I now present what's possibly the most intense chapter I have ever written.

lol.

Nico

Erik half pulled, half led Christine through the various twists and turns that led to his home.

She was frightened; that much was obvious. Where she had been unconscious during her previous descent, she was wide awake now, her mouth parted slightly at the sights she beheld, all enhanced by Erik's mastery of slight of hand.

Erik had to admit that it was quite exhilarating to finally share with someone the small yet spectacular touches he had added to the dank, narrow passageways beneath the Opera Populaire. He smiled slightly as Christine jumped back from candelabra that lit as if by magic, knowing that it was he who had activated the small line of gas that fed the flickering flames. He caught a glimpse of her as they passed a wall of mirrors, each reflecting a warped, distorted image of the onlooker. He nearly laughed when she let out a scream of fright as heavy stone barriers fell behind them, blocking intruders with a simple, unseen pulley system.

Finally, when they came to the boat at the edge of the lake, he turned to look at her in the eyes, slightly disappointed that they still held glistening evidence of fear.

But that was what he wanted, wasn't it?

For her to fear him?

He cleared his throat, offering her his hand to help her into the boat.

Christine walked slowly towards him, the mysticism and enchantment of her surroundings effectively rendering her awestruck.

She placed her hand in his, in taking a breath softly as his hands suddenly found her waist, lifting her effortlessly into the small, sturdy boat.

He followed wordlessly, barely creating a wave upon entering the boat.

Christine sat before him, her body cushioned by the pillows resting in the bottom of the boat. He was focused on his smooth maneuvering of the vessel rather than on her, so for the first time Christine was able to study him.

He was quite handsome, Christine realized with a blush as she gazed up at the strong line of his jaw, the thick, wavy black hair that was slicked fashionably from his forehead, coming to rest just before his shoulders.

As he rowed, Christine noticed the thick muscles of his chest and arms as they flexed beneath the silk of his shirt with the movement of the guiding rod. His legs were braced on the floor of the boat as if he was a mighty captain, built for sea life. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine him on the bow of some great ship, his skin bronzed and his hair carrying kisses from the sun.

But as her eyes rose back up the long lines of his body, she realized that not all of his skin would be bronzed.

The mask looked as if it had been molded to his face; it was almost more human than the blazing eyes behind it.

The disfigurement of his face was horrific; she had seen it for only a moment but would remember it always…but when compared to the rest of his overwhelming beauty, it no longer seemed so devastating…

Christine couldn't help but think that the Devil must have been jealous of God's perfect creation, deciding to mar Erik's splendor with the terrible scars that he bore now.

It seemed, to Christine, a horrible punishment.

She felt the boat slowly scrape land. Looking over her shoulder, she stared in amazement once more. Although she had been here before, the extravagance…the decadence of the makeshift home still managed to steal her breath and leave her speechless.

Erik exited first, landing like a cat on the shore, lifting Christine slowly to join him.

She couldn't help but notice he allowed their bodies to touch for a moment longer than was necessary.

Once her feet were on the ground, Erik regarded her for a moment. He looked as if he wanted to speak, but instead ran a hand through his hand and went immediately over to the piano. Christine watched, bewildered, as he began to play, all at once losing himself in the throws of the chords he produced.

It was as if he had forgotten she was there.

And suddenly, Christine felt incredibly jealous.

Of the music!

Without thinking, she moved closer to the edge of the piano. She recognized the tune he was playing; it was the main aria from Hannibal. Unconsciously desperate for his undivided attention, she began to sing.

The silver-leafed voice that abruptly flooded Erik's ears caused him to fumble on the piano keys, striking several errant notes. If Christine noticed, she did not react, instead continuing her performance without missing a beat.

After just a moment, they were unionized…his fingers plucked out the dark undertones and lingering harmonies as her voice lilted and mingled brightness into the dim lair.

The music swelled and pulsated. Before she realized it, Christine was crying…warm, salty tears that ran into her mouth as she sang.

Erik struggled to keep up with the powerful soprano, his musical talent being challenged as Christine effortlessly wrapped her voice around intricate scales and swooping runs that left Goosebumps across the back of his neck.

As the aria ended and the final notes fell into utter silence, Erik looked up at Christine.

Both were breathing heavily, sweating with exertion.

Fire pumped through Erik's veins as he stood suddenly with a snarl, kicking over and shattering yet another piano bench. He advanced on her, but this time she did not retreat.

They collided into a kiss, Christine's body crushed against Erik's with a cry of surrender. His hand locked around the back of her neck, moving and molding her mouth to his. He tasted her tears…licked them from her lips as he raged into her very soul.

When he broke the kiss, he kept her pressed to him, looking down into her weeping eyes.

His lips shook as he spoke…

"You're mine," he growled possessively, pressing his forehead to hers. "You're my angel of music…"