"You see!" Erik said sharply, loathing for Raoul sparkling in his eyes. "I do not hide Christine in my bed not behind my curtains!" Margareite stiffened at the tone of his voice. She knew it was not directed at her, but a raised male voice still instilled fear within her. She hugged close to him, silently pealing that he lower his voice. Erik looked down at her and ran his hand over her thick down of brown hair. I'm sorry, she read in his eyes. He looked back to Raoul, who had turned sharply to face him, anger contorting his handsome features.
"Your bed?" he spat. "Did you force her to join you in bed as well as kidnap her, you filthy, mangy-" Erik's face had become one of complete disbelief, but Margareite's had taken the mask of expression she had worn the day she had bitten out at Christine. Releasing Erik's side from her grasp, she stepped forward with and angry air. Erik made to catch her arm, but she shook him off and strode forward. Raoul had paid her no mind, his eyes fixed murderously upon Erik, who stood torn between arguing for what little honor he held and forcing Margareite back.
Margareite circled out of Raoul's vision, using his distracted hate to her advantage. Erik's eyes flitting back and forth between Raoul and Margareite, unsure of what to do. What was she doing? She glanced at him momentarily and placed a finger to her lips. Her eyes hardened and she continued to circle in behind Raoul.
Following her lead, Erik fixed his gaze back upon Raoul, meeting his eyes with sparking hate.
"I may be inhuman in you eyes, Viscount," he said lowly. "But I do not force women into my bed."
"And how do I know that?" Raoul shot back at him. "Surely your lust eventually played itself out. What did you do to her?" Raoul's voice had risen into an angry crescendo.
"I did nothing," Erik spat, enphising the last word.
"What did you do to her?" Raoul shouted, raising his dagger again. Erik saw a flash of movement, then was caught by surprise when Raoul cried out in a sound only a male in genital pain could make. Erik's mouth spread into a sneer that he did not restrict in the slightest. Erik had lost sight of Margareite in his anger but now looked at her as she had shot between Raoul's spread-stanced legs and grasped his testicles through the material of his pants.
Margareite squeezed harshly, biting her nails into the tender skin as the man cried out, dropping his knife in pain. She smiled ruthfully, enjoying the feel of HER fingers finally causing the pain. After a moment, Raoul recovered well enough to raise a hand to strike her, but she twisted her fistful of male organ viciously, pulling with a sharp tug to add a good measure of agony. Raoul cried out again, this time louder, blind with pain once again. Margareite's smile disappeared into a snarling face.
"Get you pet off of me, Creature!" Raoul screeched his voice barley audible for his pain.
"I am not his, nor any other mans' pet," Margareite spat. "He never has, nor would he force Christine into his bed. He is not violent like most of your kind." Her voice began to growl as she spoke as she squeezed tighter upon her vice. "This is only a fraction of the pain that your kind has caused me, male," she hissed, watching with ultimate satisfaction as the man in her mercy breathed through clenched teeth until he heard her words, and his eyes fell upon her sharply.
Raoul's eyes snapped open and he looked down at the girl that was ravaging his family jewels with agony. Now it made sense. Addressing him as a male; "you and yours"… she had been badly hurt by men…. He bit down on his thoughts before he could allow the idea that Erik might be innocent of those scars that marred her young skin. The cold revenge that sparkled maliciously in her eyes caused him to still.
"If men hurt you, it was not my fault," he said with a hoarse voice. "Please release me, mademoiselle." Margareite's snarling face spit at him with hate, her eyes telling him she would rather continue to cause him discomfort.
"Oh, as you let me go when you held me at knife point?" she bit out angrily.
Erik sighed, wishing he could enjoy the scene longer, but knew that Christine was the main priority right now.
"Margareite," he said, his voice highly amused. Raoul snatched a look at him of pure loathing and hate, his pride highly wounded. "Free the Viscount from your marvelous grip." Margareite looked at him with slitted eyes glittering with the want to cause more pain to this man. He shook his head in her direction. With obvious disappointment, the girl released Christine's fiancé. She skittered away before Raoul could reach out to grab her, but he made no move to hurt her again as she snatched up his discarded knife and hurried to Erik's side. Erik doubted that he would after this little scene. His sneer settled into a straight face as he turned back to the subject of Christine.
"As you see," he said to Raoul, whose legs threatened to buckle, "I do not hide Christine here. If she is not with you, then what could have happened to her?" Raoul glared at him, hands clenched at his side, his mouth tightly shut. Erik growled lowly in his frustration. How he hated allowing this man to live when he had him so easily within his death grip! But without him, he doubted that he would find Christine.
"Come now, Viscount," he said, fighting to keep his voice even. "I am as loath to companionship between us as yourself but to find Christine we must talk like civilized-"
"Civilized men?" Raoul interrupted, his fist clenching so strongly his knuckles whitened with the strain. "How am I expected to talk like a civilized man hen nothing more but a-"
Erik looked at Margareite pointedly, then back to Raoul. He had long ago learned to discard insults form this particular man, but he needed some way to control him.
"Would you like to replay your most recent embarrassment, Viscount?" he asked coldly. Raoul's eyes became panicked as they flitted to Margareite who stood more then ready to take her wrath out upon him again.
"Fine!" Raoul said quickly. "Fine! What do you want to talk about, Creature?" Erik's jaw twitched in annoyance, but continued without throwing and insult foremost.
"What could have happened to Christine?" Erik asked, cooling his voice to a careless tone, surprised that he found it so easy to sound so casual about the subject of his loved one having gone missing.
"She must have been kidnapped," Raoul answered shortly. "Even if not by you and your lowly self." He stared blandly at the side of the face that Erik had replaced his mask upon before setting out to face his archrival. Erik breathed deeply before continuing.
"Why MUST she have?"
"Her horse returned rider less." Simple. Angry. And worried.
"Could she not have fallen off?" raoul shook his head, his hair half dried now, his shirt dried in wrinkles.
"She's too accomplished a rider, and her horse far too calm tempered," Raoul answered.
"That besides, she was riding in the high end of town. The aristocracy sleeps at night; we do not go out. I cannot see her riding much farther then a block end of the verge of the high and low ends of the town." His voice had become tiered now, his worry for Christine reigning even brighter then his hatred for Erik. Erik took comfort in not having to fend off sneering comments for the moment. He nodded.
Margareite listened to the conversation and blanched widely, her mouth becoming as dry as a desert. The high and low ends o town… the Kingreas were there. Her old family. The past she had hoped to bury. Now it seemed that it was bound to haunt her no matter where she ran. And now the evil of the Kingreas had latched its claws into Christine.
Margareite swallowed numerous times, attempting to find her voice. She started more then once, but her words would not come out as more then a whisper. Did the Kingrea rules of utter silence follow her everywhere? Steeling herself, Margareite gathered her breath, forcing herself to scream, hoping it her words would come out at least audible to the ear.
"The Kingrea Group!" her ears told her that her voice had risen only to a normal speaking level. Upset by her body's traitorous refusal to speak at her will, she bit her tong. Erik had spun around to face her.
"What?" he asked sharply, making her jump. He strode over to her quickly, kneeling down and meeting her eye level.
Her Oak eyes rang mahogany dark now, pain and fear shining as fresh within them as the first night that he had first gathered her up.
"What do you say? What do you mean?" he asked. "Who is the Kingrea Group?"
The girl opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She swallowed again, and attempted to speak again, but to no avail. He shook his head. There was only one explanation for this reaction in Margareite.
"Hush," he said. "Just nod or shake your head. It's the men that had you, isn't it?" Nod. Erik hung his head, dread spearing through his sharply. What horrors was Christine facing now? "You're sure?" he asked. Nod.
"What is she talking about?" Raoul's voice inturupted. Erik hung his head again, taking a breath, then stood slowly, squeezing Margareite to him with an arm.
"I know where she is," he said. "Or…the area, at the very least. We must get Christine out of the predicament she is in. God knows what she's already forced to endure." Raoul shook his head.
"What do you speak of?" he asked, utterly confused. "Who has Christine? What are they doing to her? How do you know what they are doing to her?" Erik stared into his eyes, slicing into them, capturing Raoul's full attention, then looked at Margareite.
"She answers all your questions," he said, gently pulling Margareite's thick mop of brown locks atop her head. Raoul blanched at the scars that had hidden beneath the hair, her shoulders bore tick, deep, wide scars in zigzag formations. Erik raised her neck with the touch of his fingers to her chin to remind Raoul of the choking scar.
"Oh gods," he whispered. "I have to get her out of there." He forced his sight from the quietly submitting Margareite to look Erik in the eye with begging eyes, "Please…please I know we have or heavy differences-"that was put lightly, he thought bitterly. "– but I can't find her without you. Please help me find her." Erik's eyes stared at him coldly.