Hello everyone! I am so sorry for my long absence. I have dealt with my burn, it is doing well, I needed the skin graft unfortunately. It is an extremely ugly scar and rather large, unfortunate but unavoidable. But I am doing fine now. Thank you all for your warm wishes and kind hearts! Now….this chapter may….be a bit slow since I am still getting back into it. It may also change a bit, please bear with me! Now, on with the show Mon Ami's!

PryingPandora

XII

What has been done, will it be undone?

Erik

An entangled web of emotion was caught in his chest, seeming to clog the natural rhythm of his heart. He had continued to curse himself the entire way to the lair, the short gondola ride to the heart of his lair had seemed like an eternity, as Christine's soft sobs echoed off the walls, however before they reached their destination she had fallen silent. No doubt she had passed out, the shock and distress overcoming her.

Foolish ignorant imbecile! How could you think that a beauty could tame the beast inside of you? Did you think that it went away? Curse you!

As he paced in front of the curtained bed where his sweet Christine slumbered, her party gown and mask still in place, he played out what had happened above millions of times in his mind. Angrily he struck out, knocking a candelabra into the water, extinguishing the flames with a muted hiss. The rage still boiling under his skin, at his ignorance and at that bastard's audacity to touch his sweet Christine. He could still hear the commotion above, the terror and anger at the confrontation had effectively ruined the Ball Masque. With a heavy sigh he pulled the rope lever beside the grand bed, watching as the curtain rose, revealing the prone and sleeping form of his beloved.

Oh Christine….can what I have done….be undone? Do you view me as I view myself now? Do you not understand now, that it seems that none can tame the beast?

With a strangled breath he dared to seat himself at the edge of the bed, the velvet sinking slightly beneath his weight. With a gloved hand he brushed her cheek, gently, his heart faltering in his chest. With a curse he whipped his hand back and yanked it free of the glove, angrily tossing it aside into the outer bed chamber. The offending glove hit something with a faint slap. He wanted to feel that spark, the sweet creamy softness of her skin, the warmth that radiated from inside her that had melted his ice interior so long ago. Brushing his fingertips gingerly across her cheek, his heart swelled, a pain inside that same heart pricked at him, that feeling…was it guilt? Leaning as close as he dared to her face, he studied her delicate features confined to the mask she wore. The dark satin accentuated her rose red lips, made the soft skin around her face, just that much creamier, and made her long dark eyelashes stand out upon her face. The mask, it seemed, instead of hiding the features, accentuated hers, made her all the more ethereal. A ugly thought crossed his mind, one of himself, and he leaned back as quick as he dared. Disgusted by himself he turned his face from her. Staring out onto the lake, his mind racing and his heart heavy, he spoke to himself, his voice deep and sorrowful throughout the cavern.

"Oh sweet Christine, how can you say you love a beast such as I? For your beauty is not just your voice, or your innocent face, no. It is your spirit, pure and clean. For my own is as black as soot, mangled and atrocious. I have frightened you once again, and I fear, for the last time."

Turning back to her prone form, his gaze softened, unconsciously of course. Gently he reached behind her curls, the feeling of her soft locks caressing his hands as he undid the bow of the mask. Slowly and with careful hands he removed it. The porcelain skin underneath revealed. Placing the mask in his lap he leaned tensely over his love, and brushed his lips across her brow. With a soft sigh she smiled, even in her sleep at his touch. A flutter of his heart responded to her sigh, but quickly drowned out by a vile feeling inside, at himself. With a sick feeling inside of himself he stood, taking the tiny porcelain mask with him, and closed the curtains once again.

You thrice damned fool! That was not your kiss to give! A stolen pleasure of yours which your mangled face does not deserve!, Screamed his mind.

The echo of his footsteps reverberating around the cavern, the faint slush of the water against the stone the only other sound. As he weaved between the piles of penned paper, boxes, remedies and such he fingered the mask. So tiny was his Christine, and so cunning. She must have seen that his masks were made of porcelain instead of the crepe paper, and had one of the men outside of the city cast one in her image, as to match his. A faint smile crossed his lips as he thought of her kind gesture. At last he came to a stop, the room entrance at which he was currently standing hidden by thick drapes. Brushing them aside he entered the room, which stank of actors glue and hatred. The inside of the small room was covered in shelves, and upon the shelves were hundreds of masks, of his own design. A small worktable sat in the far back of the room, a single candle illuminating the station. Jars of yellow viscous liquid were placed about the table, as well as jars of powders, creams, pots of paint and the like. Gingerly sitting down on the stool beside the station he gazed at the mask waiting upon the table. It was a simple mask, curiously alike to Christine's. It was the mask for the newest Opera, his Don Juan Triumphant. Placing Christine's delicate mask beside the finished Don Juan mask, they seemed to make an eerily beautiful pair. With a slight smile he gently touched Christine's mask, a fleeting touch as he stood. Blowing out the candle he exited the room, his intent now on perfecting the Aria score.

Christine

As she awoke she could not remember where she was, or what had happened.

Had she fallen asleep? Did she drink too much? She worried. Sitting up however, she saw she was once again in Maestro's lair, more precisely his bed. With a blush she brushed a loose lock of hair from her face, just as the first strains of music began to fill the cavern. The strains of the organ, filled the air sensually. The music seemed to roll across ones skin, like a lovers caress. Scrunching her brow she tried to remember how she ended up in her Maestro's lair. With a gasp the memories came flooding back. The boom of the organ at their entrance, the haunting tone of her Ange's voice filling the ballroom, the feeling of Raul's drunken hands tearing at her bodice, and the clang of steel ringing in her ears. With a soft sob she covered her mouth, a tiny tear escaped her eye and slid down her cheek. The terror of the night had returned and the embarrassment of her actions caused her face to burn. The sensual strains of music continued, calming the inflamed part of her soul, calming her fear that her Ange had left her, to deal death above. With a shudder she gathered herself up, sitting up in the vast bed with a little difficulty. With a deep breath she began to unravel the tangled events of the night.

Ange…his face…changed during the fight. It took on an alien look, one of pure rage, of death. His face portrayed that of the character he was costumed as, he was at that moment, instead of her Ange de la Muse, the Ange de la Mort. Certainly he would have killed Raul had she not stopped him, but had she robbed him of his honor? Had she disgraced him in front of the multitude?

Foolish girl, her heart sighed, but then it continued, He did it to protect you, your honor! You are not some back stage whore, and that is how Raul handled you. He was enraged at the foolish man, he loves you enough to kill for you. Go to him, soothe his wounds. Make sure he was not hurt, as Raul was. That rouge boy is no longer your friend, but an enemy, a nuisance. All Raul stands for is to destroy your love for your Ange. Go to him, talk with him, make things right.

Wiping the tears from her face she straightened herself, wishing that she could do without the corset and heavy gown. A quick smile flashed over her features, a sensual thought sweeping over her. With a devilish grin she hoisted herself off the bed, reaching behind her for the buttons of her dress. With deft fingers she quickly dispatched the offending buttons from her dress, letting the heavy hot fabric slide free of her skin. With a shiver she stepped free of the voluminous pile, her bare feet upon the stone. A blush stole across her skin as she stood, in her corset and slip; a lacy black pair, her garters and stockings. With a start, she noticed the eerie similarity to the white outfit she had worn when her Ange had taken her here the first time, but it was the opposite of the white innocence she had portrayed then, the black showing how she was ready to bloom into a woman. The black bodice of her corset caused the pale color of her skin to stand out in a sensual way, the sensual music continuing on, the organ filling the room with its bellow, as her Ange's voice seemed to ooze into the music. Transfixed she stood there for a moment, letting the enticing sound of his voice woo her.

"You have come here….In pursuit-"

With lithe feet she brushed the curtain away and exited the bed chamber, her heart pounding in her chest. Following the pathway of candles and letting the strains of music guide her she sought out her Ange.

"of your deepest urge, In pursuit of that wish-"

Suddenly his form came into view, gone was the red cloak, but still clad in the brilliant red garb of the red death, he sat upon his throne. The sweet music pouring forth from his fingers entranced her, his magnificent form powerful and commanding as he sat in sweet music's throne. He was both, Ange de la Muse, and Ange de la Mort, both one in the same but a sensual pairing of the two. The final strains of his voice filled the place, his nearness causing her to swoon.

"which till now has been silent….silent"

Catching her time to act she loosed her voice, letting it pour into the music,

"You have brought me….To that moment when words run dry …..To that moment when speech disappears…where there is silence….silence…Ange…"

Suddenly the organ stopped, a tenseness covered his features, without turning he stood at the organ. With a click he shut the key cover, and she could see he had no gloves on. With a sharp breath she clutched her hands to her breast, his voice pouring out to her.

"Christine…..your awake…..how did you…know that strain?" Turning slowly, the unblemished side of his face turning toward her, her breath catching in her throat.

Erik

It was startling to her his sweet Christine's voice, issuing forth those lines, the lines he penned in the heat of his sexual frustration. To hear them loosed from her innocent mouth was quite a shock, attempting to compose himself he had stood and had asked her a question, and had begun to turn toward her.

The sight that lay before him nearly struck him blind. He could feel his blood begin to stir in his veins, as his sweet innocent Christine stood before him, clad in nothing but her underpinnings, which were as black as the night he hid in. Gone from her features was the child she once was, and in its place was a sensual woman. Her voice rang sweetly around the cavern, stirring his blood further. Unable to contain himself any longer he strode down towards her.

"Ange, I am sorry I disgraced you, I never meant to tarnish your honor. Please forgive me Maestro."

She fell to her knees, her pleading eyes searching his as he strode to her. As he reached her she gently grabbed his leg, staring up at him. From this angle her breasts were fully visible, the creamy swells temping him, enticing his thoughts. With a shudder he reached down and pulled her up to him, pressing her head to his chest, struggling to contain the beast inside. His voice was rough betraying his passion,

"Oh dear Christine, I know you never meant to. You were terrified, and rightly so. But pray sweet one, why appear unto me in such temping garb?"

He could feel her fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt, her head pressed to his chest and he warred with himself to contain the passion he felt for her. She shifted her body, and absently pressed her breasts to him, eliciting a groan. A small gasp escaped her lips as she pulled away from him, worry in her eyes. He was grateful for the distance, for the bulge below his belt was close to her when they were close.

"Ange…are you hurt? Did Raul hurt you?" Worry tainted her voice as her hands flitted over his chest. Inwardly he groaned, praying that she would not look lower. His voice echoing forth like crushed velvet,

"Oh Christine, no darling. You…..entice. It is difficult to remain a gentleman when you are so close, dressed as you are. You cause my blood to boil Christine, you torment me so…sweet Christine, so innocent to the ways of men."

Turning he strode toward an off shoot of the aria stage, using the time where he did not face her to clandestinely shift the bulge in his pants downward. Taking deep breaths he turned to her again, she had not moved, but a faint blush had crossed her skin. With downward cast eyes her voice was like honey,

"Oh! I….see Ange…I…I…" Taking a deep breath she fought for words, causing her bosom to swell against the confines of her bodice, the creamy flesh begging for his touch.

Pervert, stop this now. She is a lady, and will be treated as such. If you must, wed her tonight!

A strangled breath escaped her lips and she seemed to have found the words she was looking for. He clenched his fists, attempting to keep himself rooted in place, a battle between his morals and his body raging. She looked up, her hair glimmering in the candlelight, the soft shadows crossing her skin sensually. Her eyes found his, a new glow inside of them that he had never seen before.

"Ange….I do not know the ways of men, nor the secrets of the bedroom…..but I…am unafraid Ange. I want you to take me and teach me…be my…Don Juan. Oh Ange please…?"

Her voice so soft and pleading, stirred his passion higher, as she slowly inched toward him, her moves so sensual and slow. Inside the battle against the beast was raging, and as of this minute, the beast was winning. Striding forward he crushed her to him, capturing her face with his hand and his mouth descending upon hers. Hungry forceful kisses, their bodies pressing together almost perfectly. A small groan escaped his lips as she writhed against him, her bosom pressing against his chest, and the hunger intensified. Lifting her to him, pulling her legs around his waist he carried her, mouth still upon her, to the organ. Placing her upon the keys, he trailed his mouth across her cheek, across her jaw and to her pale neck. A gasp escaped her, stoking the internal fire within him, a sensual sound that was. Continuing his plunder of her neck he rested his hands around her waist, his hands roving up and down as far as he dared. Her hands snaked up his neck, little sounds escaping her lips, and into his hair.

He could feel her tugging him closer to her neck, and he could feel the pounding of his blood in his veins. He wanted her so badly, and they were inching closer…and closer to the point of no return. Trailing his rough kisses down her neck, he reached the cleft of her breasts, gentling his touch he kissed the top of each, a throaty moan escaping his sweet Christine. The sound astonished him, and he raised his head, a deep flush had broken out across Christine's skin, a rosy shade and her breathing rapid, as his own. This momentary interruption of the mania they were in allowed that intellectual portion of his brain to break through and he pulled away. His breathing ragged and Christine's face bewildered. Turning, breathing hard he dragged his hands through his hair, turning from her eyes. His voice cracked and hoarse spilled forth,

"Christine….we…must stop this. You are a lady. And…as such I will not disgrace you." With considerable effort he straightened his shirt and shifted himself again. Behind him he could hear her sliding from the organ bench, no doubt fixing herself as well. Once he got his breathing under control he turned to face her once more, searching the vicinity for the cloak he had cast off earlier in a rage. Spotting it he scooped it up and gently placed it about her shoulders. Her head was lowered, staring at the floor. Cupping her face with his hand he tilted her face to him. Peering down he could see her mouth swollen from his kisses and a glint of tears in her eyes. With a sigh he brushed her lip with his finger,

"Oh sweet one….it is not that I do not desire you. That is evident. However I will not tarnish your reputation further by bedding you without marriage. You are not a common chorus girl, you are special Christine." Warring inside of himself he struggled to decide whether or not that tonight was the right time to ask her, to make her his forever, the debate only lasted a minute when his heart won the battle. Unwinding her arms from around him he strode over to the dresser by the organ, and pulled a secret lever, and extracted the velvet box. Lithely returning to her he peered into her eyes. A bewildered expression was cast upon her angelic face, eliciting a smile from his lips. Dropping to his knees in front of her, a first in his life, he reached out and clasped her tiny hand in his. Her eyes searched his attentively, and he smiled. His voice level and steady,

"My dear, I have waited forever for this. I dreamt of this day for years. I worked every last detail out, writing and rewriting this over and over and none of those versions ever came out like this. Darling, sweet Christine. Will you be my bride? My one companion in the darkness? The one to fill this dark place with the light of your soul?"

A strangled gasp escaped her lips, and a torrent of tears from her eyes. She quaked as he opened the box to reveal a ring of braded gold, with a large clear diamond in the center, with hearts of pure sapphire adjacent to the large diamond and two small "V"s of tiny diamond underneath the ends of the hearts. The entire thing sparkled like the sun, which, fit everything that Christine meant to him. Her silent tears burst into gasping sobs at the sight of the ring, slowly he stood and took the ring out of the box. Looping his free hand around her waist he looked down at her, and slowly she tilted her face to look at him, her eyes swimming in happy tears she only could shake her head up and down. A smile spread across his face as he took her hand and placed the band onto her hand. She suddenly turned, burying herself into his chest, happiness overtaking him.

Is my life now complete? What shall happen….my sweet bride….my Christine…..

End note:

I hope that that chapter is good enough to state you. Im sure you did not see that coming! ;D Please comment and leave your reactions in the comment section! I love to hear from you guys! Thanks