Paladin29

Erik's grip softened as Sophia rested her forehead on his shoulder and breathed in his masculine scent. She felt his hand nervously run along her spine as he swallowed air through his parted lips. At last she had found a way to keep him quiet and enjoy his company.

It was odd that he was still a stranger to her, but Sophia felt comfortable in his presence. Despite his harsh words and gruff exterior she felt safe in his arms, more so than she felt when she was with Karl Turro.

Erik breathed hard against her ear, unabashedly smelling her hair, his lips tickling the shell of her ear. She smiled against his overcoat and closed her eyes, feeling his fingers draw circles on her back.

"Why?"

Her eyes popped open but she didn't lift her head. She thought if she ignored his question he would forget that he had asked her anything.

"Mademoiselle—"

"If I am to call you Erik then you must call me Sophia," she murmured.

His fingers touched her chin and drew her eyes up to meet his.

"Why, Sophia?"

Sophia smiled, silently reassuring him that she had made her decision and she didn't regret it. His expression hardened and she knew he needed something more.

Her hands trembled as she gripped his arms. "Why did you kiss me first?"

His head turned slightly to the side as he stared into her left eye, the one in which she was losing her sight. It made her uncomfortable and she gripped his arms tighter, fearing he would say something cruel.

"Because you are beautiful," he said quietly, looking over her head. Even in a whisper he spoke with power, with masculinity in every syllable. "Because I wanted to kiss you."

Karl had told her once that he thought she was pretty, but his words didn't weaken her knees the way Erik's voice did. It made her heart race and her head feel light. There was sincerity in his words despite his gruff, growl of a voice.

She wanted to know more about this man who filled her ears with sweet music and her nerves with more electricity and pleasure than she had ever known. She wanted more of this man who made her stomach tighten merely by his presence, who made her feel something deeply intimate when he did nothing more than touch her chin with his fingers.

Instinctively she reached up and caressed the unmasked side of his face, watching as he swallowed and closed his eyes. His hand reached up and kept her fingers in place, allowing her to feel the warmth of his skin.

Sophia felt him exhale against her wrist and she smiled, wanting to see and feel more of him. She lifted her left hand, her fingers prying at the edges of the mask.

Before she had a firm hold on the covering Erik pulled back, almost violently swatting her hands away.

"No," he growled with his back to her, holding his hand over his face.

The tone of his voice startled Sophia, the single word ripping through her. She stood with her arms straight at her sides and her mouth agape, unsure of what to say or do.

"You will never, ever touch it again," he said coldly.

"I didn't mean—"

"I know damn well what your intentions were, Sophia," he said, turning enough for her to see his left eye. "Swear to me that you will never touch my mask or request to see what lies beneath. Is that understood?"

Sophia stood in silence, afraid to agree or disagree.

"Sophia," he growled again. "Swear to me. Do it!"

She took a step forward and wrung her hands. "Don't ask me to make promises at your discretion, Erik. Give me a moment to consider."

Erik swung around to face Sophia. "There is nothing to consider." He pointed at her but hesitated to say another word. Slowly he turned his back to her. "It's a mistake."

"What's a mistake? I don't understand."

"I know what's best," he said through his teeth. "And you will not question my word in regard to this. Is that clear?"

"I will be in the parlor," she said simply.

Erik didn't acknowledge her words. She heard him exhale as his head lowered. Sophia took one last look at him as he stood with his back to her before she turned the doorknob and quietly walked out of his room.

Her curiosity was definitely piqued, but she knew she had to respect his wishes, at least for the time being. More than anything she wanted to earn his trust, which she felt she was doing when she was in the parlor with him. She gently ran her fingers down the door and hoped he would join her again.

Before she turned to walk down the stairs, a hand reached out and covered her mouth as another grasped her around the waist and dragged her down the hall.

"Quiet now," a voice snarled in her ear. "Quiet or any attempt you make at being heard will be the last breath from your body."

-o-

Erik stood by the window after Sophia left and watched for her to walk to her home. He considered going after her, but chasing Christine had gained him nothing and he would not make the same mistake twice.

The last moments he had seen Christine still haunted him. He stared at the palm of his hand and thought about how she had handed him her engagement ring and left with her true fiancé.

He had thought for certain that he would die. Alone, completely forgotten, he would die, perhaps in the crumbling opera house, perhaps in the streets. As he walked through the darkness, through the endless catacombs, he had cynically considered joining the nearest circus and volunteering to show his face to a paying crowd. Once Christine left nothing had mattered - not life, not music, not food or drink. His heart continued to beat, but he didn't live, and once she was gone he realized he had never quite lived.

But Erik had made up his mind this time: he would not allow Sophia to see his face, ever. And he would not eavesdrop on her as he had done with Christine because he wanted to win her honestly, like any other gentleman.

He sighed and shook his head while he waited and realized she still hadn't appeared outside. He knew she was speaking with Citrine and with the way those two could talk it might be dawn before she returned home. With nothing left to do he decided to sit and compose a while, as his brain was too filled with thoughts and his body too unsettled for sleep.

When he turned he found the dog sitting directly behind his chair, the bandage on his paw completely removed.

"You stupid beast," Erik muttered as he got on his hands and knees and looked beneath the bed for the discarded bandages.

Almost instantly his bed creaked, and even though he knew what he would find, Erik still looked up and saw the dog sitting on his bed, his tail wagging back and forth and injured paw held above the mattress. If he hadn't been an Irish wolfhound he never would have made it onto the bed with his injury, but this was a large and determined animal, one that would not easily be deterred from what he wanted.

"No," Erik said sternly as he climbed to his feet, the sullied bandages in hand. "Absolutely not."

The dog lay down on its side and whined as he rubbed his head into the coverlet, making himself comfortable. His front paws dangled in the air, and for the first time Erik had a clear view of the damage done by the trap. Citrine had cut the hair around the wound to reveal how pink and raw the animal's flesh was around the puncture wound. He couldn't see bone, as blood had dried over the deepest parts, but Erik guessed the steel had bitten down into the muscles and most likely to the bone.

Erik sat on the edge of the bed and felt the dog nudge him. He glanced down and saw the wolfhound's large, square head resting on his lap. Every time the dog blinked his eyebrows moved, which made Erik smile. He had never seen a dog with eyebrows. He had never seen any animal this close before.

Seeing no other choice, Erik scratched the top of the dog's head and behind his ears. He stared at the dog and couldn't bring himself to call him Dublin, Irish wolfhound or not. It didn't seem suitable for such a powerful animal.

"You're fierce, aren't you? Bred to take down wild game, like elk or deer," Erik said as the dog rolled to its back and unabashedly requested a belly rub. The dog's actions made Erik chuckle to himself. He had laughed so few times in his life that the sound was almost foreign to his ears. "Perhaps not so ferocious when your feet are in the air, eh?"

Erik continued to look at the animal's paw. It angered him that someone had set a trap on his land without permission. In the morning he would venture out and find the rest of them, as he was certain there were more the snow was currently burying.

After a while Erik's eyes felt heavy and he stood again, grabbing the dog under its front legs and gently placing him on the ground. He undressed while the dog sat on the floor and watched him as he walked across the room to his dresser.

He shared his cold supper with the dog, whom he called half a dozen different names to see if he would respond. None of them worked, but Erik decided he could try again later. He begrudgingly realized that the dog wasn't going to leave, and though he would attempt to convince Citrine that he didn't want the beast in his room or in his home, he found he was enjoying the dog's quiet company.

Once they finished their dinner Erik turned down the lamps and settled into bed, telling the hound sternly that he would sleep at the end of the bed. The dog stared back at him, his ears lifted in interest at his master's words.

With one final pat on the end, Erik turned over in bed and closed his eyes, longing to see Sophia again but at least partially contented that he was not entirely alone. The wolfhound didn't replace human contact, but he provided something, a long-lost sense of comfort.

It came as no surprise when a wet nose exhaled on the back of Erik's neck moments after he had fallen asleep. A warm tongue laved him awake, startling him into turning onto his back and fumbling for the light.

He was met by the same warm, wet tongue licking his face, front claws stabbing at his shoulder as the dog stood with his back legs on the floor and front legs on the bed.

"Damn you," Erik said under his breath as he hefted his newfound companion onto the bed. He chuckled again, feeling the dog's tail wagging back and forth against his leg.

"Fidelio," he said as he turned down the lamp again. "My loyal, insistent companion."

He closed his eyes and smiled as Fidelio rested his head on the pillow as well. At least the bed was warmer, Erik thought.

He had just started to fall asleep when the front door slammed shut and glass broke somewhere in the house. He sat up immediately and tossed the covers aside, hearing Citrine scream out just as he reached his bedroom window.

"Sophia!" she screamed again, running after the coach leaving the yard.