VIII. Sweet Seduction
"You need some sleep", Meg insisted stubbornly. "I know you do."
"I don't", the Phantom said coldly.
He was being irrational. Did he really think that admitting he was tired was showing weakness? And after what she and the others had seen, after rescuing him from his enemies' clutches, was he still unwilling to admit weakness? There was no reason – except his pride.
Curse his pride. "Everybody has to sleep", Meg explained patiently, her hand still resting on his shoulder, feeling the rough fabric of his linen shirt. Carefully, she shifted it slightly, tracing the outline of his collarbone.
He gave a derisive snort. "If you want to fondle me, then don't look for excuses. Just goddamn do it. Hell knows I could use some distraction right now."
Immediately Meg withdrew her hand, feeling the blush rising in her cheeks. Raoul had complained about the Phantom having no manners, and she now found that she could see his point. No manners indeed! "If you want to be snuggled, then you might at least ask nicely", she said haughtily. "But if you're after pawing, I'm afraid you'll have to find yourself somebody else."
At once he was on his feet, and Meg was surprised at how quickly he could walk around the sofa, and how soon he was standing right opposite her, facing her. His eyes were pools of frozen fire. "I usually find", he said softly, "that I get what I want."
Meg wanted to give him an angry reply, yet it was difficult to keep her thoughts together when he was so close, radiating more heat than the fire, which was burning down in the open fireplace, shimmering off his mask. With the shadows playing on his features, he looked absolutely stunning.
Christine might really have warned her about this.
But on the other hand, she had seen him before tonight. She should be prepared by now.
His knowing little grin made her fingers itch to slap him, at the same time as become tangled in his hair. Heavens, he was too good-looking to be allowed, and she could have kicked him for it!
She wanted to throw a snappish remark at him, just anything that came to her mind, but she never had the chance, for he chose to kiss her at precisely that moment. At first she wanted to kick him in the shin to make him let her go, but all her resistance dissolved into nothingness as he pulled her close, and all she really wanted to and could do was answering his kiss. Occasionally she would brush against the edge of his mask, right above his upper lip, as he shifted his head against her, a clear reminder of who he was, but for now, she did not care. Letting one hand slowly travel up along his spine, she enjoyed with closed eyes how he nibbled her lower lip and tugged at it gently with his teeth, only to let their lips meet again a moment later. Her other arm lay around his waist for support, clinging to him in order to stay upright and not to swoon with pleasure.
When they broke apart, they were both breathless, and Meg rested her head against him as he fought for air, feeling the heaving of his chest. "Where did you learn that?" she muttered. Surely he couldn't have been just acting on instinct?
His chuckle made his ribcage vibrate for a moment under her cheek. "From Christine, I assume."
From Christine? It was difficult imagining her friend doing something as forward as kissing anyone, let alone the Phantom. Well, she would certainly have kissed Raoul a few times until now, but the Phantom… What had those two been doing down in the cellars? At once Meg felt a twinge of jealousy towards her friend. While she herself had never had as much as a simple, common suitor, there were two men absolutely devoted to Christine, two who would doubtlessly die for her without hesitation. It was hardly fair.
And since Christine could not possibly keep both of them to herself, it would be only right if one of them was left for Meg.
Meg knew it was not that easy, though. She knew that the situation had been far from pleasant for her friend, just as far as the Phantom was from any regular suitor.
What if it had not been for Raoul? Meg wondered. Would Christine have accepted the Phantom, then? It was certainly difficult to resist someone who could trace the outlines of one's lips with the tip of his tongue in such a seductive way…
No, she was just far too taken with him, she scolded herself, mooning over him when there were more sensible things to do. Her mother would never approve, especially not of her in his arms, snuggling against him, and in nothing more than a nightshirt borrowed from Christine.
But there was no need for her mother to find out.
He was stroking her hair, threading his fingers into it, and she reached up to tangle her own in the soft curls at the back of his head. His hair was dishevelled and untidy, but still felt astoundingly silky.
There was nothing wrong with being taken with him. Just a little bit.
"Did I give you any reason to trust me?" he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.
"My mother does", she answered, "and so does Christine."
She felt him stiffen and immediately knew that mentioning her friend had been a mistake. "Oh, does she?" he growled, his voice at once throaty and rough.
"Well… she…" Meg hesitated. The truth was that she didn't know. It was hard to tell, even from what she had heard from Christine. "In a way", she replied finally. "Because… I don't know. But she still calls you Angel sometimes." Probably accidentally, but no need to mention that.
Strangely, this did not seem to have the desired effect at all. Instead of relaxing, it rather appeared to her that he tensed even more. Why would he? She did not understand. "And it was her who guided us when we…" When we saved you, she had meant to say, but he would not like to hear it put like that, although it was true. "When we found you", she finished instead. "Well, most of the time."
"Most of the time?" he repeated. "What about the rest, then?"
"Me", she whispered simply, caressing his back. Why did he have to be so tense all the time? He was being held; what more did he want? Well, be held by Christine, probably. It gave her a little stab of jealousy.
"You? How?"
"Because I happened to know the secret passage leading to that room Christine described", she explained. Heavens, why couldn't he just relax? Meg had to struggle hard against a growing urge to poke him. "Christine had some kind of… vision, something like that. I don't know. Anyway, she described this place, and I knew where it was, because I'd been there when first seeing those eyes… that man Lionel." She shuddered slightly at the memory, and he pulled her closer. At least that. "So I led the way to the entrance." He seemed slightly less tense now, but only slightly. "You know about that vision thing, don't you?"
At first she thought that he would not answer, but then he said, his voice almost inaudible, "It is a kind of mental connection. It seemed that I was… weakened enough for her to… dominate it so much that she could see through my eyes for a moment."
Resuming her caress, Meg was surprised that he would admit that much. He had asked her if she had any reason to trust him, but now she wondered what reason exactly he had to trust her. Because she had helped Christine to rescue him, or because of her mother, or for some other reason? She could not be sure.
And she could not be sure if he really trusted her at all, of course.
As she wrapped her arms around him tighter, enjoying his warmth, he winced, and she let go immediately. "What is it?"
"Nothing", he murmured dismissively, pulling her back into his arms.
But she insisted. "Did I hurt you or something?" Or was he just being complicated again?
"No… It's just a bruise, that's all. Nothing serious."
Of course. She had seen them, after all, the signs of his treatment among those who now occupied the cellars. "You need someone to clean those cuts", she said. There was not much she would be able to do about it, yet she would do what she could. After all, he was a friend – or at least she wanted him to be one.
And the mere idea of touching his bare skin sent an indecently tingly feeling through her body.
"I've taken care of this", he declined, just like Christine had predicted earlier on. "But thank you."
"And you should really get some sleep", she continued her ministrations. Did he want to stay awake all night, or what? "You're safe here."
He sighed softly, but did not answer.
"Now listen here", Meg suggested, feeling the blush creep onto her cheeks, "my bed is quite spacious actually, and I thought you might…well… Don't get me wrong, I'm not after anything… improper… it's just…" Drawing a deep breath, she told him the truth. "I'm afraid, and I can't sleep because I see that man's eye in the shadows everywhere, staring at me, and… if you say no now, I'll just stay with you down here and sleep on the sofa, and I'll force you to hold my hand", she finished determinedly. Most men she knew had the habit of being protective towards women, and this particular one very much so. "Please?"
He chuckled into her hair softly, making her want to pinch him, but only a little bit, because she was so glad for his company. "Aren't you a bit too old for this, little one?" he teased her.
"No", she said firmly, poking him in the ribs, but carefully avoiding the place where he seemed to be so badly bruised.
"And what exactly makes you think that I'm a virtuous man?" She did not see his face, but the broad grin was evident in his voice.
"Because Christine says you've never taken advantage of her. Not even when you let her sleep in your bed."
Loosening her grip on him, he kissed her brow gently. "She is right, of course."
