Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Phantom of the Opera. There are days I wish I did. Angelina and some of the other characters that are in here I own. The Phantom in this story is based after the one in the movie. The portrayal in that movie was unbelievable. I hope you all enjoy it and I would love to have reviews and comments. Enjoy!

A/N: Thank you to all who are posting comments! It is much appreciated. I hope that you will enjoy this chapter. I would love to hear your comments and concerns about this chapter. Enjoy it and I will update soon!

Chapter 7 – Unknown Senses

Music surrounded her, protecting her from the world. She felt it. It played in her mind; capturing every sense and making them come alive. It was hot. It was cold. It was loud. It was silent. How could music do this to her? How could it disturb the very fiber of her being?

Her eyes fluttered open, slowly. Everything around her was blurry, at first. As her vision cleared, she saw she was in a bed, painted in gold and surrounded by angels on the posts of the bed. The satin sheets, against her skin, made it feel as if there was nothing covering her.

Slowly sitting up, she continued to look at the surroundings. Although rock surrounded her, it didn't feel as though she was in a cave but a well laid out bedroom. There was no expense spared. Everything was exquisite and grand. From the large four poster bed to the large dresser that accompanied it.

As she placed her feet on the ground, she could see a plush carpet – blood red. Everything around her was dark – deep purples, blood reds, and black. It was sensual yet scary. Her exploration of the room stopped once she noticed that the music was not a dream.

Angelina took a few steps, noticing the nausea was not taking over her. The music was leading her, guiding her. She found her way to the doorway and peered out. The sight before her was unlike anything she had ever seen.

The corridors paled in comparison to what was before her. Candle operas were everywhere, every candle lit. The glow was beautiful, golden in color. A lake was in the middle of the large room, fog just laying over it like a mist. A small boat was docked near the shore. Sheet music, drawings, models were scattered everywhere. A small room was off to the side, shrouded by a large blood red velvet curtain.

It was what was off to the right of the staircase that led her down from the room that astounded her the most – a large organ. Candles surrounded it, illuminating it and making it that much more grand. The music was sensual and hypnotic. Angelina could not remember the last time that something so simple could make her feel the way she did now.

As she was about to approach the organ, she noticed a figure sitting at it. He seemed to be writing on sheet music, playing the tune and taking notes as he went. His black robe complimented the surroundings.

Thinking her presence wasn't felt, Angelina continued toward the organ…

He sat there, playing his organ for the first time in years. It was like second nature, as if he had never stopped playing. The tune came to him, as if from a dream. His hands couldn't seem to keep up with what was haunting him, consuming him. His fingers glided over the keys, possessed by some force that was unknown to him.

The music echoed throughout the room. It filled some need that had been lying dormant in his soul. She had brought it to the surface. Just the mere sight of her sent every sense that he possessed into chaos. A fire raged inside of him, needing to be extinguished.

He had played for hours, writing music like he never had before. Inspiration was few and far between and he claimed the opportunity without resistance. He had thought it was his heart when he heard the thud echo throughout the room. Noticing it wasn't, he quickly got up and crossed the lake and climbed the winding staircase.

The sight before him claimed every last piece of resistance he had within his soul. Angelina. Lying atop the staircase, Angelina's arm hung over the first step, blood on her hand. He quickly rushed to her side and noticed that the wound he had mended, only hours before, had begun to bleed once again.

Gently picking her up, as he once did with Christine, he carried her down the winding staircase and across the river into his home. If this is what you call a home.

He continued up the small staircase, entering his private domain. Laying her upon the bed, he noted the angelic look upon her face. Without wasting any time, he tended to her wound – stopping the bleeding and again bandaging it. He gently covered her with the sheets and watched her sleep for a few moments before returning back to his organ.

It had only been a few hours before he could feel her waking. His senses had now tuned into hers. He could feel her eyes open and become curious about her surroundings. She gently touched the bed post, ready to support herself if the need arose. Knowing that she was awake, he began to play the music he had just written. This time, he played it differently: sensually and hypnotic.

He felt her step from the confines of his room and out onto the balcony. He smiled as he felt her look around the room and marvel at what lied before her. Just like her mother. Sensing she thought he was not aware of her being awake, she began to approach him. He began to play harder, faster.

She finally reached him, her body close to his. He could feel her breathing, her breath hot on his neck. He was about to turn when her hand reached for his mask. He stopped – cold. No! Not again! Before he could reach his hand out to stop her, she slowly slid her hand down from his mask and down to his hands on the organ. The move had not meant to be sensual but it sent his senses and mind screaming. One touch had knocked him from reality to the brinks of madness. Her touch was light as a feather and as warm as he could have ever imagined. He could not remember Christine being like this.

Looking at her, curiously, she sat beside him. She did not look at him but instead quickly began playing in tune with him. He watched her as her hands and fingers danced over the keys on the organ. He could hardly hide his excitement. She possesses more talents then anyone could have ever imagined.

He let his hands slide from the organ and watched her play the piece she did not know. The song not completed, he watched as the last note he wrote, played. She continued on, a melody not yet written but knew was written in his soul. After playing more then her fair share of the song, she stopped and slowly removed her hands from the organ.

His gaze never left her and he watched as she slowly sat up straight. She did not look at him but kept looking at the music in front of her.

"You are talented, Ms. Chagny."

Her eyes widened at the sound of his voice. Her eyes finally met his and what he saw was beautiful. Her eyes were as blue as the lake and her smile as bright as the sun. She is the image of an angel.

He slowly stood, the robe billowing around him. Her eyes never let go of his. Both of their hearts seemed to beat in time with one another – racing beyond their control.

He spoke again. "You asked for a teacher – I have come."