The hushed words lingered between us like a taut string, ready to snap. They didn't come from my conscious thoughts, yet I knew they had risen from somewhere within me, in some long-buried corner of my mind. My Angel's eyes widened, the bone-chilling coldness evaporating from them. His lips parted, defiant façade slipping as he took a faltering step backward. And then…
The Bond ignited like a match striking inside my chest. The force of it was a raging fire flooding my soul, the warmth of pure wholeness seeping into my every muscle and tendon, burrowing itself in the marrow of my bones. It was a swirling symphony, like every aria I'd ever practiced for him before the mirror—every note I'd ever sung in my life—converged in this moment, this perfect crescendo we now shared.
I inhaled a shuddering breath. A spark of warmth prickled its way along my right temple and cheek. Instinctively, my gloved hand flew to the area, and I ran my fingers over it, feeling the fine ridges of the Soul Markings that bloomed there, permanently engraving their sacred, binding magic into my skin. My eyes never strayed from his as I watched his chest rise and fall. His grip on my ring loosened as I read the shocked disbelief in his dilated pupils. The chain slipped through his fingers, causing the diamond to fall and clatter down the marble staircase. His own hand flew to his mask. I knew if he removed it now, there would be matching Markings swirling across his skin, on the same side as mine—directly over his scar. The thought brought a gentle smile to my lips, my heart warming.
His hand dropped away from his mask and, without a word, he closed the distance between us. His powerful hands reached up to caress my face, cradling my cheek and neck in his gloved palms. The leather felt soft against my skin as it glided over the Marking on my temple.
"I had always dreamed of this moment," he whispered, his voice filled with awe and reverence. "But I thought it a foolish fantasy..." he said.
His touch was tender, gentle in a way I hadn't experienced since the night he'd led me through the hidden tunnels beneath the Opera House and sang that sensual, lilting melody to me in the glowing candlelight.
"…I never allowed myself to hope for it," he said. His voice was smooth as he spoke, that exquisite timber low and husky. I leaned into his hand, savoring its warmth as the aftereffects of the Bond thrummed beneath the Markings on my cheek. I didn't realize how dearly I had missed his touch, longed for it. My hand drifted up to meet his in a gentle caress, our fingers intertwining.
"Christine," Raoul's panicked voice reached me from the top of the staircase, echoing in my ears.
Harsh reality pierced through our private sanctuary, making me aware of the curious onlookers surrounding us. The euphoria that swept through me a moment ago was quickly swallowed by a wave of anxiety as their perplexed whispers jabbed at my ears like a swarm of gnats. The fingers entwined with my Angel's loosened and I reluctantly shifted my eyes from him. I peered over his shoulder to meet Raoul's worried stare as he rushed toward me.
His feet came to an abrupt stop when his gaze landed on my face. I saw the glimmer of recognition in his eyes as he registered the Markings that decorated my temple and cheekbone, clear evidence of what had just transpired between my Angel and I.
"Christine," he repeated. The words were a desperate plea this time as he took a careful step toward us. "Those Marks on your face…they're not…" Tears pricked my eyes as Raoul's expression morphed from one of concern to incredulity, his eyes flickering between me and the man I was now bound to by sacred magic.
"They weren't there before. You didn't…not with him," he stumbled over his words. A torrent of emotions flashed across his features - fear, disbelief, and deep hurt shining in his eyes.
My shoulders sagged under the weight of bewilderment and confusion. Why, out of all the secret and intimate moments my Angel and I spent together, did the Soul Bond have to reveal itself now? In front of the entire cast and half of Paris, no less! Worst of all, in front of Raoul. Whatever entity decided the Bond must be playing a sadistic joke on me as it sat on some celestial throne, cackling maniacally at my expense.
I glanced back at my Angel. My heart stuttered as his eyes darkened, the menacing coldness creeping back into them as he looked over his shoulder at Raoul. His hand left my face, reaching for the hilt of his sword as he pivoted to face him.
"Why are you here?" My Angel said. His voice was a sharp bite slicing through the tension.
Raoul's weight shifted as he glared down at us, confusion and frustration evident in every strained line of his muscles.
"Well, I was going to fight you," he responded, his voice low and guarded. "But now I just want to know what the hell is going on," he said.
I took a small step toward him. I wanted desperately to explain, to make him understand, but I didn't know where to start.
"Raoul," I said, my voice trembling. "I know it's all so sudden, but this Bond…it changes things," I said. My soft plea came out weak, almost feeble. It was woefully inadequate, and I felt a twinge of guilt as all the longing I once felt for him resurfaced. I swallowed hard, suppressing a sudden wave of nausea. Confusion and doubt gnawed at my insides. His eyes flickered from me, to the Mark decorating my face, then back to Erik. His mouth formed into a tense line as he gripped the hilt of the sword sheathed at his side.
"Does it, Christine?" Raoul said. He didn't spare me a glance as he spoke, his steely gaze fixed on my Angel's masked face. "Or does it simply bind you to a fate you do not desire?"
The challenge hung in the air between the three of us. A pang of unease shot through me. That was the ultimate question, wasn't it? But I already knew the answer. I did desire it. I always had, and that realization rattled through my bones, almost as momentous as the Soul Bond itself.
"Oh, please," my Angel scoffed, his tone full of disdain. "You had your chance, Vicomte. You are not the one. The Bond has spoken, and it is never wrong."
The undercurrent of a threat laced his words as he ascended a step toward Raoul, like a predator poised to attack its prey. The air hummed with the possibility of a violent confrontation I prayed wouldn't break out between them.
"Isn't it?" Raoul said sharply, raising his chin in defiance. He reached for his sword with a swift motion, the blade gleaming in the dim light. "You are mad! A killer!" He shouted, each statement punctuated with a jab of the blade, directing accusations towards my Angel that made me bristle as if he'd thrown them at me. But he stood calmly, barely flinching at Raoul's insults or sword jabs.
"If the Bond is truly infallible as you claim, would it have chosen a murderer?" Raoul said as he glared at my Angel, eyes alight with anger. "Maybe it isn't as perfect as you think. I'm willing to prove it here and now," Raoul said, brandishing his weapon.
My Angel scoffed.
"It would be amusing to see you try," he countered, his tone sardonic. From my vantage point, I could see the barely contained rage in the tense set of his jaw.
"But it is common knowledge that coming between a man and his fated Mate is an undertaking for morons and imbeciles," The muscles beneath his red waistcoat rippled with power. In one swift, violent motion, my Angel drew his sword once again, the blade shining with a menacing aura as he directed it at Raoul. "You must be both if you think you can attempt such a thing and live!" he spat, his voice resounding off the marble walls.
My eyes locked on the two of them, the crowd's tense whispers growing louder by the second. Blood thundered in my ears, adrenaline racing through me as I watched them face off. My muscles tensed as every instinct inside me demanded I intervene, that I stop this confrontation before it escalated further. But before I could take a step, an exasperated voice sliced through the tension.
"Enough!"
I paused. My head snapped around to see Madame Giry storming up the steps toward the three of us, skirts bunched in her hands. Her brows knit together in annoyance, marring her otherwise lovely features as she approached Raoul and my Angel.
"You will cease this belligerence at once, both of you!" Madame's voice echoed through the room, sharp and demanding. I recognized that tone from countless rehearsals when she'd had to correct a dancer's form one too many times.
Despite her slight build, her presence was intimidating as she positioned herself between Raoul and my Angel, her piercing gaze flitting between them. They both lowered their weapons, their aggressive stances relaxing at her approach. She let out an exasperated sigh before turning to Raoul, her expression softening as she placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I understand you are hurting, monsieur. But this is no way to handle it." She said. Raoul gave me one last grief-stricken glance before begrudgingly sheathing his sword.
Turning her attention to my Angel, Madame leaned in closer. Her voice was a tense whisper, barely audible to my ears as she spoke to him. Though I could only catch snippets of her hushed whispers - "dressing room" and "go quickly"-the reprimand seemed to be enough for him to sheathe his weapon as well, the lingering aggression draining from his stance.
After giving a brief nod to Madame, he turned back to me. In one fluid motion, his arm was around my waist, pulling me flush against him. His brawny forearm pressed against the small of my back as he leaned down and whispered in my ear.
"We must go now, my dear. Hold on to me tightly," he instructed.
I could only obey, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders. With a swift movement, he flung his free arm out to the side and a burst of fiery light erupted in front of my eyes, momentarily obscuring my vision. A flurry of smoke enveloped us, filling my nose and lungs, making me gasp for air. My muscles tensed as the floor dropped out from under our feet, my arms clinging desperately to my Angel as we plummeted into darkness.
A/N: It's a short chapter this time, I know, sorry. I was going to make it longer, but it's been more than a month, so I thought I'd just post the damn thing and stop agonizing over it. Anyway, would Christine have accepted a Soul Bond so readily? Probably not, but I don't care.