Erik blinked twice, absorbing her refusal, and pulled away from her. "No? You mean-?"
Christine looked at him, her face so beautiful and tired. Her eyes held his, sorrowful but determined to make him understand. "No, Erik, I can't. I won't."
His eyes narrowed, not understanding, frustrated, quick to anger. "Why, Christine? Because I can't afford you?"
Christine closed her eyes, tensing as if she expected violence. Erik's voice was harsh as he stepped closer to her, taking her wrists in a firm grip. He held her, demanding answers, justification.
She pulled her wrists from his hands, only to have him take her by the shoulders, bracing her arms. "Erik, please, stop it," she pleaded in a small voice as she tried to pull away from him, raising her hands to his forearms. He was so much stronger than her. She didn't want to upset Erik further, but he was holding her firmly and would not let go.
"I'll stop when you answer me. I've done so much, I deserve to know why you've told me no!" He growled, advancing. Christine took a step back for every step he took toward her, until her back met the wall. His grip seemed to tighten, yet his voice and face had softened considerably.
"Why, Christine?" He asked softly. Erik released one of her arms and brought his hand to her cheek. Simply, he brushed her cheekbone with the backs of his fingers. He watched as Christine shivered under his touch. When he spoke, his voice was husky with longing, coaxing. "You know we could be good together…"
Her lashes had fluttered under his touch, her body leaned into his. Erik's hand snaked down her side to bring her closer, pressing her breasts against his chest, his leg brushed high against her bare thigh.
Christine felt herself sinking, falling into him. He was holding her, his voice was warm against her ear. Erik's hands grazed over her, the first gentle touch she'd felt in years. It was easy, too easy to slip into his trap, to let herself believe that she could ever be his woman.
I can't do this.
Her eyes opened to flare against his own, somehow finding the strength to resist him. "No, Erik,"
He glared at her, anger, frustration and passion gathered in his gaze. The hand that that caressed her cheek moved down, over her delicate throat, his fingertips brushed her collarbone. She read the intent in his eyes, but she could not stop him as he moved against her.
Erik's lips were hot and hard against hers, drowning Christine in her own exposed need. His tongue slipped past the seam of her lips, coaxing and caressing; he did not allow Christine to remain passive beneath him. He wanted her alive in his arms, he wanted her to feel him and know that he pleasured her; he wanted her in his life, in his bed.
She touched him, her hands splayed across his chest. She'd been hesitant at first, terribly unsure of herself. Erik heard her female whimpers, he understood that she had been through so much, more than any woman deserved. It wasn't fair. Even as he kissed her, touched her, Erik knew that her past was still powerful enough to keep her from future happiness with him.
Erik ended the kiss, but his face remained close to hers. She could feel his breath against her cheek, they were both panting. Her hands were still resting on his chest, as his were holding fast to the curve of her waist. Christine breathed against him, reeling from the kiss. She wanted to cry from the gentle passion with which he held her, and from the knowledge that it would never happen again.
"Be mine, Christine," Erik implored. His words shattered the silent calm, forcing her back to her senses.
As realization returned, Christine began to struggle against him, pulling away like a frightened animal. "No, Erik, let me go," she demanded, suddenly furious, ready to kick and scratch Erik if he tried to subdue her again. Christine tried to run towards the door, Erik reached out to catch her around the waist, but for once he was not quick enough when Christine's hand connected with his face.
It was a quick movement, too quick, and not even so powerful a strike against him. Still, Christine's wild hit was enough to dislodge his secret.
Erik watched as his mask, his perfection porcelain, shattered on the floor. He did not mourn the loss of the mask- he'd acquired a collection over the decades; there were several replacements on hand. But there was only one Christine in all the world.
Her eyes held his as she took in the sight of his bare face. She had not gasped, she had not recoiled from him even as he still held her arm. Her expression had stilled, and then softened. "My God, Erik, what happened to you?"
He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. I've forced her to confront her past, now I must confront mine. We are both exposed and raw now, I will not let her shame me with her pity!
Erik opened his eyes to see that Christine had moved a step closer, bringing them a step closer to being together. He sighed heavily, feeling very tired and very foolish. Erik looked at her, relieved to see only compassion in the azure of her gaze. She was not disgusted by him, she was not afraid.
Christine's lovely face compelled him to answer. Idly, Erik wondered if he would ever kiss those lips again. Erik didn't want to talk. The only words he wanted to hear were hers, agreeing to be his. Her hair was off her neck, elegantly twisted at her nape; he wanted to see her with her hair down. The dress she wore was backless, he'd felt her skin burning beneath his hands as he'd held her.
No. Talking was certainly the last thing he wanted to do, but he owed her the truth.
Erik took a breath to get himself back under control. "You once had a family that loved you, Christine. I was not so lucky."
He glanced down at the shattered pieces of his mask and scowled. The scars bunched and stretched when he did, only emphasizing the marred side of his face. Christine's mouth worked for a moment before she could speak. "Tell me what happened,"
He smiled at that, somehow finding humor in the situation. "I would, but wouldn't it be more exciting to have Maddrox bring down the police files? I still haven't thanked him properly for bringing me yours,"
Christine took a deep breath and tried, desperately, to come to terms with Erik's fully exposed face. It wasn't that he was so ugly, it was only that she had grown so accustomed to his mask that she had come to think of it as being a part of his real face. She had to understand now, as she glanced down at the porcelain littering the floor, that the scarred, half-destroyed face before her was the real man, naked and exposed.
She swallowed and forced her eyes to hold his. "It's not funny, just tell me, Erik. Please,"
He ticked his head to the side in irritation. "You want to know? Fine. It's only fair, after what I did." Erik moved to her then, and took her hand, pressing it to his face. He closed his eyes and paused, allowing her to absorb the feel of his skin, the warped texture of the scars.
Christine moved her fingertips over the side of his face. It seemed to her that there was one long slash down his face, starting from his hairline, going down his forehead, dividing his eyebrow, catching his cheek and traveling down to stop just over the pulse point in his neck.
The skin surrounding the central scar was pitted, stretched, mottled. At once, her touch changed. No longer assessing, her hand caressed him, cupping his cheek. Christine held him as he'd held her, and she brought her lips to his.
The kiss was soft, fleeting. "Tell me," she breathed. Erik took her in his arms, allowing her head to rest on his shoulder. He breathed her scent.
He took a deep breath, and told her his story- his voice was curt, without emotion. Empty, as hers had been. Christine understood; some memories were too difficult to relive, often it was easier to rattle off quick, simple facts. "My mother. She was…unwell. Voices. Hallucinations. She cut me, and I have no doubt she would have killed me if I hadn't been able to fight her off. She didn't use a knife, it was a piece of rusted metal, I think. I tried to take care of her, but she was too far gone. She attacked me again once she realized that I'd called the police." He paused. "Maddrox was the officer on duty. He was there to help me during the time I spent in hospital, being treated for the tissue infections she'd caused."
Christine clung to him, he could feel her heaving against him slightly. Crying, but trying not to let on. Erik bent his head and pressed his lips to her shoulder.
"You see, Christine? We are not so different, we were meant for each other," He released her from his arms and cupped her cheek, lifting her eyes to his. He smiled and kissed her. "There's no need to cry, smile for me."
Again, she pulled from him. "Oh, God, Erik. I'm not crying because I'm happy, I'm crying because nothing has changed. Don't you understand? If I'm with you, if I let you take over…God, Erik, I'd be just like her, depending on someone else to run my life. I'd rather die!"
Erik watched as his door swung shut behind Christine- she'd left him, just as all the others had left him. Wait, no. This was different. Adele, he had enjoyed his time with her, just as he had enjoyed his time with her predecessors Lara, Mary and Claire. He knew his own nature- he was kind and generous to his lovers, but he had never been able to feel a genuine love for them in return.
Women were intuitive, they had known how he felt before he had. They knew that Erik could more or less go through the motions of love without burdening himself with real feelings. His past lovers had all deserved more from him, and so they had parted when he was not able to give it.
Erik had reasoned it was never that he was an unloving man; rather, he hadn't come to be with a woman whom he loved. Love just hadn't found him, as it were.
He knew then, with the click of the door, that it had found him in the form of that broken, untrusting young woman. Christine. Erik started off across the living room and threw open the door. She was not in the hallway, he moved to the elevator and jabbed impatient fingers at the buttons.
I have to find her, what the hell was I thinking to just let her go?! I have to make her listen to me, understand that I- Oh, God, I do! I've let myself fall for that infuriating girl!
Erik almost laughed out loud at his own stupidity as the elevator chamber rushed down the shaft towards the lobby. He burst from the doors once it landed at the ground floor, his eyes searching for any trace of her. Erik moved out of the building and swung his gaze up and down the length of the street but all that met his eyes was steel and concrete of the city.
No sign of the woman.
Throwing up his arms in frustration, Erik stepped back inside, happy to escape the chill. He looked over to the front desk where the security guard raised an eyebrow at him. "Is everything all right Mr. Latour?" The man was young, perhaps not even 30 yet, but he had been in the field on several overseas missions for the United States marines- working security for an upscale apartment building was a job he could do with his eyes closed.
It was only Erik's knowledge of Jerome's less than pristine past that put him at ease enough to go wandering about the lobby with his face completely bare. Jerome took in Erik's scars without missing a beat. He had seen worse.
Erik shook his head, "No, Jerome. Please, can you tell me, did you see Chris- Miss Daae leave? Do you know which way she went?"
The young man shook his head. "No sir, you've been the only one down here in the last 45 minutes."
Erik's mouth worked for a moment before he could respond. "You mean…? All right, if you just- if you see her, Christine, please, don't let her leave the building. Detain her and alert me, I have to speak with her."
Jerome nodded, "Yes sir."
Frantic, Erik returned to the elevator and ticked his hands as it ushered him back to his floor. He hated the feeling of helplessness that descended down upon him. He wanted Christine, but he had precious few options within his power. Offhand, he didn't know where she lived, but where was she if she hadn't even left the building yet?
In frustration, Erik stormed into his apartment but stopped short as he looked into the living room. Christine was there, by the fire.
All the other lights were out, again, the only illumination came from the flames. She was standing there in soft silhouette. Erik's eyes absorbed the sight before him, cementing his determination to have her. She was standing with her back to him, her arms crossed before her. The dress was backless, he watched the supple line of her spine, long and strong. A blank canvas of beautiful skin, pale gold in the light.
Her feet were caged once again in the unforgiving stilettos. Her long bare legs supported her, slightly parted, adding a hint of defiance to her stance. Her head was bent forward, giving more exposure to the nape of her neck. She had not heard him come in, or perhaps she had, but was afraid to speak for herself.
Erik understood her uncertainty- she both liked and desired him. Surely she must trust him by now, he had never harmed her. She didn't know what to say, she couldn't predict his reaction to her reappearance in his home.
Erik shut the door, alerting her to his return.
She turned to look at him, and he could see it in her eyes. "Erik," she whispered.
He moved across the room, and took her into his arms. Christine sighed in contentment as he held her, she took the folds of his shirt into her hands, holding fast. She breathed against him, safe and warm, just the way he'd always hoped to make her feel. Erik stroked her back, marveling at the feel of hot, golden skin beneath his hands.
My Christine.
The woman pulled back from him slightly, to face him, offering her mouth to his like a sacrifice to the gods. Erik kissed her, pressing her lips with his. He kissed her lips, her cheek, the delicate place just beneath her ear. Christine moaned quietly, encouraging him. He lifted his head. "You're mine now, Christine. Say it, I have to hear you say it," he growled against her throat, kissing her there.
She moaned, "I…ah, Erik-"
His hands moved from her back, down to her waist. She shivered in his grasp, a little afraid of his touch, but very excited. "Say it," he commanded, becoming bolder, turning her in his arms so that her back was against him.
Christine's mind was falling away, drowning until all she knew was the touch of his sure, strong hands on her body. He leaned down to press his teeth into the place where her shoulder sloped up to become her neck, his hand splayed over her stomach- he could feel her quiver against him. Her shuddering intake was almost too much. His other hand skimmed over her breast, just enough to feel it tighten, but he did not linger there.
"Are you mine, Christine?" He asked.
His voice rumbled over and through her. Her eyes flew open and she twisted in his arms, turning to face him, to press her body flush against his. "Yes, I'm yours, Erik," she asserted. Her lips found his, demanding for a kiss.
He moved her to the couch, and brought her to rest over his lap, straddling his hips. Her long legs rested on either side of him, bare and beautiful. Erik's fingertips skimmed the flesh, eliciting whimpers and hitched breath from Christine. It had been such a difficult night for them both- their emotions were raw, all their secrets exposed.
Erik's hands stilled once his fingertips reached the hem of her short dress. No. He would not take her tonight. Not tonight, not after everything they'd forced each other to reveal. It would take time, he knew, and would be much more worth it for the fact. Christine held him, her hands over his shoulders, panting slightly as he nipped her throat, soothing the bites with his tongue.
He calmed himself, no easy task with the object of his desire straddling his lap, but he managed. Erik raised his hands to span her waist, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder- all the better that they both get a hold of themselves before rushing things back into his bedroom where…
Erik shook his head to free himself from the image of Christine in his bed, purring and writhing beneath him. He stroked her back and brought her face forward to his, where he kissed her soundly before lifting her from his lap. His body was tight with need, uncomfortably so; as much as he wanted her, he dared not touch her again for fear that he might take her then and there.
He took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face, through his hair. He looked at her, and smiled. Christine was disheveled, her face flushed and her lips swollen, kiss-bruised. He reached out and took her hand. She seemed unsure, even as he smoothed his thumb over her knuckles. "Erik," she asked, "What happens now?"
He looked up, and pulled her to him. "Anything," he whispered, just as his lips descended down to hers.