DARK SIDE OF THE GLASS
CHAPTER 39
After arriving back at the manor, Anya and Tarrah had gone inside while Erik checked on Sumukhi. A part of him still expected D'Ombre's intelligent black eyes and teasing demeanor to greet him upon entering the stable, but he knew it was never going to be…never again; and his heart ached.
The horse was fine and the young girl that Annette had hired was adequately keeping the stable clean and seemed rather dedicated to his work. Erik found it strange that a girl enjoyed that position, but she seemed very pleased to have it.
"If you would like a full-time, permanent position here, I am offering it to you…I think you would make a wonderful stable master."
The young girl was stunned at the offer – most seemed pleased with her work until they found out she was a girl – then they dismissed her.
"We will discuss wages and such at a later date; in the mean time, there is a small cottage on the back of the property, it is yours should you need it; I know you have a sick mother to tend to and nowhere to go."
There were tears in her eyes, but she quickly reached up and wiped them away with a dirty hand.
"Feel free to let me know what items you require to fix it up and make it into a home…I will see to it that they are procured."
Erik turned to leave, but the young girl's quiet voice stopped him, "My lord, your kindness is the first that I have encountered in a very long time."
Erik cringed at the title – again – but he did not correct her.
"You are welcome; now go, gather your things and take the carriage home, it will make it easier to bring your mother back tomorrow."
She scurried off toward the carriage and Erik smiled at her awkward movements. She was somewhere between child and adolescent; in that slip of time where she was not even sure of her own steps…Erik remembered that time very well.
He knew the head groundskeeper was there and would watch the stables, so he left Sumukhi to her sleep and headed back toward the manor; besides, there were undercover guards constantly watching the manor and property, Erik had seen to it.
The house was quiet. Tarrah had gone to her room and Erik breathed a sigh of relief that she was back under his roof – even if it was for a short time.
He turned down all the lights and locked the doors, then headed up the stairs in search of his wife. He walked into their bedroom and caught sight of her sitting at the dressing table combing her silky hair. He smiled as he leaned against the door jam, crossed his legs at the ankles, and locked his arms across his chest.
"I do not think there is a more beautiful sight in all the world." He murmured, catching her eyes in the mirror as she smiled sensually at him.
He slowly ambled over to her, took the brush from her hands, and began brushing her hair – something he had dreamed of doing for many days.
The erotic feel of his hands gliding across her scalp in rhythm with the brush, caused Anya's body to spark with the embers of desire. Her eyes closed as she gave herself over to the sensations shooting through her.
"Mmmmm, that feels so good." She purred.
She leaned back against his hip, allowing him access to her throat. Erik placed the brush on the table and leaned over her, tracing his lips over the column of her throat and sliding his tongue lazily along the ridge of her jaw.
His hands skimmed up the flat plane of her abdomen and cupped her full breasts from behind, while his lips remained fixed on her neck. Her nightdress did little to hinder his onslaught, and he soon had the flimsy material gathered around her waist as he feasted on her bountiful mounds.
He had moved around to the front of the chair, pulled it away from the table so that it was sideways, and proceeded to seduce her with every skilled flicker of his tongue, every feathery shimmer of his fingers, and every velvet touch of his lips.
He moved his hands to the hem of her gown and lifted it, knowing she wore nothing beneath it. He moved his lips to her knees and worshiped them with his wet, warm tongue – licking his way upward as her thighs parted of their own free will.
This was an illicit dream – a page out of a trashy novel – but Anya had never dreamed she would ever know what it felt like…until now. She braced her elbows on the dressing table, drooped one leg over the back of the chair and watched as her husband became intimately familiar with her nether region.
Erik knelt between her trembling thighs and trickled his fingers over her flesh with the finesse learned from years of caressing the piano keys. She moaned as he followed his fingers with his lips – his only desire was to give her pleasure. In fact, he intended to pleasure her until she screamed out his name and forgot her own; until the threat against him was a distant memory and all that was left was their heated bodies lost in a world that existed only to bring them both pleasure.
The insides of her thighs were as soft as rose petals and Erik nibbled gently on their plump readiness; the scent of her was a part of him; in his mind and on his body - and he knew he would never be rid of it - he did not want to be rid of it; the scent of desire…the scent of desire for him.
Finally, after she writhed in the chair, he slid up her body, wrapped his tongue around each hardened nipple, and picked her up in his arms. He seized her mouth ferociously as he carried her to the bed. Her legs were wrapped around him as he carried her against him - his large hands cupping her naked backside.
She floated down to the bed as he pulled her hips to the edge and sank down to his knees once again. He was still fully clothed and seemed in no hurry to free the engorged swell of his erection painfully visible against the tight material of his pants.
She parted her thighs and allowed him access once again, not willing to loose the torrid ecstasy of his mouth and hands against her swollen, moist, and aching flesh.
As his deft fingers parted her flesh and his tongue took its first sweep of her sweet nectar, Anya lost all ability to think…she laced her fingers through the dark locks of his hair and gently pushed him against her; moaning pleasurably as he delved deeply into her.
He spread her further with his fingers and then lathed his moist tongue over the swollen nub that promised her sweet oblivion. He had never done this before, but he had certainly dreamed of it after reading extensively on the art of making love.
Long and short, fast and slow – he brought her to a slamming orgasm – tasting every dewy drop of her until she stretched with all the grace of Persian cat and practically purred with sated pleasure.
Erik reclined beside her, unsure of when her gown had been removed; but he loved her naked body lying beside him like his own personal love slave.
It did not take but a moment for Anya to turn the tables to her advantage, grasp his fully clothed, fully extended erection in her hand, and begin a slow, steady rhythm that had him snuggling into her hand – eager to find his own release.
She slowly unclasped his pants and struggled to push them down and over his more than ample manhood. Erik obliged by lifting his hips and giving her easier access to his backside; before long, he was fully exposed, proudly erect and beautifully awaiting her command.
She began at his chest, faintly skimming her tongue over his taut nipples and enjoying the rapturous hiss that he did not even try to contain.
She then moved down his soft-skinned, perfectly toned abdomen...she fluttered kisses upon it with such tenderness, that it felt like butterfly wings against his flesh. She delved into the depths of his belly button and could not help but give his tantalizing erection an admiring gaze as she slowly worked her way down to it.
The softness of his skin was in direct contrast to the hard, pulsing demand of the erect flesh that beckoned her with a blushed head. She kissed the downy hair of his abdomen and lathed her tongue over the sensitive flesh atop his hip and pelvic bone - purposefully avoiding his pulsing cock.
She teased him with her tongue and Erik spasmed against her mouth - his body wracked with sensual tremors. She had still not taken his hardness in her mouth or hand, but Erik could feel his own orgasm building.
"Woman...you will be the death of me..." He uttered - his voice coming out like a hoarse whisper.
"Death by sex...sounds like a good way to go." She teased back, and finally glazed her tongue along the upper ridge of his sex.
His head moved from side to side and his hands found her head as she encased his hardness in her mouth; taking his entire length within her warmth.
The moans he let out made Lavanya's body answer with a warm pool of moisture and ready itself for their mating. She moaned deep in her throat, causing the sensation to dance upon his flesh and make him buck against her.
She felt him swelling inside her mouth, and knew he would soon climax…she needed his seed to release deep within her.
Erik must have read her mind and ripped her mouth from his hard staff to bring her beneath him in one quick move; he reached between their pulsing bodies and rubbed the moist surface of her core with the throbbing length of his manhood – teasing her sleek petals to the point of sweet torture.
"Are you ready for me, my love?" he purred into her ear, teasing her by delving the hot, thick head of his erection into her weeping flesh.
To answer him, she wrapped her long legs around his waist and lifted her hips, impaling herself on his hard staff.
Erik shuddered as she buried his length deep within her – and begged him for more. He felt a swell of masculine pride, knowing that his body was the only one she had known…she had saved herself for him.
He withdrew his length, and she moaned in protest; he smirked dangerously and slammed back into her…causing her cry out with staggering whelps of pleasure.
He seized her mouth, conquering her with his swirling tongue as she yielded to him with wanton abandonment. A strangled moan escaped her lips as his skilled mouth slanted over hers and his thick staff pierced her with a reckless, sweet torture that made her body swim with sensations she had never known before.
He pounded into her with a driving force that rivaled a thunderstorm, sending shock waves of pleasure shooting through her – piercing her deeply within her womb.
Her orgasm shot through her with no mercy as Erik relentlessly drove into her until her muscles coaxed his rock-hard staff with such inviting and exquisite pressure, that he poured himself into her – stroke after stroke until he was spent.
Still holding him within her, she rolled atop him, kissed his chest, and then gently moved her lips over his.
"I love you." She whispered, after releasing his lips. "Something tells me that your baby will grow within me because of tonight."
Erik pulled back and looked her deeply in the eyes. A smile began formed on his mouth that was unlike any she had ever seen on him, and a single, silver tear trickled down his perfect cheek.
"I never thought any woman would ever want to make love with me, let alone have my baby." He kissed her forehead and hugged her to him, "In a matter of weeks, you have made all my dreams come true."
There were tears in his eyes as he claimed her mouth in a tender kiss full of all the love he felt within his heart…love he would never fail to show her every day for the rest of their lives.
♣♠♦♥
Life took on a whole new meaning a few days later when an almost fully recovered Mr. Gibbs answered the door to find Raoul and Phillip standing in the pouring rain.
"Erik asked us to come by - said it was an urgent matter - is he in?"
Mr. Gibbs nodded solemnly and showed them into the study. A few minutes later, Erik strode into the room with a nod of his head and a friendly greeting on his lips.
"Gentlemen, thank you for coming." Erik stated, "Where is Nikolai?"
"He had some urgent business come up in his family, so he had to go back to Russia; but he did confirm the information that you gave me to give to him."
Erik moved further into the room and immediately went over to the large, carved mahogany desk. He leaned over it and retrieved a letter from the middle drawer, then he sat down upon the surface – one foot dangling, and the other fixed firmly on the floor.
He had a straightforward look on his exposed features and a stern set to his full mouth, he looked every inch the nobleman they now knew him to be.
Erik once again scanned the written contents with a scowl draped over his handsome features. Raoul approached him and looked at the letter from Erik's extended hand, eyeing him warily before taking it from him.
"I received this letter today…by messenger."
Raoul immediately recognized Pieter's handwriting and an icy chill crept up his spine.
"I can think of only one advantage that we have – he does not expect us to be communicating in any way – as far as he knows, we cannot stand each other." Erik noticed that the brothers both agreed, "I am not obtuse enough to believe that Yves remains unaware of my knowledge of who he is and our shared blood."
Raoul looked back down at the letter and read aloud;
"Erik,
Have I hurt you enough, my love? He was a beautiful animal, to be sure…but then, so are you. I wish it could have been me that administered the pain, Erik…I wish I could have seen your face and watched the love you had for him become so visible…you will soon give that love to me."
Raoul had to pause and swallow the bile that threatened to come up…he gave a quick, sorrowful look at Erik and continued.
"Your staff was supposed to die – every one of them – but you came home early, you sly dog, and surprised me before I could finish the job.
You taught me, Erik…you taught me to be an elegant misfit…just like you. You are too good for them…too beautiful. I will give you the love you seek if you will come back to me.
They are all just playing with you; they laugh at you behind your back and call you a monster; but they whore after your talents and feed off your brilliance like vultures on a rotting carcass.
I believe there is an orphanage in town that you are rather fond of; be there tomorrow night at 9' o'clock. If you do not come, the orphanage – and all within it – will be dispensed with – as proficiently and effortlessly as the hospital was dispensed with.
There is also the matter of your quite lovely, unobtainable wife. I have seen you look at her, but she will never love you - only I can do that. She is as deceptive and betraying as all women are. She has even befriended that witch from the opera house, the one who once owned your heart.
I watched them; walking through the city with not a care in the world. The witch's husband was having them watched – closely – or I would have cut out their lying, deceiving hearts - I will do that for you, my love; then your heart will belong only to me.
You will come to me, beneath the orphanage, tomorrow night at 9 o'clock. The fates of those children, the nuns, and your wife are in your hands.
Pieter"
Erik cleared his throat as soon as he saw Raoul look up from the letter and crease his brow with concern.
"After reading it, I was ill for a good hour...he has no conscience and will easily and without remorse, carry though on his threat."
Erik was slightly taken aback when Raoul clenched his fists and let out a guttural growl; fury rampant in his eyes and racing unhindered through his veins.
"I should have killed him two years ago…when I had the opportunity."
Erik scoffed and stood up with all the lithe grace of a jungle cat.
"Killing another human being should always be a matter of life and death…I would that you never have to live with another person's blood on your hands..." Erik stated, then looked at Phillip and nodded, "…or you."
Raoul appraised Erik's dogged profile; the words he had just spoken were rife with resolve and timeless wisdom.
"How many…Erik…." Raoul choked, afraid of the answer, "…how many have you killed?"
Dark, solemn eyes closed gradually…and Raoul was certain there was moisture forming in the corners beneath sable lashes.
"Too many…and each one took a piece of my soul to the grave with him."
Erik remained quiet, but his eyes searched the room for nothing in particular. He finally walked over to where Raoul and Phillip were sitting and took the chair across from them.
"This will end with a death – perhaps several; one or both of theirs…and, quite possibly, mine."
That simply would not do; Raoul and Phillip both whipped their eyes to Erik's somber features.
"I have taken the liberty of contacting the police concerning this matter…" Erik chuckled quietly as he remembered their quick response and eagerness to help him…now that he was a rather successful composer and legitimate business man. "…we have never been on the best of terms; but they appreciate my work and agreed to help."
"Even with their help, do you still think there will be bloodshed or death?"
Erik sighed in frustration, swept his hand through his hair, and rubbed his forehead – trying to hold off the burgeoning ache that was beginning to throb at his temples.
"I am not going to say that it will not happen, but I will do my best to avoid it." He replied with frustrated patience and a slight smile.
"What do you think Yves will be doing while Pieter is meeting you at the orphanage?" Phillip questioned.
The hand that had swept through his hair and rubbed his forehead, now fiddled with the edge of his mask…the itching was becoming intolerable and he longed to remove it.
"He is the only player in this wretched game that bothers me."
Raoul frowned, "Why is that?"
"I do not know him." Erik stated simply. "I am not familiar with him at all, which makes him unpredictable and twice as dangerous."
Phillip and Raoul understood his meaning and agreed with him. Where did that leave them?
"What is Lavanya going to be going during this entire time…I know she will not stand by and let you walk head first into what could be a trap?"
Erik frowned and closed his eyes in thought; when next he opened them, they were full of regret and shame.
"She will not know - none of them will – Anya, Tarrah, Christine, or Annette." Raoul and Phillip leaned in at the mention of the their respective loves, "The only way to keep all of them out of this and out of harms way is to have them locked up – well protected – guarded by the police."
"You cannot be serious?" Raoul laughed, thinking Erik had finally slipped off the edge of sanity.
"I am quite serious…" Erik stated with a smirk, "…I will make it look real enough….by the time they are hauled away, the whole of Paris will be convinced I have finally lost my mind; and Pieter and Yves will think they have the upper hand."
Completely shocked, Phillip and Raoul could not even speak.
"The police are already in agreement and the plan is underway…tomorrow afternoon, at the opera house – where we will all be – they will be arrested for conspiracy to commit murder."
"Murder!?" They both shouted.
"Yes…the murder of my staff and me…" Erik explained, "...for the sake of the ruse, I have revealed to the police what I believe to be proof of their intent to murder me…but they wanted to start with my staff and then decided to slaughter my horse when I was not there to feed their bloodlust."
"This is madness, Erik…the women will be distraught." Raoul emphasized; anxiety written all over his features.
Erik nodded and put their minds at rest, "They will be told the real reason for their confinement, as soon as they are confined."
The full plan was quickly spelled out for them, and both men agreed that it sounded best and would keep the women out of harms way - from the sound of it, Pieter already had his heart set on hurting or killing Lavanya and possibly Christine. There was not need to take chances.
"I must admit, I like that better than having them sit in a jail cell...I will meet them there and try to calm them." Phillip stated.
Erik leaned in to both men and spoke in a hushed tone – his masked features wrought with concern and need. He handed a sheet of paper to Raoul and folded his hand together in front of him as though in prayer.
"If this goes bad, I will need you contact Anya's brother in Egypt, his name is Sharad Keshav, let him know what happened…" Erik waited for Raoul to read the paper and then continued, "…Everything is hers – all that I have – including whatever claims I have in Russia, should she choose to claim them – there have also been provisions made should she be with child."
At that thought, Erik felt a deep sadness overtake him, he longed to see her swell with his child and watch her nurse him at her breast – but Erik had to face the reality that he may not come out of this alive.
"The paperwork is in order with my solicitor, and already signed – it takes affect immediately upon my death."
Erik looked up into the stoic face of Raoul, who sat back in his chair as though in shock - not ready to face his unconsolable wife and definitely not wanting to face Lavanya should Erik not emerge from this with his life.
Erik, aware of the conflict Raoul was engaged in, urged him again.
"Promise me, Raoul."
Raoul looked at the paper and than back at Erik, "Of course, you have my word."
Erik looked at Phillip.
"I will need you to promise me that you will love and take care of Tarrah…that she will want for nothing and that she will always be your top priority."
Phillip gave his affirming nod, "You have my word."
TBC