"I don't want to wake up and realize

what I was dreaming was right in front of my shut eyes.

I don't want to stop saying hellos for fear of saying good-byes."

Chapter Twelve

Tempest

"Where is Master Erik, Anita?" Christine asked. Raoul had allowed her to come back to Erik after their conversation and she was glad that he had understood. The look in his eyes would be with her for a while and she had to push her guilt away. She was where she belonged.

"Oh, Mademoiselle! Do not go near him!" Anita cried, clasping Christine's hands and looking at her with unmistakable fear in her eyes.

"What are you talking about, Anita?" Christine asked, frowing. Was it always something? Could there never be peace?

"He has gone mad! I swear by the heavens that man is insane!" she cried wildly. Christine looked the woman firmly in the eyes. She did not like the other woman speaking of Erik in such a way.

"Tell me slowly, Anita, what is going on!" Christine said.

"The master! He is destroying his room! I could hear things being thrown against the wall as I passed! He is cursing violently, Mademoiselle!" the maid said. Christine pulled away and began to run down the hallway, ignoring for the moment Anita's cries. What was going on with Erik? Was this just a fit of temper? She prayed that was not the case, his temper frightened her.

Hesitantly she opened the door to his chambers, a small gasp coming to her lips as she viewed what was before her. Glass and other broken objects lay strewn across the floor. The drapes were ripped from the rods that held them in place. The pillows had been ripped to shreds, their feathers decorating the torn sheets.

Erik's mask had been taken from his face and was lying at her feet. She bent and picked it up with shaking hands. Erik sat in a corner of the room, his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs. Christine approached him as silently as she was able, her heart racing in her chest. When she reached him she sat down beside him and laid her hand on his shoulder.

His head snapped up with the force of his surprise. His tear filled eyes stared into her own and Christine stared in disbelief at the immense sorrow she saw there. The mangled side of his face for once was not something she was thinking about. She wanted to know what had caused this sudden anger and sadness.

"Erik...what happened?" she whispered. He continued to stare. She reached out and pushed several of his tears away from his face and smiled at him.

"Erik?" she prompted.

"C-Christine?" he whispered, as if he did not believe she was there in front of him. She chuckled softly.

"Yes, Erik, who did you expect?" she asked.

"You came back?" he whispered. Now Christine frowned. What was he talking about.

"Of course, Erik, why would I not?" she whispered.

"The Vicomte," he said so softly she almost did not hear him.

"What?" Christine asked. How had he known of that?

"You went to him, Christine! I gave you a chance that night in the cellar to choose who it was you wished to be with. For reasons I cannot understand you chose me!" he said, needing to hear it desperately.

"Yes, I chose you, Erik!"

"Then why did you go to meet him?" he demanded.

"I did not! I thought it was Meg writing to me but it had been Raoul! He had wanted me to go with him and I told him I belong with you!" Christine said. He glanced down at her hand and saw the ring he had given her still where it had first been put.

When he had followed her it had been with the intent of making sure she was safe. His heart had been torn from his chest when he seen the Vicomte climb into the carriage. The idea that Christine would accept his hand and then sneak off to another man hurt worse then when he had thought she would leave him that night in the cellar.

"Erik," Christine whispered suddenly. He looked up at her and he saw tears in her eyes. She leaned forward and kissed him, her body trembling against him. He groaned and slowly kissed her back. But this time it was more then the chaste kisses they had shared previously. This time all of the anger Erik had been holding in turned into passion.

Gently his hand grasped her head and brought her closer. Christine willingly complied. With a slow stroke he ran his tongue against the seam of her lips, his whole body trembling. Christine moaned ever so softly against his mouth before opening her own. Erik's tongue entered her mouth for a sweet and slow exploration. Christine leaned forward and her hands rested lightly on his chest.

Erik had always imagined kissing Christine this way but the reality far outweighed the fantasy. Nothing could compare to this feeling. He groaned when he felt his body reacting and pulled away. Christine's eyes opened to stare at him with a glazed expression. He pushed some of her curls from her face. She smiled.

"You are beautiful," he whispered. She blushed and looked away.

"Thank you, Erik...I am sorry you got the wrong impression with Raoul and I," she whispered. He nodded.

"Christine...about the marriage...you still wish-"

"Yes, Erik!" she said hastily. A small smile spread across his face.

"How soon?" he asked. Christine blushed at her impatients but she needed to desperately put the doubt from his mind about her feelings.

"Soon," she whispered. He nodded. Christine looked around the room and sighed, shaking her head.

"Erik. You really need to control your temper," she admonished. He sighed and stood.

"You are right," he answered truthfully. Christine stood as well.

"Would you like to help me clean up?" she asked. He nodded. As Christine walked across the room and began to clean things up Erik realized for the first time that he was not wearing a mask...it was still in Christine's hands.