Erik

I'm standing behind the mirror waiting for Christine to return from the first day of rehearsal for Il Muto. I won't risk entering her dressing room until she comes in and locks the door. She enters like a whirlwind, slamming the door and wrenching the key in the lock. She shrieks in frustration and stomps back and forth across the room with her fists clenched. I'm so shocked by the uncharacteristic behavior that for a moment I just stand frozen and watch her. She turns towards the mirror. "Erik, are you there?"

I step out and she throws herself into my arms. "Christine?"

"Carlotta," she fumes. "The nasty woman. The managers asked me to play the part of the pageboy in order to keep her happy. Carlotta kept making snide remarks during rehearsal, saying my performance in Hannibal must have been greatly exaggerated if I'm now in a silent role. She knows they only did it so she would come back! She mocked me about everything, my appearance, my voice, my stage presence. It was humiliating."

I'm seething at this point. I wrote to the new managers and told them quite plainly that Christine was to play the Countess and Carlotta was to play the pageboy. They have defied me! Not only that, but the strutting peacock has upset Christine. Very well, if it's a war they want, I'm happy to oblige.

I stroke Christine's hair and tilt her face up to mine. "Don't worry about it, my love. Everything will come out right in the end. Do you believe me?" I can't tell her that I will be the one orchestrating it, she still does not suspect that I'm the Opera Ghost. I know it can't be long before she makes the connection, but for now I'll keep that little tidbit to myself.

She smiles at me through her tears and nods. I gently wipe the tears away with my thumbs and kiss her. I tease the seam of her lips with my tongue and she opens for me. The swirl of her tongue against mine sets me on fire. For months I've dreamed of just touching her, holding her. Never in my wildest dreams did I think we'd be sharing warm, deep kisses. Christine presses herself against me and I allow my hands to wander up and down her back, into her hair and across her shoulders. Her breathing becomes rapid and I pull away. If this continues, I'll lose myself completely. She frowns up at me. I force my own breathing to steady. "Christine, your lesson."

She sticks her bottom lip out in a most alluring pout. "I wasn't done kissing you."

For a moment I don't know how to respond. My body is rebelling against me, all I want to do is take her back into my arms. "Christine," I say sternly, "it is time for your lesson. Scales, now."

She sighs and obediently begins her warm-up.

I relax as she begins singing. I don't know what I would have done if she had flatly refused. As The Angel of Music, I had no trouble whatsoever maintaining my strict persona. Now I would like nothing more than to pamper and spoil Christine.

She doesn't hit a pitch just right, but before I can correct her she huffs in frustration and begins the scale again.

I nod. "Good girl." She gets the pitch perfect this time. "Now decrescendo to pianissimo," I command. "Crescendo to fortissimo."

Christine continues her lesson and executes every instruction I give her flawlessly. "What shall it be then, my dear?" I ask, continuing the tradition of rewarding her for an excellent lesson by allowing her to choose a song for me to sing. Sometimes she chooses a solo, sometimes a duet. Tonight she chooses a solo. As I sing she becomes just as enraptured as the night I led her through the bowels of the opera. When I finish she sighs blissfully.

"Oh, Erik, you might be a man, but you still have the voice of an angel."

She walks over and wraps her arms around my waist. Her expression is one of absolute contentment as she gazes up at me. I tilt her head up further and claim her mouth. She clutches my shirt as her breathing grows ragged. I place a hand in the small of her back and pull her flush against me. When she moans into my mouth I gasp and pull away. If I don't stop now, I'm going to try to take more than she's ready to give.

"Goodnight, Christine."

I turn towards the mirror.

"No!" She grabs my shirt sleeve. "Please stay with me."

I glance over at her bed. It's small, but will accommodate us both. I'd love nothing more than to stay here all night with Christine in my arms, it's too soon however. Christine is really still a child in so many ways. I need to take things slowly.

I turn back to her prepared to say no, but the pleading look in her eyes steals my breath. "Please, Erik. I was only ever able to sleep soundly when I knew the Angel was watching over me."

That lovely pout is back and I feel my resolve crumble. "Alright."

A/N: Thank you all for reading and for the favorites and follows. :)