A/N: Readers you must remember this a mature reading and there are sex scenes in this story.

He was panting hard as he came in and out of her body. He was not soft or gentle, but rough and fast. She could see the anger in his eyes from the cause of something unknown. Shortly after she had arrived, he had come to her hungry for her body. She had tried to speak, but he quieted her by the sudden force of his lips against hers. He only did this when he was enraged or annoyed by something or someone. He gave no reason and she asked for none. She entertained him and he rewarded her. It was a simple yet complicated relationship.

The man she had learned to call "Erik" finished with one final thrust, bringing her to the brink of madness. She remembered when she would try not to feel pleasure from this man. She believed her job was to give him pleasure, nothing more. The attempt failed miserably once he touched her. She burned for him as much as he burned for her. They felt no love only lust. The first night he took her to his bed he was gentle like a lover. As time past, it changed. When is temper flared he was rough. When he was in a good mood, mostly from seeing his pupil Christine Daae, he was tender. There was never a time he rejected Rose Porter. What man could? She was beyond beautiful, desirous in every possible way. Once she too was finished he climbed off, pulling his clothes on and leaving before he finished buttoning his shirt.

Rose wiped the sweat off her face and pulled her hair into a bun. Her dress lied on the floor, the bodice ripped open. She took the dress and slipped it on, holding it up with her hand. As always she made the bed before leaving the room. She walked out to view the underground lake. A blanket of fog covered the lake, giving it a haunting feeling. The candles cast shadows all around. Papers cluttered the floor either crumbled or had fallen from the majestic organ that sat in the middle of his domain. Rose turned her head towards Erik, watching his thrilling fingers creating sweet music with his organ. He was lost in the music, a whole other world away. His eyes were closed as his head swayed with the notes. Rose grinned. He was half angel, half devil. The angelic side created a phenomenal beauty with his bare hands, a beauty that brought both sorrow and ecstasy. His devilish side brought forth a darkness that frightened her. He was dangerous. The Phantom he titled himself. From first glance he appeared peaceful, but Rose knew that during these times when his anger could be felt, he needed to be handled with caution.

"Come to me Rose." His intoxicating voice called to her. She aroused from her thoughts once the melodious voice of his snuck into her ears. He did not turn to see if she would come. He knew she would as she had and always would.

Her footsteps were faintly herd as she made her way down the steps, passing the disturbing mannequin of Christine Daae and the covered mirrors. She tried covering herself with the tattered dress, but knew it was an ineffectual attempt. She stood on the side his face was covered with his porcelain mask, hiding the grotesque face he was born with. She had seen the misshapen face the night he had taken her to his realm from the roof. He had tore it off to see her scream, to give him a look of disgust, to run, but Rose stood there only flinching at first from being off guard. He screamed, he yelled, taunting her to call him the beast he was, a monster, but she stood speechless with sorrow in her russet eyes. When he had finally glanced at her face, to see the disgust he was sure was there, he froze. There she had stood as beautiful as an angel, desirous in all possible ways. His eyes had begun to fill with tears. She had not seen them begin to rush out of his eyes for he then fell to the floor, kissing her feet whispering "why?" He continued to sob, causing his body to tremble. She bent over, bringing her small finger under his chin, lifting it to have his distorted, pitiful face look into her god-given face. His eyes had never left hers when she came down to her knees caressing the tangled flesh. Only when she came to put her lips on his mangled flesh did he closed his eyes. He felt the warmth of her skin and breath causing him to shiver. He opened his eyes once he sensed her lips leaving his skin finding her still watching him. He barely glanced as her arms came around his neck pulling his mouth to hers. The kiss was tender and careful. She pulled back searching his eyes for permission. She took a deep breath knowing there was no going back, but fiercely put her mouth on his. From there they did not stop. The passion, the fire was release and they had barely made it to the bedroom. Her dress was ripped into shreds, but the rest was gentle and careful. Rose was sure he was as innocent as her, but she did not ask. The one thrust that snatched away both their innocence altered their lives for eternity.

Rose waited for him as he expected of her. He finished a piece of music, wrote the notes down on paper, and laid his pen down. She feared what was to be said. He had been more "out of sorts" since her arrival late the night before. "I am giving you a task to follow Rose." She bit her lip from protesting. "You must keep people away from Christine's room, and must cover for her. She will be missing after tonight's' performance and I do not want people to panic. You do not need to know exactly where her…"

"Erik you cannot be serious! Think of what you are doing. The girls in the dormitories will notice Christine gone and spoil her reputation…"

"I know what I am doing!" He roared as he stood up, flipping his piano bench over. Rose did not flinch. She was used to his anger. "Tonight is the night Christine knows who I am. She will see her Angel's face." He grabbed Rose's hand pulling her against his chest. The pain was horrible. Her wrist felt as if it was about to break. She was used to him hurting her and so she did not scream. Erik roughly took her face and rested his cold cheek against hers, speaking softly, "and you will not ruin tonight for me Rose. I have planned this for quite sometime and I will not let some whore stand in my way. Do you understand me?" She did not speak. "Do you understand me?" He squeezed her wrist harder.

"Yes," She whispered, her eyes shut.

"Good." He pushed her to the ground. "You will do as I say. Create some story if you have to of Christine's whereabouts." He flipped his bench back over and sat down, stretching his fingers as if Rose was not still on the floor. Casually he stated, "You should hurry to practice Rose. You wouldn't want to be late."

He began to play not hearing her say, "Yes Erik" and her leaving.

The music was playing loud along with the horrible screeching of their Spanish Prima Donna, La Carlotta. Rose was beyond late. Hurrying to the dormitories with her rip dress was a struggle. She had left it on the floor carelessly, stressed to find her Hannibal costume. As she sprinted down a hallway, she was scrambling to finish putting on her ballet slippers when she bumped into a man. "Sorry Monsieur." She said, at first not looking up, preoccupied with the slipper.

"It's fine Mademoiselle," the man said, trying to peek at Rose's face. Rose looked up to the face of a young man with golden hair flowing to his shoulders. His blue eyes were filled with warmth. He wore a long leather coat with fine men's clothing underneath. She recognized him at once.

"Raoul," She half whispered. A puzzled look swept across his face, but after a few moments, recognition took place on his face.

"Rose. I did not recognize you at first. It has been quite some time." He bowed. Rose was too shock to notice. She had not seen her almost fiancée for three years. The last of his boyish features were gone and he appeared a man. But a hint of his youthful self was set in the dark sapphire eyes. "You look wonderful," he said as his eyes grazed across her luscious body, more desirous than he remembered. She had always been beautiful, but this time, there were no words to describe her exquisiteness.

"Thank you," She smiled. A silence fell upon them. They felt awkward seeing each other again. The last time they had been in each other's presence was the announcement of the arranged marriage to him. Rose had screamed she would never marry Raoul and left him blushing furiously, his mother's mouth open, and her grandmother looking like she had just sucked a sour lemon. He had always been handsome to her and a dear friend, but marriage was not an option for her at the moment. Her career and her freedom were the too important to her. "May I ask what are you doing here? Surely your mother would not approve of her son walking backstage of an opera house?"

"I am here because I have become the new patron of the opera house. There are also two new owners and had asked my family to be patrons, since my parents and I are supporters of the fine arts. I had forgotten you worked here." It did not escape Rose's notice of how Raoul emphasized the word "worked", but she said nothing about it. He had always spoken strongly of his dislike of her being at an opera house vulnerable to the wretchedness of men who advance on her. He had wanted to sweep her away from that world and bring her back to the world she was born to live. She looked up into his familiar eyes that she had known since girlhood. The de Chagny's and the Cherbourg's had been family friends for a long time and Raoul and Rose had grown up together until he left for school in England. The Parisian Aristocracy had expected their marriage, it had been plan since the day Rose was born, but when Rose bluntly refused the proposal she had stunned all of Paris.

"How wonderful." She sweetly said. Silence once again. "Well I should be going. I am late as it is for practice. Take care of yourself," She dipped into a curtsey and was about to hurry on when Raoul called out to her.

"Rose. Would you join me for dinner tonight? We can catch up with one another." She did not speak at first. She had to preoccupy the girls while Christine was with Erik.

"I would love to, but I can't. I am unavailable tonight." She smiled at him. She could see the disappointment on his face, but knew better than going out with him. "Goodbye Raoul."

"Goodbye Rose," She did not hear him for she had turned the corner, racing to practice.