Page 39 of Angel's Fall

“Let’s not wake then, either of us,” Christine murmured back. He followed her bonelessly as she guided him up towards the pillows and settled her head on his chest. “Just hold me forever.”

“As you wish.” Erik was so tired, all the things he had been afraid of were far away, and the woman he loved was right here, kissing a scar on his chest. He pulled her to him and kissed her mouth, amazed again at the bitter aftertaste still on her tongue. “Forever and a day.”

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The brothel where Philippehad brought them was surprisingly elegant, Raoul noted. The walls were papered in gilded patterns, the paintings of succulent nudes were competent, and the whole place was draped in red velvet. On further thought, it wasn’t so different from the Opera – the goods on display just had fewer clothes on. Raoul was watching as his brother examined a girl on a little pedestal, draped in black silk, with a connoisseur’s eye.

Philippe shook his head and said something to the madame, who gave a polite smile before escorting the whore away.

“That’s the third one you’ve sent back,” Antoine sighed from his place on a divan with two well-paid but bored-looking women draped over him, already at work.

“Some of us have standards,” Philippe grumbled in reply.

“That’s why I’m marrying your sister,” Antoine sneered, and Raoul shot up from his seat. “Oh for God’s sake, calm down. How did your brother end up the only one in the family with a sense of fun?”

“You’re right. I don’t even want to be here,” Raoul snapped back.

“Well, I’m sure you won’t be long when it’s time,” Antoine said with utter smugness over the head of the whore licking at his chest. “Philippe, you have instructed him on how it’s done, haven’t you?”

“Honestly, Antoine. You think I didn’t see to my little brother’s education long before this?” Philippe called back.

Raoul sat down, trying not to blush. Now that he looked more carefully, he was sure he had indeed been to this house of ill repute before, when he was halfway through his seventeenth year and still heartsick over Christine. Ithadbeen fast, but he had certainly improved in the years since.

“Ah, yes, that’s what I was looking for,” Philippe crowed as the madame escorted a new girl into the room. A girl with dark hair, hazel eyes, tanned skin, and soft curves. In the low light, if Raoul squinted, she could be Christine. That was what Philippe had been looking for. “This is my brother, young lady. Please fuck what little brains he has right out of his head.”

The whore smiled like a cat spying a mouse and approached Raoul with an extended hand.

“Unless you’d like us to get you a boy so you can pretend you’re at sea,” Antoine called just as Philippe took one of the girls from his lap and attacked her with kisses while she squealed.

“Fuck off,” Raoul shot back as he let himself be dragged away to a side room with Antoine’s laughter ringing in his ear. There was a large inviting couch full of pillows in the center of the room, and the whore guide Raoul there. She didn’t move like Christine, but from the back, she was close enough. She let her silk robe fall to the floor with a giggle and Raoul surveyed her exposed body.

“How do you like it, Monsieur?” the girl asked with a smirk. Christine would never look so eager or proud. She would never reach for him like this wanton thing and massage him through his pants. Raoul batted her hand away even as he stiffened.

“I want you to pretend like you’re a lady. A good, pure one,” Raoul ordered.

“You want me to act like yours is the first cock I’ve ever had? No one else has ever fucked me so good?” The whore smirked again as Raoul’s throat bobbed. He gave a quick nod in confirmation. “I’m sure that won’t be too hard for me. Now, are you? Hard for me, that is?”

“Stop talking. A lady would never say anything so obscene,” Raoul growled as he grabbed the whore and spun her. He didn’t want to see that feline smile any longer. “Get on you fucking knees and do your job.”

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Her place next to Erikin his bed was still warm when Christine returned to it from the washroom. The clock in the corner said it was close to four in the morning and she very much wanted to sleep again. Even if more dreams came. There was part of her that wanted nothing more than to see her father’s face again, even in sleep, but there was the other part that was so afraid of seeing him or the dozen other horrors of late that haunted her dreams. Buquet’s body falling into the void on its rope and becoming Raoul’s or Erik’s.

“So I’m not the only one who can think too loudly.”

Christine turned from the edge of the bed to see Erik looking at her with a soft expression, his hair a messy halo. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered as he pulled her into his arms.

“Don’t ever be sorry for that,” Erik murmured back, nuzzling into her hair. “Will you tell me what’s wrong, or must I guess?”

“I lied to you, earlier today – yesterday – whenever it was.” Erik’s whole body went tense in panic, and Christine shifted to meet his eyes. “About not being disappointed that I wasn’t—” She swallowed. It was foolish to not even say the word, but even that felt like bad luck.

“You want a child?” Erik asked with a new sort of terror in his voice that Christine could not help but laugh at.

“No. I mean, I don’t know.” She squeezed his shoulder to comfort him. “It’s just that... I have to confess something.”

“I don’t understand.” Erik looked so strangely innocent and confused, ruined face and all, there in the shelter of her arms.

“When I was eighteen and Papa was getting very sick, I got sick too,” Christine began, thinking back to the fear in those months. “For a few days, I was afraid I’d never sing again, but I pulled through. Mostly.”

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