Okay I had to redo this chapter cuz i didnt like the whole idea of "sex before marriage" and all, and I think it's a little better right now.

and ONCE AGAIN THANK YOU TO MY REVIEWERS! im rather fond of this chapter, so read it and review please! It took me a long time, cuz I've been really depressed cuz my favorite kitty died. I know she was just a cat, but she was like, family. So I've been bummed out, but writing this chapter actually helped me! Anyways, none of that's important, so just read pwease. I think this story is going to turn out to be very long, because i still have to put Meg inthis story, and i did something in this chapter that's gonna make that difficult. I made a mistake in one of my earlier chapters, I said that Christine's room had a door, when actually its just a black veil. So forgive me for that foolish mistake, I forgot her room was the one with the veil lol.

Review and you'll get a cookie!

Chapter 9: Sheer Bliss

His ears were ringing, his palms were sweating, and his breath was coming out in gasping heaves that drained him of his energy. He felt the blood roaring in his ears, and his body burned with Christine's words. She was tricking him again. He stood from his place on the steps, knocking Christine aside and striding angrily towards the landing, fleeing down the steps without even looking back. He could faintly hear Christine's shrill cries as he raced down the steps, dashing across the street towards the horse-drawn carriage that was still parked outside the café.

He approached the horse shakily, disregarding the sound of the horse's protestant whinnies as he untied the horse from the carriage. He coaxed the horse away from the café, walking it into a small alley so he could remove the carriage pulls from the horse's neck. He glanced at the carriage, noticing how lonesome and empty it looked now that it's leader was gone, its way of life, and recognized the feeling immediately. With a sigh and a half-sob, he placed his foot in the stirrups and pulled himself onto the horse's back.

He sat there a moment, twisting the horse's long black mane about his slender fingers, contemplating what he was to do. Christine had lied to him, again. He had fallen for it, just as he always did, just as he always would. She had looked so innocent, so unbelievably sincere, that he had never thought for a moment she was deceiving him. But then she had said those words, those words he had never heard and never hoped to hear from anyone, not even his parents. Christine must have been incredibly bold to presume that he would believe anyone could have affectionate feelings for him, and not just the ones that a student has for a tutor.

He sneered as he discovered that Christine must have been slipping up on her talents of deceiving him, for they both were aware that Christine had been in Raoul's arms only hours before she had come outside, and Raoul had been embracing her for dear life. He remembered her saying something about Raoul being asleep, and he concluded that that was her reason for coming to him. Erik was nothing but her plaything, her toy that she could play with when she grew bored with another. He felt anger escalate in his throat, and for a moment thought that he was angry at Christine. No, he was angry at himself. For letting Christine deceive him, for letting her into his life, for ever meeting her. But he quickly took this back, and cursed himself as he realized what he had thought.

No matter what Christine did to him, she had been his life. If she hadn't come to the opera house, he would have always been a fearful menace to the opera, and would continue to kill and torment until he truly became a demon, completely unaware of any human emotions besides pain and suffering. He smiled as he coaxed the horse from the alley, briefly glancing back towards Nadir's apartment to find the landing empty, vacant of everything except an ever-growing layer of rich, white snow. He frowned as he led the horse down the Rue de Rivoli, certain that Christine was probably in Raoul's arms once again, cuddling up against him as she silently scoffed at the foolish gullible masked monster.

He turned left when he came to a large building dwelling right next to the Opera House, disregarding the stares of the market owners who were just opening, placing their new stock of fresh fruits and vegetables on the old, weather-worn stands. As he turned into the dark alley-way, he slowed his pace so he could observe his surroundings, surveying the shadows to make sure he had not been seen. Satisfied he was alone, he lowered himself from the horse and began to enter the Rue Scribe entrance, before realizing he didn't want to go to his lair. He could take no more darkness or emptiness that day, and decided to visit the small café set up on the edge of the market. He strode towards the café at a brisk pace, savoring the surprisingly welcome feel of the cold wind whipping at his face, and the wet snow caking his cape with its icy veil.

He walked into the café, wincing at the sound of the voices of the workers, talking incredibly loud and buoyant, which was not exactly what Erik was looking forward to at the moment. He looked around the dingy café, surprised at how many people were there when it could not even be four o'clock. There was a warm couple in one corner, cuddled together in a snug booth, and three different loners, none of them touching their drink, all staring outside as if wishing the world would come and take them away forever. None of them turned their heads as he walked in, none acknowledging the mysterious masked man walking into their only sanctuary. He waited patiently for the manager to notice him, finding great pleasure in observing the behavior of the other customers. Finally, the cashier's voice broke through his enjoyment. "What'll it be, Monsieur?"

He turned towards the cashier lazily, and ordered one cup of black coffee. The cashier went into the back to make his drink, and when he returned with the steamy cup Erik retreated to the darkest corner of the café, which was barely lit by a dying candle over the table. He sipped his coffee silently, savoring the bitter taste that lingered on his mouth as he drifted in and out of thoughts of Christine. He had drunken half of his drink when a familiar, clear, aristocrat's voice broke through his reveries. "Any word on the girl yet?"

His head snapped up, and he surveyed the man who had just stepped into the café. He looked incredibly out of place in the dingy café, with his rich silk overcoat and dark violet waistcoat. His hair was heavily sprayed, but Erik could tell from his position that there were more gray hairs than usual poking out from his crown. It was Philippe, Raoul's older brother, and Erik quickly rose from his seat and slunk into the shadows, perking his ears to hear every word.

"Oh, you mean that Daae girl? She was the chorus girl turned star weren't she? The one having an affair with that Opera Ghost? I swear on my life I have never in my life heard such a story. People from all over come in here, yapping on about how she left your brother for that demon. Must've been one fine fellow, that Phantom, although most of them stories call him repulsive." Erik clutched onto the back of a nearby chair, nearly stumbling over at the ridiculousness of the manager's words. Repulsive indeed.

Philippe looked impatient about something, and his tone was edgy as he spoke in a hushed whisper, but Erik could hear every word.

"Yes, Mademoiselle Daae. I still do not have a clue where she is at the moment, she's been missing ever since that disastrous Don Juan play. Fantastic music by the way, although I don't remember who the managers said composed it..." Erik scoffed quietly as Philippe drifted off, remembering the powerful music of Don Juan, Erik's most prized work.

"Well, in any matter, Frank, I can't help but thinking that she and that Phantom ran away together. You know, none of my men were able to find any trace of her when we searched in that gloomy hell he calls a home. And my brother, he's been missing just as long. I can't find myself hoping much for him though. The poor boy was almost out of his mind that night, not able to say anything not related to that damned girl. Little whore probably drove him insane." Erik's grip on the chair grew tighter, and he clenched his teeth to keep himself from lunging out at Philippe, ripping his heart from his chest. How dare he? He forced himself to remain silent as Philippe continued.

"I have a lead on where he's hiding though, underneath that heap of ash they call an opera house. Maybe I'll find them all there, sipping tea and chatting about the latest scandals at Prestavergne's pub like a group of aristocrats." Frank laughed heartily as Philippe turned and strutted from the café, after retrieving a Paris paper from the side counter. Erik slid out from his hiding place, and sat quietly back in his seat, picking up his cup to finish the lukewarm coffee. He found the taste utterly unbearable, and with a disgusted grunt tossed the cup into the trash-bin beside the counter. He sat back in his seat, still seething about Philippe's words.

So the whole town was talking about him and Christine? Well, if they wanted to think that she was having an affair, then so be it. Although it would sure come as a surprise to all when Raoul and Christine turned up at the De Chagny Estate, perfectly well and ready to marry. Erik felt his heart sink as he rose from his seat, heading out the door into the freezing wind. The blasts of cold air were not as comforting now, and he found himself longing for the warmth of his lair. He hurried towards the Rue Scribe entrance, noticing that the horse was no longer positioned outside the entrance. He gave a silent prayer that the horse had left, as a stranded horse would surely draw attention and no doubt reveal his entrance.

He opened the gate with a loud creak, and slipped inside and was immediately encased in darkness. He strode down the passageways, not needing a form of light to find his way down the twisting hallways, until he reached the side entrance to the lair, the same one that Raoul had stumbled through.

He walked out into the middle of the lair, and noticed with bewilderment that all the candles were lit, and the lair was full of twisting shadows from the light of the candle. He squinted around the lair, letting his eyes fully adjust to the harsh light he had not expected. His mouth fell open as his eyes landed on his organ, where his piano music had been reorganized and was laying against his organ in three straight piles, and the organ was gleaming along with the bench and every other piece of furniture in the lair. All the glass from the mirrors he had broken had been discarded, and his floor looked cleaner than it had in years.

He looked around the whole of his lair, his mouth still agape, disbelief etched into every crease in his forehead. Finally, he stumbled towards his organ and collapsed on his bench. He was so confused! His lair hadn't looked this organized since the day he had finished constructing it. Who would have done this? Not Madame Giry, she had moved with little Meg to the Opera House in Rome after he had assured her that Christine would be in safe hands with him, even though Madame Giry already knew he would not let any harm befall her. He hardly believed she would come all that way from Rome just to tidy up his home. The Persian? No, he highly doubted that. Nadir never cleaned for anyone but himself, and plus, the room was cleaned with a woman's touch, that was obvious. But it certainly wasn't Christine. . .

He turned towards his organ, needing a moment to think. Once again, he was struck by how clean and gleaming the organ was, but this time he felt his breath hitch as his eyes fell on something laying across the keys, looking elegant and gentle with its red petals contrasting with the black and white keys underneath it. He picked up the rose with shaking fingers, and studying the stem, he felt his eyes water as he lightly stroked the black ribbon. He pressed the rose to his chest, realization striking him full-force. His heart began racing as he pushed himself up from his bench, so many thought rushing through his head that he feared he might topple over.

He walked towards Christine's bedroom with trembling legs, trying to see beyond the black veil. She had come back. She had come to his home, on her own free will. He had pushed her away so many times, and she had still come back to him. He would not push her away, not this time. If she was truly back, he would give himself to her, uncaring of the risk of once again having his heart ripped out.

He finally reached the black veil, and leaned his head towards the fabric to listen for noises inside. He felt his breath quicken as he heard the rustle of sheets, and unable to wait any longer, reached up with trembling fingers to slide back the veil. As the veil parted, it was as if the angels were opening the door to a hidden angel. He felt his knees weaken and a light whimper escape his lips as he studied his angel, looking completely angelic as she laid curled on top of the bed, the sheets drawn to her middle, reading one of Erik's books.

She had changed into a slender dark green gown Erik had made, which had white trim lightly accenting the fairly low neckline. Her chestnut curls were cascading over her shoulders with sheer elegance, and her porcelain skin seemed to glow with the light of her brown eyes which were focused intently on the book in her delicate hands. Her gaze shifted to the man standing at the foot of her bed, and a broad smile crossed her features as she gently placed the book on the gleaming bureau. "Hello Erik. I guess you want to know how I got here? I chased after you when you left the apartment, and was planning on sneaking in behind you when you entered in the Rue Scribe, but then you turned around and left, so I just climbed in."

Erik felt his knees weaken under her gaze as he walked hastily to the side of her bed, kneeling before her with an apologetic expression crossing his visage. She smiled gently as she gazed upon Erik with tender eyes, and reached out for his hand. He obeyed, and weakly placed his hand in hers. He closed his eyes as she gently squeezed his hand, but quickly opened them as he felt her pull him closer, beckoning for him to come into the bed.

"Please, sit with me Erik. I think some things need to be discussed."

Once again, he obliged, unable to deny his angel anything. He stood from his position and slid into the bed next to Christine, careful not to let himself touch her in any way other than their clasped hands. It was entirely improper as it was, she was, after all, still engaged to the Vicomte. He opened his mouth to speak, the same hot jealously rising in his voice as before. "Christine, I highly doubt whether-.."

"Erik, . ." Her voice cut through his sentence, and he instantly fell silent, knowing an explanation was on its way. He felt her squeeze his hand once again, and he gently mirrored the action, letting her know he would stay quiet. She smiled at him knowingly, before beginning to speak.

"Raoul doesn't have a clue I'm here. I told Nadir to tell him I went to stay with one of the chorus girls on the outskirts of France because I was too shaken up by the whole event. Which was, as you can see, entirely untrue." She gestured to the room around her, then took his other hand in hers. Erik continued to stay speechless, though he yearned to question every word coming out of her mouth to tell if it was true.

"You pushed me away from you three times, Erik, and I still came back. No matter how many times you push me away, for whatever reason, I will always come back to you. Because I love you, Erik, and there's no one else that I could ever bear to give my heart to." Finally, Erik felt it necessary to speak, and turned to her with bitter misery in his eyes. She seemed to shrink back from his gaze.

"But I am certain you've given your body to that fop several times, or am I mistaken?" The words flew from his mouth before he knew they were coming, and he felt a wave of regret as she drew back from him in shock, releasing his hands as she looked at him with distaste, completely offended. "How dare you? I would never! I planned to save my body for a person whom I truly loved, but if you would like me to give myself to Raoul, then how could I ever deny you your wish?" Her words were coated with hate, and Erik felt heat rush to his cheeks as he shifted his gaze, sorry for his words but not completely forgiving for her actions. "Forgive me Christine, I am sorry for my words. But you told him you loved him. You called my face hardly a face. I never forgot that Christine, your words echoed in my head for months. And you come to me with words of love?"

He heard her sigh beside him, and he turned to look at his angel as she turned to face the ceiling, avoiding his gaze as much as possible. "I was a foolish child. Raoul only saw me as his Little Lotte, and I only saw him as the boy who saved my scarf from the sea. I love him, you're correct, but not the way you presume. I love him the way girl loves a brother, or a childhood friend. Raoul is both to me, and I could not imagine living a life of no love with a boy in a man's body. He does not see me as a woman, he sees me as a child he needs to protect. Sometimes he is utterly sickening, and I found myself..longing for your embrace instead of his, when I was in his arms." Erik looked at her in disbelief as she turned to look at him once again, pleading replacing the anger which had been in her eyes minutes before. It took him a minute to speak, but finally he stumbled out what he was trying to say. "You..longed for me?" He couldn't comprehend it! At that moment, he wanted to hate her. To spare himself from the lies she was obviously speaking.

"Yes, although I didn't know it was you I longed for until you walked in on me and Raoul in Nadir's living room, but then I realized you were what I needed all those years." She gave a wide smile as Erik continued to stare in disbelief, not sure what he was expected to say. She slid closer to him on the bed, once again taking his hand in hers. He felt like a flimsy puppet, completely under Christine's control. But it was sheer bliss.

She pressed against him, her body molding perfectly against his, and Erik surrendered his doubts. He felt a familiar fire rise within him, and he was no longer the flimsy puppet. He released her hand, and she gave a cry of protest until he began to snake his arm around her waist, pressing her as tight against him as he could without hurting her. She felt so small in his arms, he held her delicately as if scared she might break. He caressed the smooth skin of her back, praising himself that he had made the dress open-backed. He felt her shudder against him, and he drew back as he looked into her eyes. He expected to see fear in her eyes, but they were glazed over with pure lust and love. She opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off as his mouth descended on hers, needing her more than ever.

For a while, they stayed like that, locked in each other's embrace, unable to resist the passion that only they together had wrought, until Christine pulled back, chest heaving. Erik looked at her in confusion, and once again leaned down to kiss her, but she placed a finger against his lips, and smiled softly, her lips flaming from his heated kisses. "As much as I want this, Erik, I am a Christian. And I cannot-.."

She blushed, and Erik nodded. He forced himself, shakily, to rise from the bed, and Christine looked at him guiltily as she helped him up.

"Im sorry Erik, because I know I led you on, and- and it wasn't exactly right. .." She trailed off, hoping he wouldn't become angry.

But he just shook his head, and smiled. Christine was momentarily stunned by the transformation a simple smile could make. It was as if all his pains had disappeared, and if the harsh realities of life had never presented themselvesto him. She decided he needed to smile more. He kissed her lightly on the cheek, almost tentatively, before going to the curtain.

"I understand, Christine. It's not proper. I will leave you. Good night." But Christine stopped him with a hand on his arm, and he turned to her in surprise. He gave her a questioning glance, to which she answered with a smile. "Just because I can't. . .you know what I mean, doesn't mean you have to leave." To Christine's surprise, he seemed scared when she said this, and Christine wondered if maybe he was. . frightened of her. He had certainly backed away from her enough times to convince her of the fact. She blushed as she struggled to correct her mistake.

"Never mind, of course you don't want to, after just having to deal with Raoul and everything.You should have told me, and I wouldn't have-.." He cut her off with a light laugh. Christine was shocked, and had to tell herself to closeher gaping mouth. His laugh was deep and light and irresistibly rich, and it was enough to set Christine's knees to trembling.

"Christine, you mistake me. I was only afraid that. . .my-..urges would get the better of me." At this Christine blushed a deeper crimson, and cast her eyes to the floor. "Oh, well, never mind then. You're right, of course." She thought it was rather silly, for she knew he would be more than willing to lay with her had it been three weeks prior. But, then again, she reminded herself, that was different. That was when she knew nothing but lust. Now that she knew she loved him, she probably would be as helpless against her urges as he was. He smiled, before turning and disappearing through the curtain with a curt, slightly wavering goodnight.

She sighed as she turned back to her bed, and with a low moan collapsed onto the silk bedspread and slipped into oblivion.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXx

Erik sat in his bedroom, staring at the floor, trying to see everything but seeing nothing. He had tried to sleep, but sleep simply would not come. For two hours, he had either laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling, or sitting up, staring at the floor. Not that there was much difference in appearance between the two, since it was black as. . .well, night. He groaned in despair, before falling back against the silk coverlet of his bed. All he had to do was close his eyes, and just lay there. . .and eventually. . .

He sprang up from his bed with annoyance, and began pacing the length of his bedroom. Each step, each groan the underground lair made, and each heaving breath he made seemed to scream Christine's name, and seemed to whisper details about her eyes, her hair, her mouth. . .

Finally, unable to take it any longer, and hardly pausing to think about whether he would be waking Christine or not, he ran to her room, nearly tripping overa candelabra in the process, and pulled back the black satin curtain covering the entryway to Christine's room. She didn't stir, and Erik could see nothing of her but her mass of brown curls sprawled across the pillow. Erik was nearly shaking with desire, as he watched her chest heave up and down with each breath, but he forced himself to remain calm. Gently, very gently, he pulled back the cover of the comforter, and slipped into the bed next to her. Finally, she stirred, and started as she saw him laying beside her. "Erik." Her voice was still clouded with sleep, and he muttered a quick apology for awaking her. He tried to put on a nonchalant face, but his nervousness showed through, even in the dark. Christine smiled, understanding, and brought her arms around his neck. He stiffened, the thin material of her nightgown laying against his bare chest and her warmth seeping through, but slowly brought his arms around her waist, hoping she wouldn't draw back. She settled against him, body molded to his, and, lullabied by the sound of his breathing at her ear, she slipped into a dreamless sleep.

XX

Sorry I changed it so much, but i think it makes it better now that she hasn't lost her virginity. I really didn't intend to add that so early on.

By the way, if there are any slight storyline errors in the following chapters, about that happening even though it didn't, please just tell me in a PM and i'll fix it. Thanks!