Thanks to everyone for their reviews! We probably have about 10 chapters remaining. Thank you all for reading. Glad you liked the story.

Noir47

The Goddess stood before Erik for a long moment, her sari left in a pile at her feet. His body tensed with each passing second, with each pulse of blood through his veins. His eyes widened as he unabashedly drank her into his mind, savoring every inch of her.

His expression of total disbelief continued as she lifted one leg and entered the tub, her eyes locked on his, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She offered him more than he ever expected to receive in his miserable life. The longer he gazed upon her the more he wondered if the beating he had survived several days ago had sent him into delirium. There was no other valid explanation for what he saw before his eyes.

While he gaped in a mixture of delight and absolute terror, The Goddess stood in the water a moment, her legs adjusting to the temperature before she lowered to her knees.

Erik moved immediately, first pulling his legs apart, then thinking better of it and drawing his knees up to his chest to allow her more room. All the while he stared at her, his eyes struggled to remain on her face now that she was sharing the same intimate space as he.

The Goddess took a small silver pitcher from a shelf beside the tub and dipped it into the water.

"Lean forward," she instructed smoothly. "Close your eyes and keep your head down."

Erik did as he was told and felt a warm rush of water cascade onto his head. Once his hair was damp, he felt her hands gently massage his scalp.

Her touch sent a tingle through his body, a wave of pleasure like nothing he had ever experienced before. He felt himself leaning forward, his body soothed by the small circles her fingers made through his hair.

The Goddess kept one hand on his shoulder as she slowly poured water over his head, rinsing his hair clean.

-o-

She wondered if he could feel her hands trembling as she touched him.

The Goddess looked away as he rubbed his eyes. It was unspeakably intimate, unimaginably pleasurable to run her fingers through his wet hair. Erik was still losing strands of his dark locks, but he looked healthier already since he had eaten and slept some

Still, he was apprehensive in her presence. The Goddess placed the pitcher on the tile floor and rested both hands on his shoulders. She studied his face and his downcast eyes, the beads of water still clinging to his long lashes. He was breathing so hard that she could feel his hot breath each time he exhaled.

Without a sound she kissed him on the left cheek, drew back, and kissed him again on the right cheek. His eyes lifted to meet hers as she ran her thumb along his lips and brushed the water away.

"Enough," he whispered as he took her gently by the wrist. He entwined his fingers with hers and kissed the back of her hand in a prolonged gesture of his affection.

"You do not command me," she said once he released her.

Erik made no reply. He looked her face over, his hand reaching up to touch her cheek.

As much as she wanted to swat his hand away and forbid him from touching her, The Goddess said nothing. She merely looked into his eyes and turned toward the warmth of his touch.

Her eyes closed as he ran his thumb from her cheek down to her chin. She heard a splash of water and felt him move, but she kept her eyes closed, willing him to do as he wished.

A towel draped over her shoulders, causing her to open her eyes at once. She gave him a questioning look to which he replied with a slight smile.

Slowly, she sat back in the tub, her legs attempting to find room beside his.

Erik moved to accommodate her, looking respectfully away. Once seated, she pulled her knees up to her chest, crossing her feet at the ankles as her time as The Goddess faded away like the steam rising from the tub, replaced by a shy girl peering out from behind the eyes of a woman.

The charade was over.

She sighed, her hands rubbing over her knees. "How long have you known?" she asked, avoiding his eyes.

"Known what?" Erik questioned.

"Who I was," she asked quietly.

He sat in silence for a moment, his own legs drawn up so that they sat somehow separated even in close proximity.

"I don't know," he answered as he glanced up to meet her eyes.

"Are you disappointed?" she whispered.

"I am in no position to be disappointed," he answered. He paused, his hands squeezing into fists. "I thought you would forget me."

"You hoped I would forget you," she corrected, biting off her words.

"That's not true," he replied. He stared at her, long and hard. "I wanted what was best for you."

"Is that why you did it?"

"I thought it was for the best. I hoped you would forget me."

The ropes binding his wrists cut into his flesh, rubbing away skin with each futile movement. Somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind, Erik knew there was no escape. She would torture him for hours, days perhaps, and then she would kill him.

She was going to kill him in the slowest, most meticulous way possible, in a way so horrendous that his mind couldn't begin to comprehend what lay ahead.

The brush ran up to his hairline and along his temple.

"What was it about her, Frenchman? Her unmatched beauty?"

Erik swallowed, tasting blood in the back of his throat. He fought again, hoping for a miracle to aid his escape.

"You are young, you are virile, Frenchman. Perhaps if you had done as I demanded these things would not happen," the Sultana said. "You could have had many beautiful women, many willing virgins in your bed. Imagine that, Frenchman, a new woman each night."

Her words meant nothing to him. He never wanted a new woman each night. His mind wrapped around the only image that brought him joy, that gave him hope. He thought only of Corinna, of her gentle caress, of her soft lips, of her coy smile.

"I could kill you," the Sultana continued. "Or I could send you to hell. Your existence depends on my decision, Frenchman. Does it frighten you?"

"Kill me," he exhaled.

"Kill you? I could very well kill you. How would you suggest I end your life?"

The familiar cold of a sharpened blade touched his throat. Erik wrenched his arms down, attempting to free his arms from the chains.

"I could watch you drown in your own blood," the Sultana said. "But it would be over too swiftly. I think you're worth more than that. I could watch you for days, my dearest Frenchman. For days and days, just as I watched men wander through your creations."

His struggling stopped when something heavy and blunt hit him in the chest and stole the air from his lungs. Fear of death became immediate panic, as he could no longer breathe.

"The worst is yet to come," the Little Sultana promised.

Corinna reached forward and grabbed Erik's wrist. "How could I forget you?" she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes.

Erik stared at his hands, at her fingers wrapped around his wrist. For fifteen years he had hidden from the world, his desires slowly dying away. The more he attempted to convince himself that he needed nothing the more his heart ached to feel something, anything in the world.

Corinna loosened her grip. "I've spent years searching for you."

His eyes met hers as he shook his head, unwilling to believe her.

"I've been everywhere in Paris, constantly walking the streets in search of you, looking down alleys, in shadows, everywhere. I asked anyone who would stop if they knew you, but no one knew your name." She stopped and closed her eyes. "And then I heard about the haunting."

Erik shifted suddenly and their eyes met. "You knew?"

"I was there," she replied. "That night when you were on stage, I was there with the Daroga."

Erik turned away, ashamed to meet her eye. "I had no idea."

It was quick. A simple, brilliant flash of light and unbearable heat. Despite the excruciating pain in his chest Erik managed to scream, body thrashing wildly as flames consumed the right side of his face. The smell of kerosene faded as the putrid stench of burning flesh and hair filled his nostrils.

He had no idea when the flames were extinguished or who had doused him with water. He had no idea that the carriages were in line preparing to leave. He didn't even realize he had been moved, chained to a tree and left to die from hunger, dehydration, or infection.

Nothing existed. His right eye was burned, his left singed from smoke. His body beaten and bruised, left bloodied and exhausted.

There was nothing but agony without end, pain so intense he thought he would die and prayed for the moment when his heart slowed and a deep, dreamless sleep gave way to death.

He had no idea when he started to cry, or when the sound of his aguish drew the attention of a driver and a coach riding through the night.

He knew nothing at all.

Until a hand touched his left shoulder, lifted his chin, and muttered something Erik couldn't hear. Then a man shouted to cut him down immediately, and at once the sounds around him faded into nothing.

He had started to shake while they sat in silence, which immediately alarmed Corinna. His eyes looked so distant, his face taut, lips straight. She reached for another towel and stepped out of the tub, wrapping herself in cotton warmth.

"Come," she said, reaching for his hand. "You should rest."

He looked up at her for a moment, his eyes searching her face. "Why did you search for me?"

Corinna handed him his robe. "There are fresh clothes on your bed. Dry yourself."