I'm happy to hear that most of you were rooting for Karlie as his love interest, but Demi will be an important influence in his life. There are some dramatic turns left for this story, so beware.

Mlle.Fox, everything you have to say is important to me. Could you clarify what points I keep repeating and driving hope? I know that I emphasis his abuse issues and the fact that he is extremely handsome to the opposite sex, whether he thinks so or not; the latter I do because I just can't get Gerik out of my head!

Happy Reading!

There can be only one highest priority in life.

God's Best for Your Success

I Surrender All

CHAPTER 12

Erik awoke with a start, something was not right. He looked around the room for evidence of this and saw nothing. He caught a lingering scent of vanilla and magnolia on the air and thought, perhaps he was imagining it. He did not remember getting undressed last night, but his shirt was missing…he must have removed it during the night.

His bare feet padded on the cold floor toward the washroom. He turned up the lamp and approached the mirror. Erik's heart began to beat frantically. His mask was missing and his marred flesh was bandaged.

How could this be and who had done it? Someone around here had seen him without his mask and had still taken the time to bind his wounds, which were obviously a result of one of his infamous nightmares.

A knock on his door jolted him out of his apprehension. He located his mask and slipped it on, noting how sore his flesh was. He strode to the door and opened it up to find Roland staring at him with concerned eyes.

"How are you this morning, Erik? You had a rough night." Roland was not sure if Erik would remember anything, so he took it slow, "Audrey warned me about your nightmares and headaches, but I have never witnessed anything as heart wrenching as what I saw last night."

Erik's eyes reflected a burning anger at his own vulnerability, he indicated his bandages with his hand, "Who did this?"

The abrupt question was asked with a terse tone. Erik was trying to keep his temper in check. He looked up to see the smirk on Roland's face, which agitated him even more.

"This man was becoming entirely too comfortable around me, even my moodiness doesn't affect him." Erik thought to himself.

Roland replied with quirked eyebrows, "You're welcome Erik, it was the least I could do."

Just the fact that someone had seen his face and had to endure the hideousness while they bound his wounds, was enough to make Erik feel sick. He swallowed his pride and got his temper under control before addressing Roland.

"I am thankful to you Roland…and in your debt. I hate the vulnerability that my nightmares put me in…I loathe myself even more than usual when I fall prey to weakness." Erik replied, trying to sound more at ease.

Roland saw the fleeting look of pain that crossed Erik's face, "No need for that Erik, I did what any friend would do." Roland chided.

Changing the subject, Roland asked, "Are you up to meeting the people you will be working with?"

Erik tentatively smiled, "Could you just send them to me on an individual basis? I see no need to meet the dancers, prop makers, design artists, or make up artists; at least, not yet."

After last nights fiasco, Erik was convinced that he needed to tie his hands to the bed to keep from having a repeat performance. It would be almost like being locked up again, but he felt it was necessary.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Erik was not a people person, that was a well-known fact; the thought of being introduced to anyone, caused a nauseous feeling to settle in the pit of his stomach. He knew that these people were familiar with his injuries and subsequent scarring, but that did not make it any easier to face them.

As the financier, he had a duty to be acquainted with as many people as he could be. He was committed to making sure that needs were meant, salaries were paid, and deadlines were made. He was expected to know the goings in and comings out of the opera house and do what needed to be done.

As financier, he was a public figure, but Erik would only be as public as need be. He would find, and handsomely reward, a suitable "Erik Clairvaux" for such occasions. This young man would attend any public affairs at which Erik was expected to make an appearance.

The room, in which he chose to meet his singers, was a practice room deep in the inner wall of the theater. The room was quaint and dimly lit on one side, which allowed Erik to stay in the shadows as much as possible. The promise he had made to himself, about becoming a part of the human race, was quickly fading from his memory.

The leading soprano, Heidi Flannigan, was a charming Irish girl with dancing, light blue eyes, strawberry blond hair, and a pale complexion. She was many levels above Carlotta in talent; but did not have the quality of Christine…but Erik could remedy that. She was in her early twenties and had come to America seeking fame and fortune, but could not stand the hustle and bustle of New York; Broadway had been her dream.

To continue in her dream, without the "big city" problems, she had come south west to New Orleans; that had been five years ago, and she never looked back.

Mid-way through the lesson she had to ask, "Mr. Clairvaux, we are all aware of your injuries and the scars that were left. Why do you continue to hide in the shadows?"

Erik was a bit surprised at her candor, but knew she meant well, "Believe me child, it is best this way." He replied.

"But sir, if I may say so, your voice is so beautiful and I would very much like to see the man that is attached to that voice." Heidi stated, breathlessly.

There was no way to make her, or anyone, understand why he hid in the shadows. The old "everyone has scars they are hiding" cliché did not work with him. If they bore scars, they were on the inside…and much easier to hide; Erik, unfortunately, had both types of scars.

"Once my injuries from last night have healed and I can once again wear my mask, I may allow myself to be seen; otherwise, I will remain as I have been…a ghost." His tone was detached and stern.

Heidi accepted that, not really understanding it, but she dropped the subject. The lesson came to a close and Erik watched her exit the room. Erik wondered if all American women were as forthright as Demi and Heidi. It would be interesting to find out.

The lead male was a Spanish peacock named Bernardo De la Vega. He was a little stuck on himself and did not understand why he would need personal instruction; so that left Erik with the unpleasant task of making the man realize that he was not a perfect singer.

"Bernardo, there is always room for improvement, and although you are talented and have been singing for years, I hear straining in your voice that could be remedied with some of the exercises I will be assigning you." Erik tried to keep his voice steady as he spoke, but rage was brewing.

"Look Mr. Clairvaux, I don't mean any disrespect, but I do not do well with authority figures." Bernardo held his head high to match the loftiness in his voice. "I come from a wealthy Spanish family and I took voice lessons as a child, but my father halted them. He believed that, as a De la Vega, I should not take lessons, especially from someone beneath me."

Erik cringed at the audacity of his words. He closed his eyes and tried to will away the headache that threatening, "Am I to understand that you believe you are above lessons because you come from a privileged family?"

Erik was livid! No one was above having lessons and he certainly could not use a lead tenor who felt he had nothing to learn.

"It's nothing personal, Mr. Clairvaux; I just don't think there is anything I could learn from you." Bernardo insisted, completely unaware of the price his haughtiness could cost him.

Erik felt he needed to confer with Roland before making any decisions concerning the players. He spoke in an even tone, which belied the anger coursing through him, "This session is over Mr. De la Vega, leave."

Bernardo left, having no idea that his position in the French Opera House was very much in jeopardy; Erik may not be of "noble" birth, but he IS the financier of the opera house and therefore, has the final say over who stays and who goes.

Alone in the room, Erik's thoughts drifted to Christine. He had not allowed himself to think about her for the duration of the trip, nor for the days he had been here. His heart ached with every memory of her, making him more and more certain that his fate would remain clutched in the grip of solitude and loneliness.

He thought about all the joy her training and practice sessions had brought him. He thought about the pride he felt as her voice soared above any other and she received the recognition her talent deserved. He thought about the fear and loathing he had read in her eyes as she gawked at his ugliness and, then again, as he proclaimed his love for her.

"Fool!" Erik spat at his shadow. "You are nothing but a fool and a beast…what would make you think you could even rise high enough to kiss her feet…or any woman's feet, for that matter?" The self-directed malice in Erik's voice would have made anyone cringe from the violence contained within it.

What he had thought was love for Christine, had turned out to be something darker and very destructive. Was it obsession perhaps, the need to have companionship or to control someone? Erik had no idea; he only knew that he would not know love if it tapped him on the shoulder.

If Christine had set out to teach him that he was not capable of loving another human being, he had learned his lesson well. Not only was he not capable of loving another human being, he was not worthy of being loved; so it all balanced out in the long run.

"Love and passion were not meant for creatures like you Erik; you know this…and yet you desire it with all your heart." Erik voice resounded off the walls as he chastised and berated himself, hoping his own voice would drill some sense into him. "Fool!" He spat again, as his fist hit the wall.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Karlie had been passing by the practice room when Bernardo had exited. The man was a pig and Karlie could not stand the sight of him. He was a "pretty boy" who felt all women should bow at his feet and be subservient to him.

He was another Anton Bourbon just waiting in the wings. Anton had bedded many of the dancers, impregnated a few, refused to do the "honorable" thing with any of them, and had eventually stormed out of the opera house insisting that he could no longer deal with fickle females who expected him to take care of them.

He had approached Karlie one too many times, about a week before he stormed out. Karlie had made it quite clear that she was not in the least bit interested in a man who used women for his own amusement and then discarded them without a second thought.

Anton had resented her refusal and had made it a point of hounding her everyday; trying to charm his way into her bed. Karlie would have none of it. She was far smarter and far slyer than he gave her credit for…let's just say, she beat him at his own game.

FLASHBACK

Third person view

Karlie was tired; tired of all of his advances and wandering hands. She was going to end this, once and for all.

Bernardo was more than surprised when Karlie answered his probing kisses with one of her own. He took the opportunity to taste her mouth and work his magic.

If there was anything she had learned over the years, it was how to act; and her performance at this particular moment, was a masterpiece. She roamed her hands up his sweaty, hairy back and let him feel her mock excitement.

"Meet me in my quarters in fifteen minutes Bernardo; you'll have the time of your life." Karlie breathed, heaving her ample bosom as she spoke.

To add insult to injury, she planted a kiss on his wet lips and pulled his lower lip into her mouth, biting down as she did so.

Bernardo winced at the minor pain the bite caused and pulled away from her, grinning seductively.

"You won't regret this Karlie." He said with confidence. "I'll be the best you have ever had."

With those words, he rushed away to freshen up for his intimate rendezvous with Karlie.

It was almost precisely fifteen minutes later that he knocked on the door of her quarters, "Karlie, get ready for the lay of a lifetime." He chimed.

"Come into the bedroom, Bernardo…and don't turn up the lights, I like them low." Karlie stated.

He followed her voice into the bedroom and saw her figure lying on the bed, he could only make out the outline of her body, but he was too far gone to realize that the figure had fewer curves than Karlie.

He lay down on the bed beside her figure, breathing in the wonderful scent of her. He went to touch her and she drew away, "Not yet, you naughty boy…not until I say." Her voice was husky and low, like nothing Bernardo had ever heard.

She moved in for a kiss and his lips meant hers. He dove into the kiss with everything he had. This was certainly different from the last kiss they had shared. Her lips were tighter and less compliant.

Bernardo tried to heighten her excitement by nipping her bottom lip, which meant with a resounding slap across his face.

A knock sounded on the door and Bernardo ignored, hoping she would too; but it was persistent.

Thankfully, it stopped after a few seconds and Bernardo continued with his seduction dance. He went in for another kiss, excitement coursing through his body. This time, the lips were more pliable to his and he beckoned with his tongue for entrance.

His tongue slipped in and his hand went down. He was anxious to make her as excited as he was. He skimmed over her breasts and headed for her womanly core. He was so far gone that he didn't realize that the lamps were being turned up.

His made contact with…it took his mind a few seconds to realize that he was lying with a man, Stephen, to be exact. Of course, his hand did not immediately removed itself from the man's groin, and the eyes of eleven people were resting on them.

Bernardo was mortified! Eleven sets of eyes had just witnessed his level of excitement at the touch of a man…even though he did not know he was a man; and to top the evening off perfectly, they had seen Bernardo's hand on Steve's manhood.

Bernardo would never live this down.

END FLASHBACK

To this day, people still wondered about Bernardo…was he, or wasn't he?

Karlie received a measure of joy at seeing him squirm beneath the eyes that watched him or cringe when people stopped talking when he walked in a room. The whole ordeal was priceless!

Bernardo De la Vega was cut from the same piece of cloth as Anton, only he was worse. Bernardo felt that his wealth and position in life afforded him certain "rights" when it came to the opposite sex. He did not take "no" for an answer and often found himself in very compromising positions with the female players.

He purposefully collided with Karlie as he flew out of the practice room, taking the opportunity to run his hands up her body. The look he gave her made her blood run cold. The man was a monster…that was plain to see. There were not many people that Karlie could say she hated, but Bernardo De la Vega was one of them.

He walked away and Karlie caught sight of movement in the room he had just exited. The heavy door had not yet closed, so she silently stepped inside, hiding in the shadows as she tried to determine who or what was in the room.

The voice she heard produced a tingling sensation in her body; the tone was so dark and beautiful, like the majestic Black Panther that Karlie had seen on display at the New Orleans Zoo.

Not only was the tone ethereal, she knew it could control her if that had been its purpose. She knew it belonged to Erik Clairvaux, the mysterious man she had held in her arms and rocked to sleep.

The physical aspects of him still consumed her thoughts, especially now that she heard the voice again after seeing him. Was he just another handsome man whose sole purpose would be to bed every available woman he saw? Audrey had said that Christine had given him his first and only kiss; did that mean he had never known physical love?

Karlie found that hard to believe. He was just so handsome, even with the marred flesh, she could see the striking beauty of his features; a few scars did not hide that. His body was certainly well-shaped and wonderfully formed; Karlie blushed as she remembered her reaction to his sculptured chest and upper torso.

But physical beauty had never been something that attracted Karlie. She wanted a man with substance and depth, not same "dandy" whose only purpose was to further his place in society or deepen his pockets with gold. She did not mind a man who had wealth; she just did not want wealth that had the man.

She tried to be as still as possible, knowing that she should not be in here listening to his personal conversation with…it appeared he was talking to himself.

"Fool!"

Karlie heard him spit the word at the air, knowing he was referring to himself. He was pacing the floor, like a caged, predatory cat.

Karlie had never heard such self-hatred and loathing. She bit her bottom lip to keep her thoughts from escaping.

"You are nothing but a fool and a beast…what would make you think you could even rise high enough to kiss her feet…or any woman's feet, for that matter?"

This man felt himself to be the lowest of the low, unworthy of simple human emotions; unworthy of the love of a woman.

"Love and passion were not meant for creatures like you Erik; you know this…and yet you desire it with all your heart."

Karlie winced at the agony she heard seeping out with every word he spoke. This man had indeed suffered many indescribable things in his lifetime; that was obvious.

She watched in horror as he slammed his fist into the brick wall, not even registering the paint that must have enveloped him.

"Fool!"

Karlie watched as he went to his knees; his broad shoulders shaking with his sobs. The cries she heard made her nauseous from their intensity…she could not stay any longer.

She considered her chances of sneaking out the door undetected, but knew he would notice. Her choice was soon made for her as he picked himself up off the floor.

She watched from deeper in the shadows as Erik literally drug himself out the door, holding his wounded hand to his chest…he never saw her.

Pain had never touched Karlie Bordeaux as much as it did this night.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Erik examined his hand in the privacy of his room. He had dislocated his wrist bone and knew that he had to get it back in place. He was going to have enlist some help to get it done.

He went in search of Roland. He was in his office, finishing up some paperwork when Erik walked through the door holding his wrist.

"What happened, Erik?" Roland asked as he jumped up to help Erik.

Erik smiled a painful smile and answered, "Let's just say that my temper got the best of me…I need your help to relocate the bone in my wrist." Erik stated.

Roland looked shocked by the request, "How do you expect to do that without a doctor?"

"I don't need a doctor for this Roland; I can do it myself with your help." Erik's voice took on the tone of teacher. "It will hurt, and I will want to stop before the bone relocates, that is where you come in."

Roland looked horrified, "What is it, exactly, that you want me to do?"

Erik had concocted a device in the door that would allow him to place his injured, swollen wrist between two boards and have Roland apply pressure to one side until his wrist snapped back into place.

Roland reluctantly agreed, but only because Erik assured him that the pain was fleeting and he would be as good as new once the wrist was back in place.

The resounding "click" of the bone sliding back in place, made Roland sick to his stomach, as did the white-as-a-sheet look that Erik had on his face once the deed was done. Erik had not made a sound through the entire ordeal, but his face was ashen and he was sweating profusely.

His wrist felt almost as good as new and he knew it would be fine by tomorrow. He thanked Roland for helping him and headed out of the office and down the hall.

To Be Continued…