A/N: phantomann – Luckily, I am an early riser too! I am glad you like the story. I had planned to be far crueler in the last chapter – Christine fainting in the doorway as she heard Erik announce his engagement to another. Ah, but that might have been a bit predictable, and the more I thought about it, I didn't see any way to disentangle Erik from his engagement without him breaking his word – something he will never do in this story.

Okay readers, the M rating is for roughly the next 5 chapters. We are getting into the good stuff. This chapter, in fact, is one of my personal favorites. As I said before, I love wounded, dangerous, bitingly sarcastic Erik with a passion and he makes a grand entrance in this chapter. Christine seems to bring that out in him. Anyway, thanks for all the supportive comments and keep talking to me! I will post three chapters now and two more tonight for those who are interested.

Ch. 27 – Tale of the Siren

Unaware of the dark figure moving towards her, Christine stood lost in her surroundings for some time. Presently, with a skip of her heart, she remembered what she had come for and began to look around the room seeking the face of her Angel. He would be easy to pick out both by his unusual height and by the white shadow of his mask. Her dark eyes scanned the crowd, but she did not see him. Disappointed, she took the glass of champagne that was offered to her and began to sip it, content for the moment to wait for his return. After three long years, a few more moments seemed insignificant.

She noticed presently a doorway at the side of the ballroom that opened into a grand hallway. Curious, she stepped into it, enchanted by the exquisite works of art displayed on its walls. She knew her Angel must have chosen them, and once again she stood in awe of his unbelievable taste.

One painting in particular drew her attention. She set her glass down on the hall table to her left and leaned closer to get a better look. It depicted a hauntingly beautiful woman who appeared to be singing. A handsome young man was seated at her feet, staring at her as if enthralled by her voice. She smiled at the romantic image, and did not hear the soft click of the lock on the hallway doors as they closed behind her.

A soft, lazy voice whispered very close to her ear, "Do not be fooled, milady, for that lovesick boy will pay dearly for the beauty of her song. Have you never heard the story of the Siren? It is a tale that I am certain you would appreciate."

Christine stood frozen. That voice. She would have known its hypnotic sensuality anywhere. She could feel the heat of his breath on her ear, and the warmth of him behind her made her vaguely dizzy. Every nerve ending came alive, awakening to the undeniable current of electricity between them. Her body screamed at his closeness. She wanted to turn and throw herself into his arms, but the danger in his voice held her still.

He did not move from behind her, but his fingers trailed impudently from her ear and along the line of her neck, coming to rest around her throat - caressing, threatening, challenging.

The touch of his hand ignited her skin. She was trembling, her body yielding as it always had under his touch. She knew without seeing that he was enjoying immensely the control he still had over her. With one hand never leaving her throat, his other slid across her rib cage and down to her waist, his thumb brushing tauntingly just below the lower curve of her breast. He laid his palm against the flat of her stomach, and without releasing pressure, moved it seductively over her hip and halfway down her outer thigh before bringing it back to repeat its journey, continuing his delicious torment.

His voice caressed her ear once again, "You see the Siren was a mythical creature that had all the beauty of heaven and the voice of an angel. When she would sing, men would flock to her, willing to give their very lives for but a taste of her lips and the thrill of her song." His hands became steadily bolder, increasing their pressure, widening their exploration. Christine felt her blood turn to liquid fire.

Her eyes closed, the magic of his voice continued its seduction, "Ah, but the Siren held a secret. Her song was but a tool, her kiss but a trap. For you see when her unsuspecting suitor drew forward to claim his prize, her beauty evaporated revealing a hideous monster underneath, a monster who would devour his flesh in the most painful and gruesome of fates." Christine's eyes flew open, and her blood suddenly ran cold as she realized the meaning behind his story.

Erik felt her tense and his light caress turned instantly to a grip of iron, holding her immobile. There was undisguised menace in his voice now, and it dropped to a chilling whisper, "Of course, even in their anguish it was said that her victims still cried out, begging for her song, for her kiss - even as they were being consumed. Ironic, don't you think that such beauty can blind us to the monster that lies within?" Christine's heart was beating wildly now, but she waited silently and did not struggle.

She understood somehow that this was his punishment for her betrayal, for the anguish she had caused him. He believed her to be like the Siren – using her beauty and voice to manipulate and break him. He was testing her, to see if she would once again run from his anger and desire. Subconsciously, she knew that he needed to see her submission, needed to see she was not a threat before he could bear to make himself vulnerable to her again. Thus, she stood silent and unflinching before his barely contained rage.

Behind her, Erik was struggling mightily between that very same rage and his own overwhelming desire. He had meant to punish her through his brazen seduction, but unfortunately he had been unable to do so without feeling its effects himself. He could smell the intoxicating scent of her hair, could feel the softness of her body, yielding and inviting beneath his irreverent hands. He felt driven to the brink of insanity by his need for her. But the anguish of his memories would not let him give in so easily, and in the end, his anger won out.

He grabbed her wrist roughly and spun her around to face him. Despite her fear, her eyes devoured him, widening when her unconcealed exploration took in the completeness of his face. Still, she did not speak.

Looking down into her sweet, desire-clouded face, he was confused by her reaction to him. She had not cried, nor screamed. Indeed, she had not fought him at all, which was very unlike her. And now, she seemed to be eyeing him with the same hungry desperation with which he was looking at her.

Steeling himself against her charms, he purred into her ear, "I'm afraid you have much to explain, my dear. You won't be rejoining the party this evening." With that, he opened a door in the hall and thrust her inside. "Wait here." It was a command, not a request. The door slammed behind him and Christine found herself alone and trembling in an enormous library.