Page 97 of Angel's Kiss
“I had never thought about it,” Erik said softly, drawing Christine to him. Past the brim of his hat and the white mask, his golden eyes were wide and amazed. “It would be a long journey. Even with...company.”
“That’s why we practice,” Christine replied hopefully. “More outings like this, to start.”
“There is the masquerade in a few days.” If Christine had not known him better, she would have sworn he sounded and looked shy. She found herself smiling.
“Are you asking me to accompany you,Monsieur Le Fantôme?”
Erik laughed – a beautiful, bubbling sound from deep in his throat – then stepped back and made a graceful bow, not letting go of her hand.
“Would you do me the honor of attending the masquerade with me, Mademoiselle Daaé?”
“On one condition,” she parried back, heart fluttering as Erik rose and drew her to him.
“Yes?”
“You must promise to dance with me.”
Erik’s eyes widened behind the mask. “Dance?”
“Surely you have heard of dancing? It’s all the rage nowadays. Or are such displays beneath the dignity of the infamous Opera Ghost?”
“I don’t dance,” Erik whispered, both firm and seductive in his tone, close enough now that he could kiss her.
“Yes, you do,” Christine smiled, pressing herself close against him. “No one could make love the way you do and not be able to dance. No one could make such beautiful music and not move to it.”
“How can I argue with such flattery?” Erik murmured and Christine grinned. “I promise to dance with you, but you must promise to teach me.” He leaned in to kiss her, but Christine sprang away.
“Done. Let us begin,” she said as she extended her hand before her. Erik took it, laughing softly as she guided his other hand to her waist and smiled up at him.
“Not to be critical of my teacher, but don’t we need music?”
Christine stood on her toes, pressing her cheek against the mask, her heart leaping to feel her lover solid and warm against her. “When you are with me, there is always music,” she whispered in his ear. “Now, dance with me, my angel.”
Erik smiled wistfully at her as she set her hand on his shoulder. Christine began to sing; an Irish tune Erik had taught her in recent days that sang of summer sun, and fields of flowers. The English words were still new to her tongue, but she understood the dream behind them. “Will yee go, lassie go?”
“And we’ll all go together,” Erik joined her, surprisingly tentative as she began to move, but he quickly caught the rhythm of the dance. Suddenly they had gone from moving awkwardly to dancing. They swirled in smooth circles as they sang together, graceful and trusting.
Christine was glad she was singing, that she could speak to him with music, instead of useless words. There was no need to think or worry, right now, as they spun and she stared up into his eyes. All that mattered was that, somehow, looking at him made her happy. Not just content. Truly happy. The emptiness that had nearly swallowed her whole days before was so completely gone it was hard to believe she had ever felt it. Instead, she was full to overflowing with something she could find no words for, only a song. A song that was entirely for him, as it always would be.
“I will build my love a bower, on yon high mountain green, and my love will be the fairest the summer sun has ever seen...”
She was dimly aware that they had stopped moving. Now Erik was simply holding her close in the shining night, as their voices grew quieter, then faded to silence. She held her breath, praying he would kiss her as she tilted her face to his. He would kiss her, and she could forget the words that were fighting their way past every defense she could mount. He was so close, and his eyes were so beautiful. If she was to kiss him or to speak the thought coalescing in her mind, she wanted it to be Erik before her in the moonlight, not a mask.
Carefully she lifted the mask from his face, lost in his eyes and the truth thundering in her heart.
“Erik, I—”
“Get away from her! Monster!” The cry shattered the night like a gunshot, and every dream with it. Christine would know Raoul’s voice anywhere, but it terrified her more than anything to hear it now.
“No,” Christine gasped, as she spun to see the face of the boy she had once loved, awash with horror in the moonlight as he stumbled from the woods. Erik’s hand locked on her wrist, yanking her away.
“Run,” Erik growled, even as Raoul stumbled towards them.
Christine followed without thinking and rushed headlong from the patch of moonlight into the trees, panic filling her as Erik dragged her to their carriage at breakneck speed. He had replaced his mask at least.
“Christine! Wait!” she heard Raoul yell over the sounds of them crashing through branches and shrubs bare of leaves, the snow crunching under their feet. He was going to catch up and he was going to demand to know what she had done! What had he seen? How had she been so stupid! This would destroy everything!
“Let her go, you fiend!” Raoul yelled, his voice closer now and Erik, to her horror, obeyed. His hand was suddenly gone from her wrist. Christine stumbled as she turned to see Raoul a distance behind her, his face desolate and panicked. But Erik was nowhere to be seen. “Christine! Who was that?” Raoul cried as Christine tripped backwards, crashing to the cold ground. Raoul advanced, eyes wild. “Wasthatyour angel!?”
