Chapter 10:What Raging Fire Shall Flood the Soul?
Erik had gone to fetch Christine for the morning, awakening her by throwing his voice to her a decent distance away from within the walls.
There were some mornings when he would prepare to call out, only to hear her already up and about. Regardless he would call to her, so as not to make her concerned.
After doing so, he would make his way through the tunnels leading to Carlotta's dressing room. He one day expected it to become Christine's, once she was ready to sweep all of France off their feet with her angelic voice.
The voice he guided with such gentle care. That peerless instrument that sang for him and only him.
His life had always been shrouded in darkness and spent alone. It was why he built his home underneath the Palais Garnier. Not only was he surrounded by music, but he had control over it. Power.
Power he did not have until he managed to escape that past. He managed his power over the opera house with notes of what he considered to be of amiable nature. Although Nadir found them to be questionable.
He found it amusing how he was a wanted man, and yet his only confidant had once been the chief of police.
Nadir had saved him, and Erik had returned the act by aiding in their harrowing and dangerous escape from Persia with Reza in tow.
Even long after they made it to safety, Nadir stayed by Erik's side, helping to create his home in the underworld. It took years for them to complete the project without drawing the attention of passersby and the gendarmes.
They all lived under the same roof up until that fateful Christmas Day when Reza had passed in Nadir's arms, and shortly after his death, declaring that he was to leave and live above with the promise that he would visit every so often.
Years had passed, and Erik had submerged himself into writing his own opera. The culmination of all his necessities wants, and desires.
Time was nonexistent and of little importance, as he spent his days tormenting himself over whether it could ever become the perfection that he wasn't.
But then Nadir's senseless request changed his life.
She changed his life. She saved his life.
Christine was the light he never realized he needed, He could bask in her angelic voice for all eternity and longer.
Before he knew it, two and half years passed, and he had only grown fonder of her with each passing day.
As curious as she was, she did not ask many questions. As far as she was concerned, her angel of music was to remain a secret, as was his life.
It was only a short time ago that the weeks following Christmas on that one day when she had grown distraught over his rejection of having their lessons in the physical presence of each other led her to storm out on him, throwing his cloak to the ground before him.
He understood her indignation and despondency, for he too had felt outraged by his own words. He felt as though he had betrayed himself, and it was because he had.
He wanted her.
In all his foolishness, he continued to push her away until it came to this breaking point. He regretted the words he said the moment they flew from his lips, and hours later, he would go to check on her. Just to check on her.
But she was gone. Only a few hours past midnight and she was not safely tucked into her bed. He had hastily made his way to the chapel, but much to his concern, she was not there either.
He had traveled through the walls, scoping out every room until he spotted a shadow rounding a corner to enter the stables.
Erik overheard her soft voice telling the driver to take her to the cemetery, and he knew she was visiting her father's mausoleum.
She needed time, he had repeatedly told himself as her carriage disappeared in the distance.
The snow had been falling gently from the skies, but within a half-hour, the storm picked up and the snowfall became heavier.
And the carriage returned without Christine.
Alarm had burned hot through him, and before he could think, he was at the hidden entrance to Rue Scribe upon Caesar, racing through the empty streets of Paris.
The ferocity of the storm did not deter him from slowing, and in a painstaking amount of time, he had arrived at the cemetery gates, throwing them open to make his way to the mausoleum.
He cursed himself upon finding it empty and locked, and besides his in the snow were dainty small footprints leading back to the entrance.
In the haze of the snow, it had become difficult to spot the continuing path, but he leaped back onto Caesar and followed the trail to her retreating figure, which ducked off the road as he approached.
He swung himself off and caught her in a firm grip, and she had bitten down upon his gloved hand. He had been quick to reassure her and wrap her within the cloak that she had abandoned, leading her back to the safety and warmth of the opera house.
And after the early events of the day, it had led to him extending the offer of giving her lessons together in his realm.
Erik was pulled from his reminiscing and reflection when he heard the dressing room door open, revealing her to him.
She always favored her blue dress with champagne-colored flowers over the rest of her wardrobe, and he could certainly see why.
Christine was the most beautiful angel he had ever laid his eyes on.
He immediately noticed a subtle change in her posture, but he thought nothing of it as she approached the mirror and he pushed down the lever, allowing the mirror to slide on the tracks.
"Good morning, Christine", he greeted her warmly. She graciously took his hand, and he could feel the heat of her skin through his glove.
Although they had been having her lessons in his home for over a week, he was still careful when it came to the preciseness of where to step to avoid the traps.
It was more than easy for him to disable them, but he convinced himself of the possibility of forgetting to undo it.
He glanced behind every so often, and every time her head was slightly bent downwards.
She was silent this morning, and it worried him.
Christine was never this quiet.
He racked his mind with endless possibilities of what could've made her this way, and they continued their journey in silence.
Reaching the gondola, he hung the lantern of the front of the boat and stepped in, turning to lift her from the waist.
Christine gasped loudly as his hands made contact with her, and her eyes jerked up to his. He quickly retracted his hands from her. "What's wrong? Christine?" Concern gnawed away at him.
She shook her head, her curls bouncing at the motion. "I'm sorry", she apologized, reaching out and gripping his hand, and Erik moved back to her waist to lift her swiftly into the boat.
Christine curled up to the edge of the boat, laying her head against the decorative pillows that rested there. The emerald hues of her eyes disappeared underneath her eyelids as they fluttered shut.
Erik's lips thinned as he watched her pull a pillow close to her. Did she not have an adequate amount of rest?
His eyes never left her small figure as he rowed away from the dock.
Upon arriving at the outstretched boardwalk, Christine awakened and rubbed the signs of sleep away from the corners of her eyes.
He tied the edge of the boat to the cleat and stepped out, extending his hands towards her. She stood on wavering feet and the boat shook under her.
Erik wrapped his arms under her shoulders and easily plucked her from the boat, his hands resting on her a few seconds longer to ensure she was steady.
He ushered her through the corridors to the iron gate, and he fished out the key from his waistcoat, quickly unlocking it and leading her through and across the bridge.
He opened the front door and Christine was already unfastening his cloak from around her shoulders. She slowly dragged it from her shoulders and Erik took it from her, hanging it in the coat closet along with his own.
Under the light of the chandelier, Christine's features were more highlighted, revealing the pale shade of her face, her lips dry and cracked and her eyes unfocused.
His voice cut through the silence that surrounded them. "We will only do a half lesson today, my dear". His mind begged him to take her back, but he knew she would adamantly refuse. "Christine?" He called as she remained inattentive.
Her head perked up at her name. "Yes?" Her eyes were wide in confusion.
Erik sighed deeply, running a hand down his mask. "Come, my dear".
They walked into the music room, where he already had tea prepared on a side table for her. "Drink", he requested in a loud enough tone for her to hear. She nodded slowly, picking up the cup and raising it to her lips.
Erik shuffled through a pile of organized compositions and chose some easier, fairly shorter pieces for practice and he brought them over to her, placing them beside the kettle.
He gingerly took a seat at the piano and he turned to face her. "Let's begin with your scales".
Christine did so several minutes later after she finished her tea. As she reached the higher notes of the scale, her voice did not come out as strong. Erik ripped his hands from the piano keys to look at her.
"Let's try again, my dear. Take a deep breath and straighten your posture", he commanded softly. Christine looked down to her feet and touched them together before raising her head and starting over.
Her scales were still off from what he normally expected, but he let it go. "Very good, let's start our first piece…"
Over an hour later, they had completed two pieces, and she continued to with the same issues from before with her posture and breathing.
Eventually, he had enough, allowing his mind to take control. He spun around on the chair, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping his foot impatiently.
What could possibly have her head in the clouds?
He could feel a frown creasing his lips. "Christine!" He raised his voice clearly with morose, her attention quickly snapping to him.
Her eyes were as wide as a doe's and her shoulders stiffened then slacked, her breathing becoming rapid, and Erik felt a twinge of regret feeling as though he came across harshly.
Christine's hand crept up to rest on her cheek. "I'm sorry", she murmured, her cheeks flushing.
Erik hoped his eyes weren't deceiving him as perspiration began to dot along her face. In an instant he was standing, "What is the matter? Is something troubling you? You have yet to maintain focus on any piece this morning", he gestured over to the composition that sat forgotten on the side table.
He took a step closer to her, his brow furrowing. "What is on your mind, my dear?"
Christine shook her head, her gaze averting from his. "Nothing. Let's continue", she prevaricated in a soft voice, nearly a whisper.
Erik was not easily swayed, however. He raised a hand from his side, moving it towards her forehead, remembering her warm hand upon his earlier. "That is the second time this morning, Christine".
Her eyes jerked to his hand and swatted it away swiftly. Erik inhaled sharply, staring deep into her panicked eyes.
Did she believe he would hurt her?
It felt as if a bucket of ice-cold water had been tossed over him. Something was wrong. Oh so terribly wrong.
"I'm so sorry", she whispered, her eyes refusing to meet his. Her words tore away at him, and worry overcame him.
Even amid his emotions, he told her, "My dear, I hope that is not how you hit on other suitors". He had meant it to uplift the somber mood in the room, but his tone was monotone.
He looked her over, now noticing the small wavering in her form as the fabric of her dress brushed the floor, making a barely audible scratching sound. He looked to her knowingly, and she did not protest when he brought his hand upon her forehead.
She was warm.
Erik's chest constricted with the realization that he had made her practice in an ill state. He cursed himself for not recognizing it.
God, he watched her fall asleep momentarily in the boat and it wasn't enough of a sign for him. He saw how pale her skin had been and her inattentiveness.
Damn him!
His throat tightened and he tried to swallow a lump that formed in his throat. He clucked his tongue in hid disappointment. "You're warm", he pointed to her.
His hand wound around her back for support and he placed a gentle pressure upon her, urging her to follow him. "Come".
Erik numbly led her from the music room, but she abruptly stopped as they reached the threshold. "Erik, let's just continue, I am fine", she tried to stop him.
He could feel anger rising in him as she continued to push her condition aside. "You are not perfectly fine, my dear", was all he could reply with, his voice coming out harsh.
"I'm sorry", she whispered again.
Erik breathed deeply, regaining his composure. He led her through the foyer and started up the stairs. "It is not you I am disappointed with, Christine. It is myself for failing to see your visible decline in health".
Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched her head hang low, and a whimper nearly escaped him.
What could he do to put that beautiful smile back on her face?
He led her down the hallway into the guest room, and she was instantly drawn to the room, her gaze moving over everything. Her posture straightened and she turned to face him, a hesitated look forming on her features.
He could only anticipate what she was about to ask. "Is this place your-?"
Erik cut her off quickly with reassurances. "You need not fear, my dear. This is a guest room", he told her, his hand forming soothing circles on the back of her dress just above the bow.
"Oh". Christine's shoulders sagged in relief.
He guided her over to the bed and gestured for her to sit, and she did so acquiescently. "I will bring up some tea for you, and then you will rest. I will write to Antoinette informing her of your absence today", he began, turning around to fetch the kettle from the music room, but Christine's hand upon his sleeve stopped him.
"But the production begins in two days! How could I even begin to make up for missing a rehearsal so soon to opening?" She voiced her worry. He could practically see the gears turning in her exquisite head.
"They will find a way to work around it. It would be morally reprehensible for anyone to practice or perform in such a sickly state", he told her obstinately.
There was no way in hell he would allow it.
Her hand left his sleeve and she began muttering softly, only catching the last few words about Monsieur LeFevre taking action against her.
Those thoughts fueled his anger. "Monsieur LeFevre wouldn't dare do a thing. Not if I have anything to say about it", he hissed.
Taking his tone into account, he backed away towards the doorway. "The bathroom is the door on the left at the end of the hall, should you require it".
Her voice stopped him in his tracks when he heard her say, "Thank you, Erik. But if I may ask, why do you do so much for me? Why do you take such care of me? More often than not, I feel that I am an overwhelming burden on your shoulders…"
He suddenly found himself on his knees before her, gazing into her luscious green eyes and her hands in his. "You have never been a burden, Christine. You are a star Christine, the only star lighting my night sky. You have brought light into my darkness. You have brought the sun to a monster who never thought he would see the light again".
Christine's eyes flew open and she tore her hands from his, and she ran it down his mask, "You are not a monster, Erik. This face doesn't define you!" Her voice was adamantly desperate in her confession.
Erik shook his head in denial. "Oh but I am a monster, Christine. I have done things, monstrous things you could never begin to imagine".
If she knew about Persia…. He would lose her forever.
And yet, she was caressing the veil that covered him, as if she were embracing him. The thought of that reality would've sent him to his knees if he wasn't already on them. "I hope someday I can prove to you just how worthy you are of everything you deserve".
God, how he wished he had been born differently! To be blessed with a life of normalcy. "But I will never be worthy or deserving of you. It is clear that you pity me, and I do not want your pity".
And then she sunk on the floor beside him. He could feel tears biting at the corner of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He couldn't cry. Not in front of her.
He had to be strong for her.
"It is not pity, but compassion", she told him, inching closer to him. "Don't you see that you matter to me?"
His eyes rose to meet hers, and they sparkled with an emotion he couldn't place. "Do you sincerely mean those words? I… matter to you?"
He broke as she said, "More than anything".
She brought his hand to her warm cheek and she leaned into him. A touch he hadn't even initiated.
He knew in that moment he loved her.
Erik let loose an ardent sob and Christine pulled him into her, and he allowed her to. She wrapped her arms around his back tightly, and his arms could only remain slacked at his sides.
His beautiful angel. His Christine.
He could never let her go. He would never let her go.
She was his as he was hopelessly devoted to her.
A small sniffle had Erik pushing her away and leading her back onto the bed. He brought his hand up to cup her cheek, his thumb running over the red in her cheeks.
"I will be right back, my dear", he told her. He quickly left the room to fetch the tea, which had likely run cold. He would need to make a new pot.
Closing the door behind him, he leaned against a nearby wall and raised a hand to rest over his heart. That rapidly beating heart that resided within him.
She had given him life. She gave him a meaning, a reason to live.
His Christine had embraced him with open arms, with no regard to his mask. Perhaps Heaven could truly exist.
His chest tightened as his rapid breathing grew deep, and he clutched the banister of the staircase, peeling himself away to descend the stairway to the kitchen.
Erik impetuously pulled out the wooden canister filled with loose tea and scooped it into a new kettle and placed it upon the stovetop.
He was impatient as he stared down the kettle, waiting for steam to sprout from the spout.
Concern for her voice dug at him, and he dearly hoped she would not experience a sore, raspy throat. The thought of it irked him, and his mind could only paint the picture of a continuous decline in her health.
What a wretched creature he was to have allowed her to sing today. In all his selfishness of longing to hear her voice, he neglected to notice the smallest, yet most obvious of details.
Erik was brought from his thoughts as a small whistling noise erupted from the kettle. With careful and experienced hands, he brought the kettle from the stove to a tray already prepared with a mug and cloth napkin and set it down beside them.
He carried the tray from the kitchen to the upstairs and he paused outside her door. He moved the tray to balance in one hand and he rapped on the door with his other. "Christine?"
He could barely make out her muffled voice saying "Come in".
Turning the knob, he strode over to the nightstand, placing down the tray and pouring the tea into the mug. He held it out to her. "Drink, otherwise you shall wake with a sore throat. That is the last thing your precious instrument needs".
Christine moved to sit up and the blanket fell, revealing her bare arms and the drop in the shift across the bodice, which hung dangerously low on her. Her skin was unmarred, flawless, and pale. How he longed to run his hands across her delicious skin, exploring the phenomenon of her figure.
Within him, he could feel the stirrings of arousal building and he shifted uncomfortably in his trousers.
His hands trembled as he handed her the mug, which she thankfully took quickly. Once it was out of his hands, he turned away as he grew tighter below.
His mind went into a frenzy as he tried to push away the visible shame. There was no way he could turn around to face her as long as her skin remained visible to his hungry eyes.
Oh, how he starved for her.
Erik needed to leave, now. Stuttering threatened to consume him as he spoke to her. "I will leave you to sleep. I shall be back later to check on you. I will be in the music room, should you need me".
"Erik?"
Her smooth voice stopped him, and he only turned his head to glance back at her from where he stood in the doorway. "My dear?"
"Downstairs, in the music room next to the piano is a fabric bag. Could you please bring it up for me?" Christine requested.
Erik needed no further encouragement to leave, and he did so rapidly. Making his way to the music room, he groaned as the discomfort grew unbearable.
Just push it away, keep it at bay. Christine would revolt with disgust if she knew…. His mind screamed to him.
He pushed into the room, and just as she said, he plucked the bag from beside the piano and returned, the pressure now gone.
He walked over to her and placed it gently in her lap. "Thank you, Erik". She unknotted the top of the bag and she pulled out a wrapped item and held it out to him. "It's for you".
He tentatively took it and his eyes moved between her and the item in his hands with intrigue and confusion.
A gift for him?
He pulled away the paper edges, revealing a cheesecake with garnishes. "Oh, Christine", he breathed.
His angel brought him a dessert.
Christine's face turned away, but in the candlelight, it was easy to see a blush creeping upon her. "I went to the patisserie with my friends last night, and when I saw it, I thought you may enjoy one. I was unaware if you were able to obtain one because of…"
"My mask? Do not worry for me my dear, I simply peruse the stores through different means", his tone held no resentment as he remained in awe.
His words seemed to spark a reaction as she turned to face him, her curls flying over her shoulders. He mentally processed his words as she began, "Surely you don't mean-" She lifted the mug to her lips.
Understanding clicked and he was quick to reassure her, avoiding a laugh in the process. "Nadir does not aid and albeit in theft, my dear. The Daroga is a former police chief. He helps me obtain the things I cannot on my own by legal means, rest assured".
He could never thank Nadir enough.
She pulled out her cheesecake and held it before him. "We shall have to eat them together after I rest for a little bit", she told him. Her bare arm lifted a hand to her face to rub at her eyes, and he knew it was time to leave her to rest.
She placed her cheesecake back into the bag and he did as well, knotting the top of the bag. "I will store it in a cool place to preserve it".
Her jaded eyes weighed down heavily, and he crept closer to the edge of the bed. "Erik…Would you sing for me?"
Christine's request momentarily stunned him, but if that would make her happy and at ease, he would do it.
He would do anything for her.
"I can deny you nothing, Christine", he whispered softly. He allowed his hands to move to her bare shoulders, and as he lowered her into the mattress, he reveled in her soft, smooth skin.
Christine's skin was softer than even the finest materials. She was priceless.
He pulled the duvet cover over her, once again hiding away her skin from his view. "You say those words all the time, 'I can deny you nothing'".
She turned on her side to face him and she curled into the warmth of the sheets. Her ringlet auburn strands of hair cascaded over her face, and his hand was instantly upon her face brushing them away. Her eyes drifted shut as the tips of his fingers danced along the features of her face.
"It is the truth", he told her with sincerity, his hand coming to rest on her cheek.
Erik breathed deeply and let his baritone voice flow from his lips, filling the room.
She placed her hand over his tiredly, and he could see her slowly succumbing to sleep as her breathing slowed to an even rhythm.
Erik remained beside her several minutes after she had fallen asleep, taking in her softened angelic form. No one could ever compare.
He eventually tore himself away, moving her hand to rest on the pillow her head rested on. Gazing upon her with all he had, he whispered "You matter to me too, Christine".
Christine remained asleep for many hours, and Erik checked on her frequently, monitoring her temperature, which thankfully went down.
After just over ten hours, Erik had become pragmatic with worry, pacing around the foyer.
He had enough medical knowledge to know it was normal for those who were ill to rest longer, but ten hours.
Ten hours with his angel so close, yet so far.
It soon came time for him to check back on her, and he made his way upstairs and into the guest room, which had been pitched into darkness after the candle burned out.
He moved to the bedside and knelt before her, where she had turned over in bed, the duvet cover coming to rest just under her nose. With slow caution, he pulled the duvet cover away from her airway, and once it was tucked under her chin, she sighed deeply, curling tighter into the pillow.
His beautiful angel.
Erik could never be any more fortunate to have such an ethereal being in his home. For the rest of his life, he would worship the young woman who had unknowingly changed him.
It truly was ironic. The monster falling for the beauty.
"Oh, Christine…"
He heard her groan softly in response, and for a hopeful moment, he believe she had stirred. But much to his disappointment she remained asleep.
At least she is alive, Erik, he thought repeatedly.
A loud knock had the front door had Erik silently scrambling from the room. As he approached the door, he brought a hand to his back pocket to rest on a coil of wire.
Swinging the door open, Nadir looked to him sternly and he smoothly moved his hand away from the pocket.
Nadir's arms were crossed over his chest with impatience. "Where is she, Erik?"
Erik glanced up the stairs behind him before stepping outside the front door, closing it behind him. "Sleeping. The poor thing was feverish this morning". He walked over to the edge of the bridge, leaning against the stake that safely secured it.
"How brazen you are, Erik. Have you lost your damn mind?" Nadir told him incredulously. His eyes narrowed in his direction and Erik rolled his eyes in response.
"She is safe here, Daroga, you have no reason for concern", he remarked bodaciously.
Nadir held a single finger up in front of him. "She does not belong here, and you know that! If she is here against her will-"
"She is most definitely not here against her will, but rather as per her wishes. You don't believe me? Ask her yourself when she awakens", he cut him off harshly.
Nadir moved to the front door in precise stride. His hand wavered on the knob. He looked over to Erik with a defeated look. "How long?"
"Over a week she had been having her voice lessons down here".
The answer seemed to barely satisfy his friend. He began to turn the knob open, saying "Antoinette looked about ready to behead me on the spot as she read your note in front of me. She is deeply disappointed that you didn't allow her to take care of her".
They stepped into the foyer. "They would not have gone to the lengths I have to ensure her immediate and proper care, Daroga".
Nadir nodded in knowing agreement but nonetheless responded with "And I disagree on that. Antoinette cares for her as her own-"
Erik began to grow agitated. "As she does for the rest of the corps de ballet. She cannot stop now two days before the performance to care for her".
Nadir sighed, taking several steps further into the foyer. "I understand, Erik but", his head turned sharply to face the drawing-room. His eyes widened slightly but stood straight. "Ah, Mademoiselle Daaé, it is a pleasure to see you again", he greeted her, tipping his hat to her.
Christine!
In an instant, Erik's feet moved from beneath him, bringing him into the room to kneel at her side. Taking in her appearance, he immediately noticed the color had returned to her skin and she was wearing the black robe he had laid out for her after taking her clothes to wash away the sickness that could've clung to it.
Erik's eyes lifted to meet her luscious emerald hues, which now shone with…euphoria? She was pleased to see him.
He placed the back of his hand across her forehead, and he shuddered in relief as it came back normal. "How are you feeling, my dear?"
Her body relaxed before him. "As if I was never sick at all. Perhaps I just needed the rest".
Those words made him relax just as much, his shoulders dropping from the tense hold they had unknowingly been held in.
"You certainly needed the rest, my dear. You slept nearly eleven hours", he stifled a laugh.
Christine suddenly jerked forward in her seat, and Erik's chest tightened in consternation, his hands flying to grasp her forearms.
Dread filled him, thoughts of lingering sickness filling his mind.
"Eleven hours? I must return at once!" She gasped, her eyes widening in a panic.
"I agree", Nadir agreed from behind her.
"Absolutely not!" Erik admonished her with an authoritative voice.
Erik's brow arched, and he could see Nadir's hands lift in surrender, but he took a step forward, leading Erik to leave her side to stand protectively in front of the armchair she sat in.
"Erik she doesn't belong down here", he repeated exasperatedly.
"I believe that is for Christine to decide", he tilted his head in her direction, "What do you wish to do, my dear?"
A part of him feared she would leave and never return, that she would tell him straight to his face that Nadir was right, and she didn't belong there and should never come back.
He could feel a burning sensation build in the back of his throat as he hesitantly anticipated her choice.
But his heart soared to life in his chest as his beloved angel stood from the armchair, the black robe hugging her body and pooling around her feet like watery silk.
And Christine, his tangible angel sauntered to his side and placed a hand upon his lower back, rendering him defenseless to her charms.
He knew Christine as he knew the Palais Garnier, and when her lips turned upwards into an innocently seductive smile as she held tight to him, staring Nadir down with a gentle ferocity, he knew.
She had chosen him.
The heart within his chest pounded roughly against his ribs, and he could feel himself being painted scarlet with his own blood diffusing to his face and ears.
"I would like to finish my lesson where we left off if that is alright Mon Ange Noir".
He strongly fought off the urge to release a primal growl that had built in his throat in response to her secretly possessive words. That name of darkness she had labeled him with. Gods he wanted her, and she knew.
She knew. That little minx knew.
He could feel the stirrings of arousal build tenfold and he squeezed her small dainty hand tightly in his, and he moved to the front door, urging Nadir to see his way out. Quickly.
"You heard the woman, Daroga. We will continue our conversation another time. I thank you for visiting", his words hurriedly left him, lacking any civility.
Erik swiftly shut the door behind him.
He turned to face his angel, who leaned back against the armchair with a hand over her mouth, stifling those giggles that sputtered from her lips in a feeble attempt to withhold them.
His eyes roamed over her with a hunger that threatened to consume him, and his blood felt as if it had been lit on fire.
He stalked over to Christine and pulled her tightly into him, his lips bowing to her ear, the scent of roses overwhelming his senses. "You are a vixen, Christine Daaé".
And she played right into his game, lifting herself onto her toes to whisper upon his ear. "And you are an opera ghost, Monsieur Erik".
Her words were playful, but he did not miss the slight raise of the pitch in her voice, and he growled in response, lifting her weightless body to sit on the arm of the chair.
Christine's head craned upwards, and he stared deeply into those delectable pools of emerald. Green had become his favorite color the moment he had first set his eyes upon her.
Her leg slowly hitched up the side of his, and her hands flew to his sides, gripping his waistcoat.
He could feel the unmistakable tightness in his trousers, and he bit back a groan. His hands moved across her body, with one tangling in the soft curls of her auburn hair and the other slowly moving to rest on the side of her chest just below her arm, his thumb trailing across the side of her breast.
A gasp left her lips and she all but threw her body against his, and her arm moved to wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to her.
She knew exactly what she was doing as her face inched closer to his, and he struggled to restrain himself. He would not last much longer if she continued past this point of no return.
"Christine…" his warning emitted from him as a groan, his eyes clenching shut.
He felt her hands shift from his waist to his cravat and his unmasked cheek. He anxiously opened his eyes to find hers swirling with desire.
He gripped her even tighter, his thumb exerting more pressure on her chest. "What do you want, Christine?"
Just say the word, My Angel. Say the word and I will forever be yours.
She pulled down tightly on his cravat and Erik swallowed a lump building in his throat. His finger drifted further to the hardened peaks he could make out through the layers of fabric.
And then her pleading voice. "Please, Erik! You. Only you!"
The invisible chains Erik had built for himself shattered with his resolve and he firmly gripped her hips and pulled her against him, locking her legs around him. "Hold onto me, my dear", he purred into her ear.
Christine's arms were instantly around his neck and he pulled her from the couch, bringing her into the music room. Once inside, he kicked the door shut with his foot, his eyes never leaving hers. "Are you sure, Christine?"
His angel nodded with urgency, and he no longer had reason to hold back from her. In an instant, they were across the room in front of the piano, and he pulled down the wooden cover, clicking it shut. He skillfully dropped her down atop of the cover, and he stared as the creamy skin of her legs revealed themselves to him as the robe hitched up her legs in adjustment.
He was standing before her, gazing at his alluring angel. "I want to hear you sing for me". He settled between her slightly parted legs and his hands moved to rest against the sides of her neck, slowly moving upwards and his thumbs brushing over the center of her throat.
"My Angel of Music", he groaned, pulling her tightly against him as his hand moved to hold the back of her neck in a gentle, yet firm grip.
She gasped in return, her hands moving to caress the bare side of his face and grasp his shoulder. He could feel her thumb running across his face, and for a moment, he wished to flinch in response.
Her touch was magic.
His name left her lips and she trembled as his head lowered to her collarbone, her hand leaving his face to his neck, urging him closer into her. His hand raked from her hips to her thigh in a painstakingly slow pace, and he tugged on her curls with caution, baring her throat to him.
Erik trailed open-mouthed kisses along her neck, grazing the sensitive flesh with his teeth. She lifted the leg that his hand rested on to his hip, and she moaned that name into his ear as he nipped at her skin.
"My Angel of Darkness".
Driven by his lust, his hips jerked into hers, momentarily alleviating the tightness in his trousers and eliciting a loud cry of pleasure from her. "God, the things you do to me, my angel".
Suddenly his cravat was gone from his tunic, and she was unbuttoning his tunic, exposing a fraction of his chest to her. And then she kissed his skin.
God, he would spend the rest of his life worshipping her.
He groaned as her lips continued to plant themselves among his skin. The warm, wet feeling of her tongue met his skin and they both moaned into each other when Erik's hips bucked into her again.
Erik slowly parted his angel's legs wider, allowing him to complete the distance between them. He made his way up to the lobe of her ear, and he moved aside the curly strands of hair to place his tongue within the shell of her ear.
The moment his appendage met her ear, she gasped in a loud pitch, and she pulled him tighter against her. "Please, Erik, more!"
His Angel begged him desperately, and he was all too willing to oblige her.
He could deny her nothing.
He growled with a primal voice. "Is this what you want, my Angel?" He thrust himself against her core and she helplessly nodded, dizzy with need. He thrust again, sending them both into a spiral of pleasure.
Christine's legs wrapped around his hips, urging him even closer, faster, harder.
Her head sunk into his chest as she fisted his tunic, his mouth still focusing on her ear. He bit down gently and ran his tongue along with it. Thrusting against her again, he watched her head fly back at the action, her lustful, seductive eyes meeting his as he pulled away from her.
She raised her hand to once again caress his bare cheek, and he could feel perspiration from his temple slide onto her finger.
"You are mine, Christine. Mine! Do you hear me?" he told her roughly, relentlessly thrusting himself against her, and he gripped heaven tighter.
"Only yours, my Angel of Darkness!" His Angel moaned loudly, her eyes still fixed on his.
Her expression tightened at his words, "Oh God, Erik I'm…."
"Come for me, my Angel!" He commanded her, and he continued to thrust against her with reckless abandon until he found his peak, his face burrowing into her neck, her trembling figure as she came down from hers.
His beautiful Angel. God he loved her.
His Christine.
Her soft voice called his name, beckoning him to gaze into her eyes, which stared upon him in a mix of adoration, adrenaline, and surprise.
His mind was suddenly filled with thoughts of regret, and he felt his rapidly beating heart constrict.
What has he just done to his angel? She allowed him to….
Consumed by guilt, he began to back away from her, but she caught him by the collar of his tunic and she tugged him down to her lips.
He was being kissed by his Angel. His Angel.
In the midst of the action, he froze, his mind trying to determine his flight or fight response.
But then she backed away, her eyes tinted with lust. Guilt slowly crept into those innocent orbs, "I'm sorry, Erik…. I shouldn't have kissed you without asking first".
Her hand lifted to cover her mouth, and she slipped off the piano and moved to the door, soft whimpers escaping her lips.
But Erik loved her. He loved her, and she needed to know.
He reached from behind her and gripped her forearm, spinning her around and pressing his lips to her with a demanding pressure. He tilted his face, fearing his mask would dig into her fragile skin. She wet her lips with her tongue and she moved them against his dry ones.
Christine's hands searched for his, intertwining their fingers together.
And then she was in a fit of giggles, and he pulled away, a shocked smile crossing his lips. "My dear, I think-"
"We should eat our cheesecakes?" She finished.
A laugh escaped his lips. A genuine laugh. "A brilliant idea".
He pulled their clasped hands from the music room to the kitchen, and she laughed the entire way.
Erik, for the most part, was a night owl, a creature of habit. He never slept for long. But that night, he had one of the best nights of his life, and he awoke early to begin composing.
He stood in his kitchen, sipping his tea and overlooking a composition from his opera, overcome with inspiration by the angel who slept just up the stairs.
The previous day's events filled his mind, and he couldn't prevent the grin that plastered itself across his face.
His beautiful Christine.
It was evident that she was not the innocent rose he originally believed her to be, and it made him desire her even more.
She had pressed her soft lips upon his without fear, taking him by surprise.
A twinge of guilt tugged at him for not being the one to initiate it first, but hesitation prevented him from mustering the temerity to do so.
But now he ruminated on what this meant for them.
He heard a creaking sound out from upstairs and he straightened his posture, anticipating for his angel to come down the stairs. But when the hall remained silent he shrugged his shoulders.
Perhaps she was still asleep...
His heart suddenly dropped in his chest, blood running cold when her frantic voice traveled from her room.
"Erik!"
In an instant, the mug slipped from his hand, shattering against the floor as his feet carried him to her at an inhuman rate.
Hello, Lovelies! Sorry for the late update, I wrote another chapter of the story before writing this one, so I had to write this one before publishing the other for obvious reasons. I hope you all enjoyed Erik's POV of the previous chapter! Please feel free to review, they make my day so much brighter to read them! Until next time!
Your Obedient Servant
-Emma51020