Erik and Christine strolled down the cliff side path to the beach. Christine found she not only did not need her gloves, but that her cloak was unnecessary as well since the sun was rising higher in the sky and the day felt unseasonably warm. Erik removed his overcoat and draped it over his arm along with her cloak. He took her arm and led her along, feeling her gentle grasp of his forearm in her small hand.

His mind wandered dangerously as they walked. Last night he had been driven nearly out of his mind by her unseemly actions. She had allowed him to kiss her. Dear sweet God he finally kissed a woman. And not just any woman, he had kissed his little Christine; his Angel of Music. How any simple gesture could be received as so pleasurable was beyond his comprehension, but there was. The one thing he had craved beyond reason for so many years of his life had finally been granted to him. And she had eagerly kissed him back, pressing her lithe body against his wantonly.

No! He could not think of her like that, as if she were some knowing trollop sent to tease and torment him. She was more innocent than he, despite their equal level of inexperience; he was many years her senior and had been wanting for that level of closeness to another human being for far longer than she had been aware of the other sex. She could not possibly know what she was doing to him, and he had to be the older mature one of them. He could not allow accusations such as those the inn's staff were no doubted repeating to each other right now, to reach her reputation in Paris if she were to be an honest and respected singer at the opera. Most chorus girls were regarded as nothing more than whores who happened to entertain the wealthier patrons of the theater society. Were Christine to be regarded as such, she would never aspire to the stage to take her place among the greatest singers beheld there. He could not let that happen. There were more problems than that to think of once they returned. It would be hard enough for her to aspire to be anything other than the crazy girl who ran away with the opera ghost once he showed up on her arm. He still dreaded having to face that dilemma, but for the time being, he had more difficult things to consider. Like how to keep himself from losing control with her physically when she was being so damned innocently alluring!

They reached the steps that led down to the beach and he released her hand so she could lead them down. She blushed and smiled back at him before walking down the stone cut steps carefully lifting her skirt.

His mind drifted back to every action of the previous evening replaying them over and over, specifically the parts after arriving back at the inn. Christine insisted that inviting him to sleep in her bed was innocent and something they had already done before in the dilapidated church. Did she truly think it was so innocent to have a man share her bed or was she so naïve to not know or realize what implications were sent to his conscious mind and subconscious will by doing so? He knew Christine was a child at heart, always believing in fairy tales. In those make believe stories, the fairy that spirited away the young girl, never took advantage of her. Did she know what went on in the bedrooms of the other chorus girls after hours when the patrons were supposed to have gone home? If the girl had ears she would be able to hear the moaning that echoes in the halls late at night and from secluded areas that are seldom frequented. Last night he fought with himself using every shred of decency and self control he possessed to not have his way with her. His knees trembled and he nearly fainted when he helped her undress. The sight of her willing body standing before him, watching his own hands undo the buttons down her dress to reveal her lacey chemise beneath had caused his loins to harden to the point of pain. His mouth had gone dry from nervousness. The overwhelming lust he felt as she curled next to him in her bed had nearly sent him over the edge. He feared for her safety from himself when he came so dangerously close to losing control. His mouth watered when he thought of tasting her skin, not just her mouth, but the rest of her body as well. From the bawdy songs sung in taverns and the romantic novels he tortured himself to read from time to time, he knew a woman's taste to be described as sweet and like nothing else. He was hungry for her and not in just one way.

As Erik watched her walk in front of him down the stone steps, he felt himself turning hard as a rock inside his trousers and the intense throb return as he thought of what she might taste like if he were to tear the clothing from her soft pale body and sample her skin with his tongue. As he caught himself staring at her form moving so femininely before him, he slipped on the dry sand that covered the stairs. He caught himself on the rocky ledge and scraped his hand and cursed, not because he was injured, but because he was sure that the bulge in the front of his pants was the most noticeable part of his body right now.

Christine turned quickly to as she heard his low swear. "Are you alright?" she asked.

He turned to the side to hide his embarrassing tent then proceeded to brush the smear of blood on his dark trousers. He sat for a moment, adjusting his coat to cover himself then righted and stood. "I'm fine, my dear. Perhaps you should walk behind me, as you are such a distraction," he teased, praying she did not hear the tremor in his voice.

She smiled coquettishly and continued on ahead of him, and he swore she was taking the extra effort to sashay her hips at him. She had to know she was driving him mad, and a small part of him felt guilty for it, but the rest was curious to see what she would do if his extreme self control were tested beyond its limits and failed. Despite the temptation she had lay before him he had not done anything to her that she was not more than ready to accept. He knew, as he watched her before him, it was only a matter of time before the swelling urge to sate his lust would become too much for him to take. Then what, he wondered?

He knew the answers to that question and he didn't like either one. He would either have to tear his soul out and leave, or suffer the consequences of the damage he would cause to her innocent mind when he ravaged her like the monster he felt he was. Neither situation was acceptable, but he felt deep within that, despite kissing him, there was no way in heaven or hell she would submit to being his lover. Even if she was willing to allow him to one day share her bed in all ways, did she even know what that meant? Would she be frightened and change her mind? And if so, could he stop himself once they started down that slippery slope should she suddenly refuse? No, he knew he would rather die than hurt her, but he feared his own desire would trump her protestations.

So far she had blown all his expectations clearly out of the water and he never imagined she would allow him to court her, let alone kiss her. He had to wonder if it was all a game to her. Was she just playing at being in a relationship and doing what she thought was expected of her? Surely the gossip of the other ballet dancers at the opera would have led her to believe what she must do if a patron ever showed interest in her. She would have to act demure and appreciative and enjoy the gentleman's company, then perhaps allow him a goodnight kiss at the end of the evening. Was that all she had been doing last night? Did her invitation to her room mean anything to her, or had she simply been playing her part? Or perhaps she did it out of pity for him. The horrible doubts crept back into his mind once again. Perhaps she was simply being nice to her poor tortured Erik. Perhaps when this week was over she would change her mind and thank him nicely for the lovely vacation, then run off with the Vicompte de Chagny.

By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped out onto the sand, Erik's emotions had run the entire range from lusty to endearing, to doubtful, then rage and loneliness. As his feet touched the sand, he was suddenly in an incredibly foul mood, which the heat coming from the sun above did not help to lighten.

Christine looked behind her when she noticed Erik was not right by her side. She felt the mood shift as she looked at him and knew he was brooding on something even his mask could not hide. She stopped walking and waited for him to catch up to her.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "If it's what Marie said to you that bothered you," she continued.

Erik cut her off, "No, it's not that. Just please forget it Christine. I can't explain it. You wouldn't understand."

Christine fell in by his side, now trying to keep up his pace through the dry sand that pulled at her shoes. "What wouldn't I understand? Ten minute ago you were acting fine and happy, and now you are dwelling on something." When he did not answer her, she got angry and continued, "Is this the way it is to be with you; Angry in the mornings and deliriously happy at night?"

That shocked him. He stopped walking and looked at her, "Christine, I'm sorry. You know I am not always in the best of moods at times."

"That's an understatement," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "Now please tell me what changed your mood so quickly to this." She looked at him in a way that brooked no argument. He would not be able to give her the silent treatment now.

"Christine," he started, then cleared his throat, feeling more wretched by the minute, "part of what has me upset is what happened, what we did last night."

Christine's face fell. Erik knew instantly she had taken that the wrong way and she looked hurt by it.

"Christine, I don't regret sleeping by your side," he amended quickly. "It was more than I ever dreamed. But you should know that it will not happen again, I promise." There, he said it. That should discourage her from tempting him in the future. Let her think he did not want it and she might not push him so close to losing control.

"I don't understand," she said, staring at him dumbly.

"It was wrong of me to do so," Erik said quickly. "I should never have put you in a position that might compromise your reputation. You are a good sweet girl and I will not have people speaking of it otherwise." Erik was rambling now. "Besides, when we return to Paris, what will they say of you when they see me by your side, let alone if they knew we were intimate," he choked out the word, sick to think he might never get to use it again in reference to his beloved.

"You think I will be bothered by what people say about you?" Christine stammered.

"I will be bothered by it. I don't wish for you to be seen as a harlot; some cheap chorus whore."

Christine was struck dumb by the term. Is that what people thought of her? Did they really think she was a whore? She was still a virgin!

"Erik, I can dispel the rumors quite easily enough," she tried to explain.

"It isn't just that," Erik continued. He held his coat to his chest tightly. "I'm…" but she could not hear what he mumbled after.

"What?"

"I'm dangerous, Christine," Erik said. The velvet in his voice sounded oddly menacing when he spoke the word.

"I know what you had to do in your past, but you would never hurt me," she started to argue.

"I'm not speaking of that sort of dangerous, Christine," Erik lifted his head to face her. His eyes were oddly fearful and yet she was the one who trembled at his words. "I'm dangerous to you, and only to you in ways you are unaware of yet."

Christine thought for a moment, trying to guess what he was cryptically referring to. Then she understood what he meant and she felt her limbs go numb. Did he mean he would one day violate her? Did he imply he would rape her? It was a horrific term, one she had only heard through horrible stories of what happens to good girls who are not careful around violent men. Surely Erik was not capable of that.

"You would never hurt me," she repeated, trying to get that awful four letter word out of her mind. She shook her head in disbelief. Was he trying to tell her that he was capable of such a horrid act?

"No, Christine, I could never hurt you intentionally."

Intentionally? Did he mean he would hurt her accidentally? "But?"

Erik paused, unwilling to continue his explanation. He walked past her shaking his head. "Forget it. You wouldn't understand."

Christine followed, and placed a light hand on his shoulder. He froze to the spot, his body tense and unmoving. She was barely touching him, but she somehow held him there. "You keep saying I wouldn't understand. Do you think me unintelligent?"

"No," Erik started.

"Then tell me what it is you think I am so incapable of understanding so I might try to," Christine said softly, still managing to sound exasperated although she was a little frightened at his vagueness.

"I'm a monster."

Christine was shocked to hear the term come from his mouth. What did he mean by it?

"I'm a disgusting lecher for thinking that I could have a normal relationship to you," he blurted out quickly.

"Erik?" Christine tried to interrupt him but he brushed past her and quickly walked away down the beach leaving her standing dumbfounded. She stood there for a long time, watching him walk away, kicking up sand as he went. She felt the tears start to trickle down her face and the breeze dry them to her skin before they could fall from her cheek.

How could he think that, she wondered? How could he say he is a monster for wishing to be with her? His words played over and over again in her head. Dangerous. Monster. Never hurt you intentionally. What did he mean? With an awful cramp in her stomach she wondered if he would possibly hurt her one day. Did she truly know all of his past and what he had suffered? Did she know the truth of what he could be capable of?

She shook her head to herself as she watched him disappear around the rocks. If he was capable of such a horrendous act as violating a woman, he would not torment himself like this for fear of hurting her like that. There had to be another explanation for his self loathing that suddenly crept upon him.

She walked slowly, following his footprints in the sand. She knew from experience with him that she should give him time, but she was completely confused as to why he would suddenly act like he hated himself when just a few hours ago she would have said he was the happiest man she ever met. After a time she saw him, hunched over hugging his knees with his back to her. He sat on the lonely rock staring out into the vast sea watching the waves crash onto the beach. She spotted a white object lying next to him and knew it was his mask. As she neared him, she saw him raise a hand to wipe his face on his sleeve. He was weeping once more and it broke her heart to think she did not know how to help.

As she approached him, he cocked his ear in her direction but did not turn to face her. He reached for his mask and replaced it on his face, still staring out into the grey green water that foamed into curling waves in the distance. She climbed up the smaller stones and came to sit just behind him.

"Erik?" Christine started, unsure how to go about asking her next question. "From what I know of you, you are no monster. But…" she hesitated, placing her hand against his back. "When you say you are dangerous to me, what did you mean by that?"

Erik did not answer.

"Please, I have to know," she persisted. "I know what men are capable of doing to women, but I could not imagine you ever doing something so horrible to me."

Erik exhaled deeply but still did not answer or turn in her direction.

"Erik," Christine swallowed, "would you try to rape me?"

The word rang into Erik's head and surprised him that she would use it. He turned to look at her, completely aghast. "Rape you?" he asked.

Christine stared fearfully back at him, removing her hand from his shoulder and prepared to flee should he become angry with her for asking such a question.

"Christine, I could never do something so horrible. That is an abomination that the sickest of men commit. I may be a lot of things but one of them I am not!" he spat vehemently.

"Then why say you are a danger to me?" Christine cried, her lip quivering.

"Because I am so madly in love with you that I fear I would lose control with you!" he shouted. Erik stood and paced away from her, walking back and forth in front of where she sat. "I should never have to violate your ears with such words, but you must know you are driving me mad! I have never known the touch of a woman before you; your innocence which I so wish to protect and preserve is the only thing stopping me from allowing myself the desires of a man!"

Isn't that what rape is, she wondered? Christine watched him wide eyed, pacing forth and back before her, ranting his frustrations. She knew he desired her, but had she been putting him through such agony by her flirting?

"Christine," he said, and he rushed to her feet, "I am a man like any other man, but I have wished for nothing more than this for so long that I feel I am dangerously close to the edge. I can scarcely hope you would desire to be with me intimately but if you ever did, then were to change your mind… Should I ever push you past your limit, you would turn me away and that is something I can never afford to risk. You are far too important to me and I know deep inside my soul that I would never survive your rejection should you…" he couldn't continue. He was choking on his own words and stumbling in his explanation.

"Erik," Christine began. She didn't know what to say. She felt immediately guilty for having put him through this. Did he not know how she felt for him? Did he truly feel she would turn him away? Virgin she may be but she was hardly a nun. "Do you think I am toying with your emotions?" she accused him. "I would never dishonor you that way. I care for you far too much."

Christine stepped down off the rocks and went to him. "I can't believe I'm saying this out loud, but it seems it's the only way you will understand." She stole her courage and closed her eyes before saying, "You are not the only one with desires."

Erik's ears burned with her words. He could only hear the waves and a gull crying above them as it rode the wind.

"Christine?" he inquired.

She stepped towards him timidly, "I may be young but I know enough and I know what you do to me." With every step towards him she became more frightened and emboldened at the same time. "Are you even aware of what I feel every time you look at me; of how your voice nearly sends me to my knees when you say my name?"

Erik could not believe what he was hearing. Once again this siren had come to replace his little Christine with a brave temptress. He had no idea how to react to this stranger who stood before him.

Christine walked closer to Erik until she stood just half a step away. "You tell me you are a monster for wanting me," she cocked her head to the side, "but then what does that make me?"

Erik was lost for words, almost. He said, "It's wrong for me to want you but God help me I do." He grasped her hands pulling them up against his chest.

"Why is it wrong for you and alright for anyone else?" Christine asked softly. She looked up into his eyes and felt her stomach lurch with butterflies once more. "Do you think I'm so naïve to not realize how you feel? I know you are as unprepared as I for what we are doing."

Erik felt hot under his mask at her words. "What are we doing?" he repeated in question.

"This," Christine said, unable to elaborate more. She did not know how to put it into words. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his in a gesture that needed no other interpretation. The kiss started out gentle but quickly grew to into an overwhelming need for more of his touch. She suddenly didn't want him to restrain himself. If it caused him so much agony, why would she wish to deny him? Having never been with a man, she didn't even know what it was that she wanted. She only knew that when he looked at her and touched her she felt completely helpless in his power.

Erik's hands softened their grip on hers and the tenseness in his rigid body changed to a different sort when her lips pressed to his. Her mouth moved on his smoothly, tasting his lips and the salt of dried tears on his skin. She felt the soft leather of his mask brush her face and upper lip and she frustratingly tore it away. Erik broke loose from her kiss for only a moment to gasp at the sudden coolness on his bare face but in seconds he stole her mouth again, holding her face to his, mask forgotten.

Christine's arms wrapped themselves around his neck holding him tight to her kiss as her tongue darted out to flick his own. A sharp pang of pleasure shot through her as she did and he responded. Their tongues danced together as they devoured each other in a kiss that was growing more desperate with need by the moment. Erik's arms crushed her to him, pressing the length of her against his taunt body. She could feel the tension of every tightened muscle and his hands roving up and down her back holding her to him. She felt entirely too hot all over. The sun beat down on them from up above and the flames he lit within her felt like they were burning her in an unimaginably enjoyable fire.

Erik felt the hunger return with a forceful vengeance. He wanted to taste every inch of her body; to touch every part of her until he knew every curve by memory. Was it possible, his fevered brain wondered, that she wanted him just as badly too? The sweat trickled down his back under his shirt and he felt oppressively restrained. He wanted to tear his clothing off and be free of it forever. He wanted to feel her touch to his emblazoned skin and to know once again the softness of hers under his fingertips.

Erik's lips left her mouth suddenly and were at her neck, hungrily tasting and sucking at her smooth skin. She gasped at the sensation and her knees buckled. Were it not for his arms holding her she would have fallen over. He caught her and they both lowered to the sand on their knees. Erik could not help himself. He leaned her back to lie on the warm white sand, cradling her head on his arm. She stared up at him in wonder, her dark eyes blinking the bright sunlight away.

He tugged at his collar, opening the top buttons to release some of the heat built up under his shirt. He looked down at his little Christine lying once again in his arms. Her breasts strained against the fabric of her dress and tightened against his as her deep breaths filled her lungs. Her face was flush with the heat and emotion of being kissed so. Erik paused to take in the beauty of her lying there. He brushed the hair back away from her face, pushing her locks behind one ear and slowly stroked his fingers down the side of her neck. It was still moist from his lips and he traced the place he had just kissed to the edge of her lacey collar.

Christine lay there, feeling his fingertips tickling her warm skin. She prayed he would not stop at her neckline and as an answer to her prayer, she felt him slip the first small button through its hole with a slight pop. She held her breath as she looked down and watched his long fingers slowly work their way down the front of her dress, undoing the buttons one by one. He only got to a few before he stopped and she felt his cool hand slip just beneath the fabric and push it aside to reveal the hollow at the base of her neck. Her breath hitched in her throat as he dipped his head down to claim a kiss at the place where her slender neck met her shoulder. He softly grazed his mouth across her collarbone and she felt him tenderly flick his tongue across it between kisses. She moaned softly as he did and could feel his hoarse breathing on her skin sending goose bumps up and down her back. A powerful throb emanated from between her legs causing her to gasp suddenly. She had felt that same sensation before when he kissed her, but the intensity of this caught her off guard. He stopped kissing her and pulled back to look at her quizzically.

His eyes were dark and hungry as he drank in the sight of her, knowing he was making her gasp like that. The power over her reactions to him was making him drunk and he was happy to become an addict. He once again claimed her mouth, even as he regretted doing so because it would drown out the lovely sounds she was making. He wanted to continue unbuttoning her dress more than ever, but as eager as he was, he wanted to take his time and savor every moment of it. He daringly stroked his hand down her front, feeling the buttons under his fingertips as if he were memorizing how many there were. His hand passed between her breasts, barely touching them and she whimpered into his mouth. The tightness he felt in his groin grew even more so as he heard her beautiful voice making those sounds against his lips. He stopped at her waist, then slid his hand around to grasp her hips, pulling them toward him slightly.

Just before his hand could explore her body further Erik heard the noise of scraping boots on the rocks.