colorful, but not in a happy way as the colors matched his more gothic self. This robe is far grander than the one I robbed off his bed.

I'm turned away from him, but I know he is looking at me. I can feel his eyes burn my back.

"You don't have an appropriate dress to wear, you say?"

I jump, spinning around quickly, the dishes clink against each other. He is closer than I thought. "That's correct. Sir," I add, my nerves in shambles. I return to the dishes.

"Then I'll have to provide you with some new ones."

"You don't have to do that."

"I don't want you to have to keep borrowing my robe. You're much too beguiling in it, ma tentatrice. By the way," Erik begins circling me, eventually placing himself to my left side. I feel a slight tug on a strand of my hair. "I have just recalled that, since you are the figure I believed to have conjured, that you have already seen me without my epitome piece of clothing."

I blush. "Yes." Many, many times. More than you know.

Erik grabs my arm and forces me to look at him. My breath stops. Erik reaches back to untie the ribbon at the back of his head. He removes the mask and places it gently on the table beside him.

I am thankful that my previous revulsion has diminished to something so miniscule, it is pointless. My face is kept straight, and I stare at him back. Erik returns the challenge, as this is the challenge he wanted to present exactly.

As I look, I see that his face appears to have some grease leftover from the day. I guess even the dead sweat. "Did you have a chance to wash your face?"

Erik's eyes widen, suddenly taken aback. "No. I'm afraid I was disturbed before I could continue with my routine. And then I remained distracted. Is it that grotesque?" His upper lip curls.

"Did I say that?" I whisper. Then I continue, beseechingly, "Please don't put words in my mouth. I only notice that your face appears to be greasy."

Erik looks down, appearing ashamed; even embarrassed.

"May I wash your face?"

Erik's head jerks up. "Excusez-moi?" His home French leaks through again. He has been doing that a lot lately. "Did you really just say what I think you asked?"

"Oui," I nod.

"Why do you want to touch a gargoyle such as myself?" Erik raises a hand to his face as if to block himself from the situation. I grab it and clasp it between my own, bringing his (now) cold, skeletal fingers to my lips. Hot and cold merge for a moment before separating. I've never seen Erik look so stunned before.

"I'm not so perfect either, Erik. Why do you touch me?" I ask.

Erik shrugs, appearing as a lost child; innocent and vulnerable. "Because I desire it."

"Why can't my answer be the same as yours?" I ask rhetorically. "Because, in all earnest, it is just as simple."

Erik is at war with himself, shuffling between wanting to believe and disbelief. Then, as soft as a caress, I hear him relent. "Okay."

"Good. Take a seat. I'll grab a basin and some soap."

I am going to make you love yourself. I am going to make you more gentle and more caring. If I succeed, you may have a fighting chance to be with Christine.

Which also means I need to conceal my heart.