A/N: Wow! Several reviews! Thank you so much, and as I promised there is Erik in this chapter! So you can all be happy now!
Thanks to Cyber-Eyes (who's changed her name to something I can't remember) for offering to beta this story…if I ever get the time I will send it to you!
Chapter 5
Or a Man?
I pushed my way through the crowded streets of Paris, my hands laden down with several overstuffed bags and one very crumpled piece of paper. My hood of my cloak was pulled up over my head, protecting me from the cold northern wind that plagued Paris at this time of the year.
I stumbled on a cobblestone, nearly loosing my parcels that contained a various assortment of things that O.G had instructed me to retrieve. I immediately regained my balanced and began moving on quicker, as the sun was beginning to set behind the buildings and shadows were beginning to form under the roof tops, creeping their dark fingers across the streets. I had not been out on the streets of Paris since that night…no, I could not think about that now! Not now!
As I walked up the street, my arms aching from carrying three parcels of lined music paper, several bottles of ink, and a number of other musically inclined instruments, I wondered why anyone would need these items. I knew most of the song writers at the Opera Populaire and it always appeared that they had a great stack of ink and staffed paper near them.
I approached the square that held the Opera Populaire and walked up the stairs quickly and into the grand foyer which was filled with the cleaning maids and several guards standing near the doors. Though besides them, it was empty, the managers were away in their office or perhaps wandering around backstage, checking on the various going-ons. I scaled the grand staircase quickly, my feet echoing on the marble flooring of the stairs.
I walked down another hallway that bypassed me by the stage; where some late reversals for a new production were happening and down several winding corridors before reaching the wooden doorway that led to my room.
I fumbled around with the parcels, trying to get the key into the lock. Eventually I did and the door swung open, I bustled inside, dropping all my parcels on the bed in a giant heap when I heard a voice from behind me say:
"Is that any way to be treating my goods?"
I froze. I didn't want to turn around, who knew who was behind me? My back went ridged and my mouth formed the words, "Midnight…"
"Yes, I know, it was midnight…but I couldn't leave you with these large boxes troubling you all afternoon," he said again as I stood mesmerized by the sound of his voice. It was a deep, rich and seductive sound that encircled my entire body.
I heard him stand from where he must have been sitting in one of my chairs, his feet treaded across the wooden floor, with slow, deliberate steps. I couldn't move, it seemed, and I felt frozen. His voice scared me, making me want to flee my room, yet it also made me want to stay, to hear its rich sound again in my ears.
He was closer now; I could hear his even breathing in the back of my ears. He moved forward, and for once I didn't skirt away from a man's presence. I could feel his elegance radiating from his body – his dark power consuming me. I felt as if I was drowning in his very presence.
Slowly, I felt the warmness of his hand on my hips, as he slid his arm down my leg. I didn't pull away, I just staid still, the sounds of our breathing the only sounds breaking the intense silence. I felt his warm breath against the back of my neck, the warmness sent shivers down my spine.
I leaned into his seductive grasp, as he sighed in satisfaction and pulled me closer, against what I deemed to be a strong chest. A hand ran through my hair and try as I might, I could not turn around to face him. I sighed happily in the intoxication of having such a powerful figure standing behind me.
Though as quickly as he had come he was gone in a swirl of darkness and all of the parcels on the bed disappeared and I was left alone again.
Almost at once my body began to shake with fear; I had allowed this man to touch me like no man had done before! He now knew that I was vulnerable to him and he could now seek to control me! I shuddered at the thought, though at the same time I remembered the ecstasy of having such a strong figuring running his hand along my leg.
I remembered the warm gentleness of his hands, the warmth that radiated through my body when he touched my back. The softness of his hand in my tangled, hair sent warm shivers through my body. The velvet, rich sound of his deep voice still echoed throughout the caverns of my mind.
It was then that I realized that I had to find out who this mysterious man was, this man who could disappear from a room in a blink of an eye, this man who created such a feeling of intoxication that you could drown in it!
It was late the next afternoon and I was bustling down a long hallway, a heavy script in one hand and my pair of reading glasses in the other. The day had been a long hard one, most of the ballet dancers and stage hands had been in a rotten mood, which had therefore changed my mood from good to bad. My hair was crinkled and tangled, my dress wrinkled and my face sweaty from walking at a steaming pace all day.
I turned around another corner, relieved at finding Sorelli's dressing quarters finally. I knocked on the door lightly, and instead of Sorelli opening it a little ballet rat opened it for me. "I need to see Sorelli," I stated, frowning down at the little girl.
"Of course you need to see Sorelli," she repeated, her eyes cross in her shallow face, "Why else would you be here?" She asked impatiently, not opening the door anymore than a mere crack.
"Can I speak to her?" I asked, my patience growing thin.
"She's busy," the girl said and with that the door slammed shut on my face.
I stood there for a moment, looking at the shut door with pure rage, my arms shaking beside me. I absolutely loathed those little ballet rats, the ones who were all too caught up in their own ego that they hardly cared about anyone else! I decided that if Sorelli missed her cue, I would blame it simply on the fact that one of the girls shut the door on my face, so I could not relay my message.
Still fuming, I walked down the corridor, my hands clamped tightly against my sides, my feet heavy with anger. I fumed like this for several hallways, not caring about where I was going when I suddenly stopped, unaware of my position.
I had come into a rather dark hallway, the only source of light coming from a small oil lantern that I had been holding. I looked around, now upset with myself for behaving in such a childish manner.
"Lost, are we, Mademoiselle Cara?" A voice said from the shadows.
I whirled around, finding myself looking at the side profile of a man, leaning against the wall. He must have been tall, as even in his slouching position he was at least a head tall of me. The side of the face facing me was handsome, with a highly boned, clean-shaven face. His lips were curved into a sensual smirk that lit up the fine blue color of his eyes, that I now noticed were speckled with droplets of gold.
I was too surprised to speak, my mouth hung slightly open and I imagined that my eyes must have been bulging from my head in surprise. In response to my silence he stood up to his full height, which must have been at least two heads taller than me. His eyes were glowing a strange color in the lamp light, making him seem angelic, yet at the same time demonic.
I now noticed that the right half of his face was covered in a cold, white mask. It was a stark contrast to the other half of his face, which was shaped perfectly. It loomed over me, like the devil would over his fresh new soul.
I felt myself quivering in fear as one leather clad hand reached out to grasp my own. His touch sent heat radiating through my cold body, and I once again shivered with delight at the softness of his large hand in mine own small one. I looked up at his face, seeing the mask and the unmasked side of his face, trying to find any sign of emotions. Though his face was set into an unreadable expression; cold and thoughtless like a murderer.
He began to walk away from, his hand still grasped in my own, like he was expecting me to follow him. I stood rooted to the spot, refusing to move. He turned around the unmasked side of his face changing into a sensual smirk as he said:
"Do not be afraid, mademoiselle Cara,"
I gasped, the sound, it seemed, echoed throughout the hallway. I recognized that voice, the rich, velvet sound! How could I have ever forgotten it! Then that suit – it looked to be the exact one that I picked out for…
This man standing in front of me was the Phantom of the Opera!
Do you think that I captured the Phantom well? Please tell me in a review! Constructive critiscm is welcome!
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