Chapter 18

"Erik, I'm—"

The greeting died on my lips the minute I walked through the door; my words cut off by the sharp gasp that seemed to reverberate unnaturally around the entryway and the small living room.

The worn leather strap of my purse slipped off my shoulder as I stared in awe at the scene in front of me. Dozens upon dozens of candles were positioned around the room, their tiny flames winking and flickering brightly from the tops of the coffee and ends tables and along the thin edge of the mantle. A fire crackled and burned cheerfully in the hearth, filling the small room with welcoming heat and the wonderfully wintery scent of wood smoke.

Lowering my purse to the floor I unbuttoned my coat and draped it over the back of the couch. Had I ever seen so many candles? Honestly, I didn't even know I owned this many!

"Erik?"

I felt the subtle shift in atmosphere, that strange crackling sensation that always seemed to announce Erik's presence, and moments later he appeared almost of out nowhere, materializing from the dark shadows that lingered around the perimeter of the front room. For one breathtaking moment, dark and light seemed at war with one another, the golden light valiantly trying to beat back the insidious grip the darkness had on him. The light inevitably won out, washing over him as he stepped farther into the room.

The softness of the candlelight was kind to him. It smoothed out the edges of his mask and made the usually crisp lines of his clothing appear dull and hazy. I was used to seeing him swathed in shadows, and I'd seen how he looked under the harsh bright white of electric lights, but I'd never seen him bathed in the warm glow of candles before, and I realized with a sudden unidentifiable jolt that this is how he must have looked to Christine Daaé during their many lessons in his house on the lake.

I was beginning to understand why her heart and her mind were constantly in conflict with one another. There was something strangely seductive about the way that amber light folded around him, about the way he carried himself with a sort of unhurried grace. It instilled him with confidence and gave just the briefest of glimpses of the awesome power and control that slept beneath the surface of his cool, aloof demeanor. It was hard not to stare at him whenever he was around.

"Welcome home, Christine," he said politely with a slight bow of his head. As he did so, the firelight bounced of his black mask, deepening the intensity of his yellow eyes. "I trust your evening out went well?"

"Um…yeah."

"You don't sound so certain."

"No, it's not that. It's just…I've never seen you like this before."

"Like what?" His dark brows furrowed, the thin lines disappearing behind his mask as he spread his hands out and glanced down at his chest. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

"By candlelight. It's…it's nice."

Sexy as hell was what I really meant.

A whisper-soft shiver rippled over my skin, making it tingle and the tiny hairs stand on end.

Erik smiled a smile that told me he was completely unaware of the heated thoughts racing through my mind and gestured toward the couch.

"Come. Tell me about your evening."

For reasons that I couldn't fully explain, I was reluctant to tell him about my date with Jake. I wasn't ready to admit that I had feelings for my boss. Those feelings were wrong and misplaced but at the same time getting harder and harder to ignore. And somehow, I wasn't sure Erik would approve.

"It was fun," I hedged. "Much needed. But…." I hesitated, pausing right before I got to the couch. "The whole time I was gone my thoughts kept wandering back here to…uh…to you."

"To me?"

Wringing my hands together, I bit my lip and turned to him.

"I can't stop thinking about our conversation earlier, a-about holding your hands and how it felt so real," I confessed. "Erik, when you touched me, did you feel it too?"

He was quiet for what seemed like ages, and when he finally spoke, his voice was breathy and had dropped an entire octave. "Yes."

I stood there for a moment, trying desperately to gather enough courage to continue, and then I held out my hand. Erik's dark gaze darted questioningly between my face and my open palm, but it didn't take long for his curiosity to overpower his reticence. Slowly, he raised his own hand, flexing it once uncertainly before settling his palm on top of mine.

His fingers were as cold as the grave. I could feel the chill in them even through his leather gloves, and yet the feel of them still managed to set my blood on fire. Every nerve ending in my body exploded all at once, flooding me with a variety of sensations that left me feeling giddy, shaken, and breathless.

Feigning more confidence than I felt, I held his gaze steady and turned his hand over, tracing a zigzagging path across his open palm with my fingertip.

"Can you feel this?" I asked in a whisper.

Erik's hand curled into a fist around my fingers, crushing them together as a shudder coursed through his body. With a look of pained astonishment, he closed his eyes and pulled me toward him, clutching my hand to his chest.

"No…," he choked as he covered my hand with both of his and tightened his grip. "No one has ever touched Erik with kindness before." His yellow-gold eyes fluttered open. "Do you know how long I've waited…?"

I slowly shook my head, afraid that any other movement or sound would ruin the moment.

"More than a lifetime," he breathed.

Although his grasp was strong, his hands were trembling. Those beautiful, expressive eyes of his clouded with unshed tears, silently betraying the emotional turmoil he was so desperately trying to keep hidden. In that moment, the desire to pull him into my arms and hold him was damn near overwhelming.

Throwing caution to the wind, I moved closer and placed my free hand over his, both of which were still pressing my right hand to his heart. He swayed slightly, savoring the sensation of that gentle contact.

"What about this?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

He nodded emphatically, seemingly incapable of doing or saying anything else.

I lifted my left hand and let my fingers ghost along his jawline until they wrapped firmly around the back of his neck. "And this? Can you feel this?"

Erik's entire body went rigid, as though he was preparing himself for the pain that would inevitably follow being touched. His eyes searched mine, trying to determine the level of potential threat, and when he realized that I didn't intend to hurt or expose him, he relaxed. His hands, which had up until that point still been clinging to my right hand, latched onto my shoulders.

"Christine—"

At the sound of my name, my eyes dropped to his mouth and suddenly I was pulling him toward me, guiding him to where my lips were eagerly waiting to prove to him that he was just as desirable and just as deserving of love as anyone else.

I woke up with a start. My heart was hammering in my chest, making my blood pump so fast and so hard that it thundered in my ears. Gasping, I sat up and peered through the inky blackness. Gone was the soft, welcoming glow of dozens of flickering candles, replaced instead by the lifeless, shadowy silhouettes of my footboard, dresser, and the standing mirror in the corner.

I was in my bedroom.

I moaned and pulled my legs to my chest, resting my forehead against my knees as I tried to get my bearings.

It had all been a dream.

In reality, the house had been quiet and dark when I'd gotten home from the pub. Unlike in my dream, Erik hadn't been there to greet me at the door. Which was fine since I'd been too busy feeling sorry for myself to want to stop and chat with him anyway. Instead, I'd hightailed it upstairs, stripped out of my clothes, and went straight to bed.

Unnerved by the remnants of those dreamy images, I pushed the covers back and climbed out of bed. There was no way I was going to fall back asleep any time soon. Not after that. I pulled on a robe to cover the thin spaghetti strap tank top and capri sweats I was wearing and headed downstairs.

The living room was a stark contrast to how it had been in my dream. The area before me now was chilly and abandoned. The furniture looked dreary and forlorn in the bluish-silvery light coming in from outside, the fireplace dark and all but forgotten. Walking over to it, I ran my hand wistfully across the mantle and smiled sadly when my fingers brushed against the remote to the fireplace.

Gas. I had a gas fireplace. Not a wood one. That should have been the first clue that it had been nothing more than a dream.

Erik's lips flashed before my eyes and a burning ache shot through my chest, sending a sliver of longing that wound its way down from there and imbedded itself into my gut. The presence of it was so sudden and unexpected that it quite literally took my breath away. I wasn't sure what bothered me more; that I'd had a dream like that about Erik in the first place, or that it had left me wanting.

"Oh, Erik…." I whispered.

"Yes, Christine?"

Oh. Fuck.

"Erik!" I yelped. Spinning around, I spied him sitting in the armchair that faced the fireplace, one leg casually crossed over the other. "H-how long have you been here?"

Once again, my heart was racing. But this time it was out of fear and embarrassment, rather than the lingering effects of misplaced sexual desire.

Had he heard me?

Of course he'd heard me! He'd answered me, hadn't he? The real question was had he picked up on the longing in my voice as his name accidentally slipped past my lips? And if so, how in the hell was I going to explain it?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

"Long before you came downstairs," he replied. "Did you not see me when you walked in?"

My cheeks flamed red, but thankfully it was too dark for him to notice. How was I supposed to respond to that question? If I said no, then why would I have said his name. And if I said yes, then there was no way to explain why I reacted the way I did. Shit. I'd already revealed too much and I hadn't even uttered a goddamn word to him yet.

Erik uncrossed his legs and slowly stood up. His black cloak unfurled around him in one undulating wave, flaring out slightly at the bottom as he walked toward me. His eyes, which always seemed to glow no matter what time of the day it was, were full of questions, painting his face with a look of concern that his mask couldn't quite hide.

"What's wrong? Did something happen while you were out?"

"No." I huffed, exhaling sharply out my nose. "I had a…." Well, I couldn't exactly call it a nightmare, now could I? "I had a dream, and it's left me a bit…unsettled."

Great. Now I was rambling. Pull yourself together, Christine!

"Ah. I see." He extended his hand and pointed towards the couch. "Please. Sit down."

I stared at him, at his hand, the sight of that gesture so achingly familiar that for a moment I was thrown back into that other reality, the one where he and I….

I cleared my throat, trying to rid it of the lump that had suddenly formed, and did as I was told. I was so completely wrapped up in my own thoughts that I barely registered Erik telling me that he would return shortly.

What was wrong with me, I wondered as I leaned back on the couch cushions and covered my face with my hands. I'd had weird dreams before. I mean, who hadn't? So why couldn't I seem to shake this one off?

There had to be a reasonable explanation for it. Maybe my subconscious had taken my last conversation with Erik and confused it with my repressed feelings for Jake, warping the two of them together into some unrecognizable combination of forbidden thoughts and desires.

Yeah, that had to be it.

I couldn't be falling for the Opera Ghost.

At that moment, Erik returned carrying one of my ceramic coffee mugs in his hands, and the way my heart flung itself against my rib cage at the sight of him gave me all the answer I needed.

Oh, god. I was falling for the Opera Ghost.

"Here," he said, handing me the mug. "Drink this."

I glanced at the cup hesitantly and then peered up at him. "What is it?"

"Chamomile tea."

"I have tea?"

Jesus, how long had I been zoning out?

Erik chuckled. "Yes, my dear. Were you not paying attention to the items you were pulling out of your cabinets when you emptied them? I found this and the kettle on the kitchen table."

"Apparently not," I quipped.

I remembered seeing the tea kettle at one point. It had been part of a larger group of my mom's pots and pans and other odd kitchen gadgets that I'd thrown in the back of a cupboard that had been designated for shit I never used but didn't have the heart to throw away. But I honestly couldn't remember ever buying the tea to brew in it.

I gingerly took the cup from his hands and examined its contents.

"I wasn't sure how you take it, so I left it plain."

"No, this is wonderful. Thank you," I whispered.

Taking an experimental sip, I let the scalding hot liquid slide down my throat. I wasn't normally a tea person. Usually I preferred coffee and even then, I liked it with a fair amount of cream and sugar. But how often had a ghost made tea? Or done anything else to interact with the living the way my ghost seemed to be able to do. Probably never. And so, I drank it black without complaint, enjoying the way it warmed my insides. Or were Erik's presence and the fact that he had just called me 'my dear' responsible for that?

Erik swept his cloak to the side and sat down in the chair next to me. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and brought his hands together. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"Huh?" I blinked. "Talk about what?"

"Your dream."

Oh yeah. That would make for a great conversation.

It was nothing. We just almost made out, that's all. Except I woke up before we did and now I'm all sorts of confused because I think deep down I really wanted it to happen.

"Uhh, no," I said instead. "If it's alright with you, I'd just like to sit here for a moment."

"Of course." He got up and went over to the fireplace. "How does one turn this on?"

"The remote. On the mantle."

Good hell. Could my voice get any squeakier?

Erik nodded and retrieved the remote, and seconds later the fireplace roared to life, casting its rich, warm glow over his black-clad form.

I licked my lips and forced myself to take another big swig of my tea. He had no idea what that simple act was doing to me on the inside. He had no way of knowing that the light from the hearth was mimicking the fire and the candlelight from my dream and stirring up all sorts of complicated feelings.

"I'm still getting used to the fact that you can do all this," I said after a few moments had passed, once I was sure that my face and my voice wouldn't betray me. "I never thought you'd be able to hold things or interact with the world the way you have been lately."

"In truth, neither did I. But being able to touch—to feel—again…," he said passionately, "it's like I've been given a gift. I don't know why or how long it was last, but—"

Erik suddenly came forward and once again sat in the chair next to me. There was a look in his eyes that I hadn't seen before. Was it…fear? Hesitation?

"Christine, I have a rather impertinent question to ask of you."

I gulped.

When you touched me, did you feel it, too?

I tightened my grip around my mug. "Yes, Erik?"

"Might I trouble you for something to read? Time moves so dreadfully slow while you are not around, and now that I am more or less corporeal, well, I wish to have something to occupy my mind."

"Oh!" I nearly laughed at the simplicity of his request. He looked like a kid who was dreading asking his parents for something because he was afraid of being told no. "Erik! It never even occurred to me that you'd be bored! I'm so used to you disappearing for hours or days at a time that…. I didn't think. I'm sorry. Unfortunately, I don't have much in the way of actual books. Unless you want to read my mom's collection of old smutty romance novels, and I don't think you'd be into those. Everything else is on my e-reader."

He angled his head. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

Setting my mug on the coffee table in front of me, I leaned over and fished my e-reader out of my purse.

"This," I said, holding it up in front of me. "Most of my books are on here."

He glanced from the e-reader in my hand back to me, clearly not comprehending what I was trying to tell him.

"May I?" he asked, holding out his hand.

I shrugged. "Sure."

I switched it on and handed it to him. While we waited for it to boot up, I stood and sidled up next to him, hovering just over his shoulder. A few seconds later, the words appeared on the screen.

"Remarkable," he muttered, tilting it back and forth wonderingly as he examined it.

"See," I explained, pointing to the screen. "The pages show up here, just like a real book. Except that you touch the right or left side of the screen, depending on which direction you want to turn the pa—"

I realized the enormity of my mistake at the exact same moment Erik's eyes locked onto the electronic print.

"What is this?"

"Nothing!" I hastily replied as I lunged forward and tried to yank the e-reader from his hand.

He artfully dodged my attempt to grab it and jumped to his feet, instantly creating distance between me and the offending object.

"Erik, please. Give it back."

"What is this?" he repeated again, and this time there was an unmistakable sharpness to his voice.

I sighed, defeated. "Remember the night we first met face to face and you demanded to know how I knew about you and Christine and I told you it was from a book?"

He nodded stiffly.

"Well, that's the book. There. I told you. Now give back."

"No."

"Dammit, Erik!" Why didn't I check what I had been reading before I gave it to him? Of course I'd still had the book open! And of course it had to be right at the part where Christine had kissed him and made a promise to him to bring his ring back. "You don't want to read that."

"Yes, I do—"

"Trust me, you—"

"Christine." His tone was low and calm but brokered absolutely no room for argument.

I looked away.

He came forward until he was standing directly in front of me. "I want to read it. I cannot simply pretend it doesn't exist. Its very presence is distracting and will consume my every thought otherwise. If you were in my position, wouldn't you want to know?"

I swung my gaze back to him. His eyes were pleading, silently imploring me to relent.

"Some of the stuff that's in there isn't flattering." You're the bad guy. I don't want to see you get hurt.

Erik's expression softened. "It's no secret that I've done some truly despicable things in my lifetime. But don't you see; this is my chance to know how she felt, what she thought, to understand what I…put her through."

It was the closest I'd ever seen him come to begging. Months ago, we'd vowed to tackle the mystery of why he was still here, even if meant talking about topics that took both of us out of our respective comfort zones. And now, here he was, finally ready to take that next step, and I was the one holding him back.

I sucked in a breath and whispered, "Okay."

Holding out my hand, I gestured for him to give me the e-reader. He readily complied and watched closely as I navigated back to the beginning of the book.

"Thank you," he said earnestly when I handed it back to him.

Don't thank me just yet.

But I merely nodded in acknowledgement and headed towards the stairs. Pausing at the base of the staircase, I put my hand on the balustrade and glanced back into the living room. "Good night, Erik."

He was already too immersed in the story to answer me.

This wasn't going to end well, I thought to myself as I climbed the stairs and went back into my bedroom. But the damage had already been done. There was no going back now. All I could do now was be there to help him pick up the pieces when the time came.

A/N: I've been using the quarantine as an excuse to re-watch the Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel series, and they may or may not be responsible for this angsty chapter. More on the way soon! Tell me what you think! ~ J