Page 49 of Angel's Kiss
“Oh dear God,” Christine whispered.
“She had sworn, my mother, she hadswornto never let a man do that to her again. Especially him. So she fought. I screamed too and beat against that door until it broke, and he looked up. It gave her time to get away. She didn’t run to the hall or the door. She knew he would catch her. She ran to the window instead.”
“Erik,” Christine gasped and threw her arms around him. It was instinct, truly, to want to hold a broken soul closer to her and pray that it could erase the pain of the past. He was so tall her head was right against his heart as she held him tight, and she could hear that heart pounding.
“I ran down to her. Maybe she had survived it. She looked like she was asleep,” Erik went on, his arms finally wrapping around Christine. “I had always been able to wake her up. To bring her back. So I sang to her. She had been my jailer and my tormentor, but she had also been my hope and my life. She was my world, and she taught me from birth that the world was cruel and unjust. I loved her and I didn’t know what I would do without her. But she didn’t wake up...”
“Erik, I’m so sorry,” Christine whispered, looking up at him and touching the mask.
“Hedid that. He killed her, as sure as shooting her. And so did I.” Erik’s eyes glistened with tears as he spoke. “I am cursed, Christine. She always said it, and she was right. It’s in my blood and it shows on my face. I will always be tainted by the man that forced her to birth a monster.”
“You are not a monster,” Christine said, adamant. “Monsters are not born. They’re made.”
“And I always will be the monster they made me,” Erik murmured, but Christine shook her head.
“I don’t believe that. I won’t.” He did not stop her, or tense, when she lifted the mask from his face, letting it fall to the floor beside them as she touched the scars a lifetime of pain and his own mother had left. It made her heart shatter to think of it.
“You don’t know it all,” Erik protested, tears flowing down his desiccated cheeks. There were no words in the world that could change his mind, Christine knew it. “You don’t know what I—”
Christine kissed him. Finally, she closed her eyes and kissed his withered lips because it was all she could do and all she had wanted for days. He didn’t respond at first, except to go rigid in shock, but she didn’t stop. He tried to struggle and cower, but she twined her fingers into his hair to keep him from escaping. She would not let him leave her tonight.
“I know you, Erik,” she whispered against his cheek and kissed him again. This time, he melted into it, his arms locking around her as secure as stone. It was like his music, kissing him; dizzying and dreamy. His mouth was inexpert, as was hers, she was sure, but it didn’t matter. She tasted his breath and their tears as she parted her lips and let him devour her. His arms held her, strong as the sea, and she was ready to drown.
8. Memory
Certainly, Erik haddied this time. No one would kiss him, let alone kiss him like this. And yet it was real. Christine’s lips were against his, sublime and perfect, and if he was indeed not dead, he was a trespasser into heaven. He wanted this forever, and yet he was greedy. He wanted more. He touched her, pulling her close and letting his hands slide over the satin of her dress as her lips explored the ruin of his face. He found the skin of her back, her shoulder. He ran his fingers through her silken hair. She sighed and parted her lips further, her tongue darting to lick his lips and he grew even bolder, kissing her perfect cheek and her jaw, his mouth trailing towards her neck.
She arched towards him with a soft cry, something between a gasp and a coo. He knew that sound, he had heard her make it in the secret depths of the night so many times. It was a song that ignited his blood, and gods above, the taste of her skin was sublime. He wanted to hold her tighter, to make her whimper and sigh forever. She pulled him close in turn, so incredibly close, and for one blissful second, desire rushed to his groin before pain screamed from his side.
“Ah, fuck!” he cried as he stumbled back, grasping at his wound and returning blessedly back to his senses.
“I’m sorry!” Christine yelped. “Please don’t faint!”
“I’m not going to faint!” Erik snapped, barely able to conjure the concentration to glare at Christine. Her face was full of concern, but all Erik could see was how debauched she looked; reddened lips, flushed cheeks, and mussed hair. A vision of temptation. “I’m fine,” Erik lied, still smarting.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing,” Christine muttered, looking bashful and affronted.
