Disclaimer: I don't own this SPLENDERIFICNESS!
A/N: This chapter, because I feel like it, is going to be in present tense…don't ask! I don't know why, I'm sorry if it makes some of you angry, since the rest of the story will continue to be in past tense. High PG-13 for romance. Reviewers: I LOVE ALL OF YOU! Oh, and about the romance, please tell me if I didn't write it properly, I tried my best!
Pinkichigomewmew: I rather like the fact that Raoul is dead too, it leaves so many more options left for me to work with. I am back for as long as I can be!
A.K: Hehe, it's ok. O.o I'm always insane! A little insanity is fun every now and then.
LittleLottie1991: I try!
Chapter Nine
Passionate Memories
A month has passed since Christine spent her first night in Erik's sanctuary. Outside, leaves the colour of spun gold fall from trees, decorating the ground with their worthless brilliance. The branches, once thick with green leaves, now succumb to the cold, their thin limbs shaking violently in the breeze.
Inside Erik's home suppressed passion thickens the air. Christine can sense it disguising itself as the shiver that runs down her spine each time she gazes upon the man she has come to love. Love. That man, with his impossibly powerful aurora, her Angel.
Erik has grown distant in his attempt to control himself around Christine. Just the sight of her hair flowing across her back makes him wild, and so he goes about his days, staying as far away from her as he can. At odd times she will stare at him with her cool brown eyes, as if challenging him to a duel he would most definitely loose.
As summer's last warm rays disappear, so does Christine's patience for Erik's behavior. A whole month has gone by, thirty moons, thirty suns and still all she has to dream about are the events which have not conspired yet and the few shared kisses, and of course, memories of that night not so long ago…
"No Christine. I...I will not allow myself to hurt you..." He trailed off, not able to continue. His eyes were an open window to his tortured soul. He had waited years for this moment, had fantasized about it nearly every night, and now, as Christine lay before him, he was denying both of them.
"I'm not a virgin Erik." She gazed levelly at him as her mind began to secretly berate her for reminding him of Raoul.
He cringed, "I'm not afraid of that."
"Then what are you afraid of?"
"Let's not argue. You will understand in time."
As those words left his parted lips, Christine let out a sharp cry filled with unmasked horror. "You listened?" Her longing melted away to coldness.
"Yes." He admitted with downcast eyes. "I was foolish enough to believe that you were mine with the entirety of your heart and soul. When I heard you with Raoul I knew it wasn't true…and as furious as I was, it intrigued me, how a woman could feel for two men so differently. I tried many a time to turn away, to flee back into the solitude of my music, yet I couldn't." He glanced up at her, ashamed of the tears shining in his emerald eyes.
Christine wasn't crying nor was she fuming. With delicate steps she advanced towards him, never taking her eyes off of him. Closer, closer she came until her lips claimed his.
Erik reacted immediately, he could feel the burning sensation course through his entire being as she kissed him as she had not done for two years. He didn't close his eyes; instead he watched Christine respond as he deepened the kiss and pulled her forcefully against him as tightly as their bodies would allow. He could feel her heart pounding against his chest as his fingers found the lacings of her corset, hidden beneath the soft silk dress she wore and lazily began to untie them, one by one until it fell from her body. He could hear her sharp intake of breath as his hands spread across her back, and finally, he could smell the faint scent of jasmine that lingered upon her skin from her bath the night before.
"Erik." His name was spoken shakily as Christine pressed her hips into his. He groaned into her neck as two very different reactions ran through his mind.
No! You can't do this, not yet!
The other, which he feared more than the first, overpowered him for the time being. With a low moan, he picked her up, never separating their screaming bodies, and led her to the bed.
In a quick motion she was lying under him, her legs spread slightly, her back arched to bring her closer to him.
It was then when he gained control, his mind had won. The one moment Erik had been dreaming about and waiting for was playing out right in front of him, yet something was wrong…He lifted himself off of her. Christine raised up on her elbows, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. "Erik?"
"Not like this." He said, "Please understand. I can't do it right now, just not like this." And she did understand.
"Whenever you're ready Erik, just say the word." As she left the room, she steadied his doubt with a shy smile.
"Christine?" Erik was behind her as she turns around, shaking her head of the passionate memory.
"Yes?" Her hands fly to her flushed cheeks.
If Erik noticed he doesn't let on. "I just came to tell you that I wish for you to begin singing once more."
A smile lights up her face immediately. "Really? Erik, you'll teach me again?" Familiar feelings bubble up inside of her and lighten her mood from the inside out.
"You need to continue your tutoring." He says sensibly. "We will continue first thing tomorrow morning with music from Don Juan Triumphant."
"Don Juan? Why?"
"It is the music you are most familiar with. Once you master it we shall move onto other works." He reasons, stony faced as if the painful memories from that night no longer affect him.
She simply nods and watches him as he leaves her.
Christine hurries to the kitchen, a light skip apparent in her step, humming the tune from Past the Point of No Return as she cuts the vegetables.
In a few precious hours she will be at the mercy of Erik's patience, a thought that excites her more than it scares her. As it is of no consequence, she begins to sing as she attends to the steaming rice.
"You have brought me to that moment where words run dry, to that moment where speech disappears into silence, silence . . ." Her voice falters at first, her vocal chords not quite strong enough after all this time to handle such strain. She stops promptly, embarrassed at how her voice has weakened. Shaking her head at her own failure, she continues on with silence, counting down the seconds until her Angel will become her tutor once more.
