Page 53 of Angel's Fall

“Get out of here, boy. I told you before, you don’t deserve her,” her father growled in the voice that made her so afraid. Would he yell at her next, then go off to mourn in his room before begging her forgiveness? She hated when he did that, but it hadn’t happened for so long...

“She doesn’t deserve me, but I will take her anyway,” Raoul declared, grabbing her and ripping at her dress. Christine screamed. Where was her angel? Why had he sent her out on stage alone again?

She didn’t want this. She had to wake up.

She sat up in bed with a gasp and Erik stirred beside her. “Christine, what’s wrong?”

“I—” she panted, the dream still lingering around her like fog.

“Another nightmare?” he asked as he took her in his arms. “You’ve had them every night.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She threw her head against his chest as she stifled a sob, her night dress twisting around her.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Erik whispered. “I just wish you would tell me what’s been tormenting you.”

“I see my father,” she breathed. “And he’s so angry and he wants so much from me that I can’t do, and then...” She shook her head, tears staining Erik’s bare shoulder.

“Shhh, it’s just dreams,” her lover cooed, and Christine surged up to kiss him. Erik’s response was hesitant, scared even, like when she had first given him her lips. Why was he afraid of her now? Why hadn’t he made love to her tonight and sung her to sleep instead? Why wouldn’t he free her from fear with lust when she needed it?

“I need you,” she sighed against his mouth, sweeping her hands over his rough skin.

“Christine...” The way he said her name was still a drug, even if it sounded like he wanted to argue that she couldn’t fuck her way out of her problems. That didn’t mean she couldn’t escape for a little while with him.

She pushed Erik back on the bed, straddling him as she yanked off her gown. She ground herself against his manhood, feeling it respond as she watched his head fall back. “Please,” she entreated before kissing again, her hand dipping between them to free the hard organ of his lust.

“Yes,” Erik exhaled, gripping her hips. She guided him into her slickness, groaning at the familiar feeling of being stretched and filled. How was it so good when everything around them was darkness? Why did she feel like she was the light reflected in his eyes as she began to move with him inside her? Did any answer matter but this?

“I love you,” she moaned as she rode him, her hips meeting his rhythm as his thumb pressed on that magic place above her entrance. Each touch was electric and wiped away all her nightmares and fear. “Don’t let go of me. Please don’t let go.”

“Never,” Erik swore.

Christine threw her head back, her breasts rising and falling in a frantic tempo as she chased her little death in the darkness.

––––––––

“Why are we waiting, for fuck’s sake?” Antoine demanded as he threw the nub of another cigarette onto the ground.

“Maybe she’ll come home, or we’ll see a light,” Raoul argued, shivering. He couldn’t tell Antoine the real reason – that he was terrified of what sort of truth they might uncover if they confronted Valerius or Christine.

“Come on, you pansy, no more dallying.” Antoine strode across the street to the building’s blue door. Raoul rushed over, impressed to see Antoine using a key. “Adèle forgot to ask for it back.”

Antoine gave Raoul a chilling wink and rushed through the door, practically bounding up the steps. He knocked loudly before he began to fumble with the key, and Raoul began to wonder how much Antoine had drunk at the party.

“Adèle! Darling!” Antoine called as he pushed his way into the flat. The woman in question was entering the parlor, obviously having just been woken up. She looked indecent in her nightdress and robe, and Raoul tried not to blush.

“Antoine? What the hell are you doing here? What’s going on!” Adèle demanded as Antoine advanced on her. “Why is this boy with you?”

“Where is Christine? I need to see her immediately,” Raoul asked back. The panic in Adèle’s face made him sick. “Where is she?”

“She’s—” Adèle began, but Raoul could not wait. He ran to Christine’s door and opened it, only to see an empty room and a neatly made bed. “She didn’t come home tonight. She must be staying at the Opera. She does that often.”

“At the Opera?” Antoine scoffed. “How clever of you to not lie completely.”

“I’m not—” Antoine’s slap cut off Adèle’s words, and the woman crumpled to the floor, holding her cheek. Raoul sprang forward, but Antoine caught him by the throat, holding him back in an iron grip.

“My future brother-in-law asked you a question,” Antoine said calmly. “Please answer. We know Christine came here tonight and left. Where did she go?”

“She didn’t say.” Adèle stared up at Antoine with pure hate in her eyes. Antoine laughed as he let go of Raoul and advanced on the prone woman. He grabbed her by the hair and hauled her up as she whimpered.

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