To Live Again 15
Warning! PG-16 for this chapter! Somewhat nonexplicit sex
Usual disclaimers apply, and will not be mentioned again.
Without further ado:
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A sweeping aria filled the halls and she sat there, lovely and composed, appearing no more than an ordinary woman, albeit a beautiful one, to anyone who should look up to the "dreaded, cursed Box Five".
But if anyone in that theater had any idea what transpired for Joelle Etienne, they might be shocked.
Unless they knew her, for then, most likely, they'd find the situation hilarious: two people madly in love, one holding back for ridiculous, imaginary reasons; the other a usually tomboyish, atypical woman showing every cliched sign of a woman hooked and desperate, dolled up to maximum flirtiness in a way that might previously have had her either laughing her head off or coming up with some veiled, yet distinctly biting remark.
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"I know you're there, luv." She said without turning around; "You might as well come out and sit down."
Slowly he slipped out of the passage and sat beside her, still in awe of her altered appearance.
Tonight she wore a rich violet dress, similar in cut to the rose-colored one, but slightly more revealing in the neckline. Further attracting attention to this fact, she wore a necklace with a vivid drop-amethyst dangling right at her cleavage, glittering tantalizingly with every move; every shift of light.
Her hair was swept up gracefully, revealing her slim white neck. The vibrant color of the gown only served to turn her fair skin to alabaster perfection and melt her eyes to a misty indigo.
She smiled, polite, calm, even as she drove him mad—honestly, how many men now saw her like this? It simply wasn't safe for a lady of her beauty and wealth to tempt the weaker men like this!
"I trust I find you well..." She murmured lowly.
'Oh yes,' He thought, gaze sweeping over her once more. 'Very "well" indeed, unfortunately.' He swallowed hard, discreetly shifting his cloak. "As well as can be expected, mademoiselle." He managed to casually reply.
They passed the rest of the time in relative silence, scattered throughout with polite, formal conversation. When the Opera ended, he bowed, kissed her hand in a formally light, gentlemanly fashion and they parted with polite salutations.
The same happened the next day, and for a little over a week, and each day was harder for him.
All of this continued until he could take it no more: being close to her; smelling her; watching her; hearing her sweet, sweet voice…and yet only touching her in the most formal, impersonal, "respectable" of manners!
And then… the flowers at night.. the dreams…
Waking up filled with her scent; her name on his lips….
Erik was, quite honestly, at the end of his strength.
He could bear it no longer.
There she was, tantalizing in another rosy dress, this one somehow more swishy and tempting than the first, although the difference was subtle.
That smile again! "Why don't you come join me, Er..."
She was cut off as Erik dashed out, grabbed her from behind, and swept her back into the passage, which closed immediately behind them.
"Erik, what the he..."
Her body was crushed tight against his as his lips crashed down on hers in a fierce, searing kiss.
When he let her go, her eyes were half lidded, pupils huge, something swirling in the azure depths. He could also detect utter bafflement—and something unidentifiable…at his nigh-animalistic behavior.
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"I tried warning you." Erik said in a half-growl, "I gave you a chance to get away… Joelle, for most of my considerably long life I've been "Demon", "Monster", "Ghost", "Devil-child", "Freak", "Beast", "Abomination". Part of that will always be with me, in one way or another. Can you live with that? He asked. "A dual nature: Man and Monster; can you bear it?" Again he fiercely took her mouth. She clung to him, reeling with ecstasy at the divine pleasure too long denied. Again he pulled her back.
"Can you live with THIS?" He tore off his mask, throwing it on the ground. Joelle could see him shaking.
The silence was deafening as she processed the sudden startling changes.
Erik apparently misinterpreted it, for his knees gave way and he tumbled to the ground in a sobbing heap.
"Joelle! Oh god, Joelle, if you forsake me now I am broken for-ever! If you leave me after this, I know I shall die! You were right, about the lies, the secrecy, the avoidance… I'm sorry… But you are my life and I shall die with-out you."
He bowed his head as if his doom was sealed already.
"Oh, Erik." Joelle knelt beside him and pulled him into her arms. "My dear, dear Erik. I've been trying so hard to win you back." She wiped away the tears on his cheeks—both sides—with her hands. "To me you are perfect. Did you know I went out and got drunk with a complete stranger just to try to stop missing you?"
"But…I hurt you…" His voice was small; childlike.
"Pff! I've gotten worse sparring with Raoul, and little Jammes in the ballet could fight better than him!"
He looked doubtful.
She sighed; "Erik, I loved you before I even really knew you: As a nameless hero, I idolized you; but as a man, I love you so much it hurts. Whatever I've done to drive you away, forgive me…being without you is killing me!" She buried her face in his shoulder.
His arms wound around her. "I was trying to save you." He said in a ragged, shaky voice
"Save me by holding me." She whispered, "I'll do whatever it takes to prove my love and put your mind at ease."
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Candlelight glimmered in their eyes, along with a multitude of emotions as they stood face to face beside Erik's bed.
Erik could barely contain his love, desire, and anticipation for this woman, yet as he met her big blue eyes he saw a flash of something which might be fear. "You don't have to do this, Joelle." He said softly, taking in the silhouette of her slim body through the filmy slip she had stripped down to.
She blushed, "I..I want to, Erik. I am ready." She nodded, "I love you and I want to be with you forever. Starting now, we'll have a piece of each other that no one else can ever touch. This way, if Rojer…" She broke off, biting her lip, "Well, whatever happens, we have this…now, and I am yours. You will be my first, and hopefully only lover."
"If he touches you I'll…"
She laid her finger on his lips. "No more talk of these dark matters. All that exists now is you and I." Suddenly she blushed, "But… I'm not entirely sure how this progresses?"
"Nor am I." He admitted.
"Well I do believe we should be wearing considerably less clothing…"
He blushed, "I can't argue with that idea."
Shyly, she came closer and began to loose the buttons of his shirt.
Skin brushed against skin, lips locked as two figures danced an ancient dance.
And then it happened; a first for them both as he entered her.
Joelle whimpered as a rush of pain swept through her, then gave a little gasp as it was slowly replaced by pure pleasure, and then…blissful completion!
Stars exploded in their eyes as two became one. Love, safety, and belonging went from concepts to real, vivid things so clear that they could reach out and touch them.
In that fleeting moment before release, they both Knew. Knew for sure that they were where they had always belonged.
Knew that whatever had broken them in the past, it was insignificant next to the beautiful completion of this real, all-encompassing love.
They were mere mortals who touched upon a realm of heaven that few ever truly know—the absolution of True Love, devoid of any further doubts or fears, for now at least.
Their souls and bodies joined that night, and all memory of loneliness dissipated like the fog of night fading away in the face of the bright sun and gentle breeze of morning.
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Erik looked down in wonder at the sleeping woman curled up against him, marveling once again at the change his life had taken.
So much now was different, and it all centered on this remarkable tiny, oddly vulnerable-looking woman.
He trailed a loving finger down her cheek, wondering that hands which had killed as an assassin, as the angel of death of Persia, fought for his life, and terrorized idiot Opera House managers had suddenly become so gentle, caressing a lover now instead of killing an enemy.
How sweet it had been, this…experience with her,
He'd been so shy and nervous at first; so insecure, feeling old and undesirable.
Yet her love had encouraged him, and soon he played her like a violin, eliciting the most remarkable sounds.
For the first time in his life, he smiled a smile of true contentment as he kissed one of the midnight curls that tumbled like a dark silken blanket over his naked skin.
Joelle gave a soft, happy little sigh in her sleep and snuggled closer to him.
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"What do you want to know about me, Joelle? He asked.
"Everything.?
"It all began fifty years ago in a small Scandinavian village. My father was dead and my mother was alone. When I was born, I suppose I was a great disappointment, to say the least…"
"…..And when you came back a month later, for the first time, I wanted to Live again."
"Oh Erik…" She kissed him on the cheek. "I love you."
"I love you, Joelle." He whispered. "Sometimes I think I'm only alive when you hold me. Loving you is the best thing that I've ever done."
He sighed as her smooth, warm cheek rested against the cold, disfigured side of his face.
"You, Erik, are a remarkable man; more so than you know. Through all the ordeals life has put you through, you still retained your good heart. Yes, you compromised a few times, and sometimes made the wrong decision, but that's only human. You, dear, are a miracle." She said.
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"Papa!" A small, dark-haired boy ran and threw himself at Rojer.
"Rojolin." Rojer greeted with a small smile. "And how are you and your mother?"
"How come you never stay?" The three year old asked.
"You know I have business to attend to." He replied.
Rojolin nodded solemnly, "Oh yeah, you have to save the Lady." He remembered.
He grew up knowing all about the Lady.
His mother spoke of her with a sort of fearful awe, and with half-concealed loathing and envy.
His father spoke of her like a goddess.
Rojer himself had chosen Tanelle because of her resemblance to Joelle, renaming her when he took her from her father's ship off the coast of Spain.
"Soon, son, She will come home."