I think I wrote enough in my spare time and studied enough to warrant an update. Although I don't think I can write much more for a while, I sprained my hand terribly and have an exam on Monday. :-( I think the next few chapters will be fillers lol, I'm trying to get Nadir in too. Cuz the family all together is fun lol.

Chapter Twelve

God gave us the gift of life; it is up to us to give ourselves the gift of living well.
-Voltaire

Erik sank deep into the tub, scrubbing away the smell of fish. He doused the bath with rose oils, his favorite scent. As feminine as it was, it reminded him of Christine. The steam from the hot water rose and misted the tiles of the luxurious bathroom, which included a walk in closet for him. He turned on the faucet to let more hot water rush in, and he splashed about, thinking of what to give his almost nineteen-year-old fiancée. Fingering the dried rose petals he kept as potpourri at the side of the bath, he stared at its translucent surface, admiring the pink hue it had. A new dress, perhaps? Or he could take her for an outing…he sighed to himself, making a mental note to ask of Madame Giry visit the dressmakers' soon to check if Christine's wedding gown was done. Erik groaned in frustration, he would also need to visit the flower shop for her bouquet, and as well as the priest again, to check and confirm the matter of his wedding. Getting out of the bath, not even bothering to don a robe, he grabbed a sheaf of papers and a pen and wrote down his list of to-dos, before getting back into the tub to massage his temples.

Christine herself was deep in thought as she scrubbed herself with the lavender soaps provided to her. Letting out a soft sigh, she looked into the soapy water at herself, certainly doubting that Erik could ever want such a person like her. Wondering about the secrets of the marriage bed, she knew that it would involve a fair amount of pain and blood, and she blushed at the thought of all these ideas. Would Erik be gentle or passionate? She had often seen in their exchanges, the unbridled passion that lay beneath his smoldering eyes as he had gazed at her, his voice gruff and tender all at once. She blushed even more, feeling the unfamiliar heat pool between her legs, and a certain wetness she could not describe…feeling heady and deciding the warm water was feeding her imagination, she stepped out, splashing cold water on herself as she got a towel, dried and dressed herself and headed to her bedroom to think everything out alone. The gong soon sounded for dinner, and Christine realized how famished she had been, hurrying down the stairs in her hunger. The smell of freshly battered fish wafted up her nostrils as she found Erik waiting at the table for her with Meg and Madame Giry. Muttering a hasty apology as Erik pulled her seat out for her, she sat and they prayed, giving thanks for the meal. Christine could not help but to sneak a glance at Erik, noticing that he did not bow his head in thanksgiving, instead he stared straight ahead with a cold unreadable gaze. How unfortunate then, that she had ended up on his right, that all she could see were those dancing green orbs that seemed to tease her for peeping! She quickly found herself hoping that Madame would cut short this prayer that she may slip into the lighthearted banter that peppered their dinners together, after the Girys had arrived! Finally, the time came where they could partake of the food, and Meg began to tell about their fish misadventure in the cool room, much to their delight and laughter at her simple manner of telling the tale. Looking around the table, Christine let out a satisfied sigh. Never in her whole life, not even the time spent with the de Changys, had she felt such peace or the happiness and wholeness of a family. Madame was like her mother, and Erik her husband to be, Meg a sister…the butler that Erik hired seemed almost fatherly in an aspect as he went about tending to his duties, although she did not see him often. She smiled to herself, and thanked her God silently for the family she had been bestowed. Often during that night she found herself comparing the de Changys to this family she had been presented with, and although she caught herself before her mind could wander so far, she still remembered how the conversations had all been clipped, polite, cold and utterly formal, about politics and the likes of the days' happenings. Not much was said and done in the way of camaraderie and laughter, and Christine had felt empty and lost in their world of the upper class. Although the settings here were equally as lavish, she felt at peace with the kith and kin she had been surrounded with, feeling at peace to talk and partake of the banter as the meal, for it had been a rule in the de Changys that she and all the womenfolk be stifled, and that the younger ones to be seen and not to be heard. How different, she thought, finishing up the last few crumbs of fish, smiling at the rest as Erik was doing, a rare occurrence all in all. He called for a bottle of champagne to be brought forth, and before she knew what he was doing, she found a fluted glass in front of her and wine being poured into it.

"To you," Erik said, raising his glass. "For tomorrow…"

She blushed profusely as they all gave a clap, waiting for the clock soon to strike twelve. Taking a sip, she gave an involuntary shudder as the unfamiliar taste slid down her throat.

"Happy birthday, Christine!" Meg cried exuberantly, jumping up to give her friend a hug. Christine returned the hug, patting her friend on the back. "Thank you, Meg," she said, laughing. Slowly she released her friend. Madame Giry smiled at the girl, shaking her hand. "Happy birthday, Christine."

She then turned to Erik, who had a twinkling in his eyes, which made them almost sparkle like gems. He murmured a warm greeting to her, softly holding her hand. Sliding his palm up her arm, holding it to his eyes, he placed a soft kiss on her fingertips, making her blush from the electric tingle that was sent down her spine. She giggled, the alcohol making her heady and blush. Madame Giry coughed, and she called for dessert. A beautiful cake was brought out, a chocolate and berry cake that was lovingly prepared by…

"Me," Erik said. "Christine…I-" he found himself at a loss for words, not knowing what to say, but his face gave away the fact that he made the cake. Christine gave a small smile up at him, taking a daub of the cake with her finger. She licked it, savoring the taste of rich chocolate.

"It's good, Erik! You must teach me how to cook!" she exclaimed. He quitely promised so, before they sang the customary birthday song. After the cake was cut and each had a piece, Christine leant back against her chair, letting out a soft sigh and complimenting Erik on the cake again. They discussed about the wedding, and Erik had informed Nadir through Darius that he was invited. As the two continued to discuss their wedding and other finer details of their life they would have together, it was then Madame Giry proclaimed herself to be extremely tired, pulling Meg away from the table as Erik poured for himself and Christine another glass of champagne.

Christine giggled, the more the alcohol she imbibed, and the more it went to her head. She felt lightheaded and airy, as if her feet would not touch the ground. When Erik dragged her out of the chair, she was utterly high, raking her short fingernails over his chest, laughing softly as she watched him strain at control of himself. She let out a little mewl of pleasure as Erik pressed her harshly against the banister of the stairs and against the wall, growling deeply.

"Christine…" he said, exhaling a shaky breath. Her hands were roaming all over his body and she smiled at him with a watery smile, giggling all the more. Erik let out a strangled gasp as her hands found his straining erection, and she slid effortlessly out of his arms to prod at it like a child at a new toy. He blushed, dragging her up and reproving her with more harshness than he intended to.

"You will make me take you…and you would lose your virtue even before you are married, Christine." he said, dangerously as his voice wavered. She gave a disappointed cry, slowly shrugging off her own dress off her shoulders of her own accord. Erik held back a low moan, his alarm rising. The lacing of the dress prevented it from sliding down fully, and she gave a little cry of dismay before she clung to him with renewed fervor. The alcohol had clouded her mind such that she no longer could think, instead the fiery passions that lived on in her mind was about to translate into reality, and Erik was dangerously close to fulfilling her desires. With a huff, he put Christine over his shoulder, lifting her bodily. She kicked, exposing herself when the skirt flared up. Erik let out a groan for she wasn't wearing her pantalets. Christine began to giggle again, running her hands tantalizingly down his back, slipping into the waistband of his pants to give him a little squeeze on the buttocks.

"Daae!" he hissed, as he settled her on the bed. She would have to go to bed clothed, if he undressed Christine, his resolve would disappear with her clothes. Steeling himself, he walked out of the room, awkwardly as he felt the evidence of his want straining against his clothing. Settling into the sofa in the main hall, finding himself and his mind clouded in lust, he knelt on the cold marble floor, cupping his own manhood as he ridded himself of his clothing and relieved himself. Crying out her name as he came, he lay on the floor for a while before dragging himself to the bathroom again to clean up, drawing his own bath. The cold water sloshed over him, calming his heated body. Only two more weeks, but how could he stand his goddess that was placed before him, tempting him.

God have mercy on him and his desires.

The night was calm, save for a knocking at the door early in the morning, almost the time that the butler and Erik had risen. Both raced to the door, one in duty and the other in anticipation. No matter who was to open the door, the Phantom with his extensive knowledge of the house got there first to welcome his friend.

Erik easily covered the last few paces of the threshold with wide strides to meet his friend, a man standing there in his red turban and twirled moustache. The Daroga, the Persian. Nadir Khan. Erik greeted him with a firm handshake, a sign of their good terms and a form of memory of the past they had shared in Persia. Nadir was olive skinned, with dancing eyes that made him seem sprightly for someone older than Erik and possibly, Madame Giry. The Nice weather had been good to the man, and Erik found his friend still in good health, he fondly noticed. He smiled, leading the man to be seated, instructing the butler to rouse a maid if needed to bring tea for his early houseguest. Nadir blinked in shock, he had not known Erik to be a hospitable man in the days of Persia.

"Why, Erik, you;ve changed! And what is this I hear of you marrying?" He gave a low chuckle, his French still accented with Persian overtones. Erik nodded, emotions still in check.

"Do you know of the Phantom of the Opera?" he said, in a low voice, grimly. Nadir nodded, he had been keeping up with the news.

"Don't tell me…That white mask! Oh, Erik! I should have known earlier, Allah have mercy. You have killed more then! And this girl you marry…she is The Christine Daae, is she not?"

Erik nodded again.

"That night of the chandelier, Daroga, I was mad with anger and fear. But it seems she had forgiven all I have done. And she agreed to marry me."

"Are you sure you are not forcing her hand in this? I have heard the stories of how the Opera Ghost had hypnotized her and put her under his spell…"

"Daroga, I assure you, it is none of the sort."

"Well then, Erik my man, I am truly happy for you. Allah be praised, you are finally a family man!"

Erik let out a growl.

"No. not a family. Never a family. No child can suffer as I have, Daroga." Erik choked back the emotion, rising. He would check on Christine, to calm himself.

Erik started up the stairs, his feet padding softly on the steps. Knocking softly on her door, he pushed it open. The room reeked of vomit, and he saw Christine hugged close to herself, holding her head.

He did the first thing he had always done.

Twelve steps to Nadir.

"DAROGA! You must assist me."

What? You accuse me of torturing you, Erik? Certainly n-

Your authoress, is currently incapacitated due to her unwillingness to follow my orders, and for somewhat putting me in such a difficult situation. I had warned her of a -

Erik, get off my computer. I doubt that sexual tension and Christine having the worst hangover in the world counts as torture.

Please review! It makes me so happy!