Chapter Twelve

His departure had been short-lived. Like a man deprived of water, he had to satiate his thirst. Erik didn’t want to drink from this pool even though he was led right to it. An undertow pulled him toward the world he understood, and for once he couldn’t swim. The monster of jealousy perched on one shoulder poked unrelentingly at the guilt that stood opposite. He didn’t want to be jealous of Raoul with a child of his own on the way, but the power of such emotion was overbearing.

He found Christine, as suspected, still sitting pensively in her dressing room. A wise man would have fled Lyon by now. He resisted the urge to drown in Christine’s allure and fought the blame that made him want to plunge himself off the Opera Nationale’s roof.

She was a Siren.

One by one he laid his fingers upon her shoulder. Christine jumped.

“Somehow I never tire of that reaction,” he said.

“How did you get back in here?” She looked in wonderment at the door. “I locked that again! And Loup…”

Erik lowered his hood and made no effort to conceal his smugness. “Do you think a Phantom is only a Phantom when at the Garnier? The comte’s marksman is far too easy to entertain with a throw of the voice. And that dog nipping his heel does enjoy rotting meat. Honestly, do you think marksmen and hounds could track me so easily? You should educate your husband on all that I am capable.”

“I thought you left Lyon.”

“I will when I desire. While I am here, I might as well assist you—briefly.” As soon as her eyes pulled wide, he added his restriction. “On the condition, you end this manhunt.”

“I told you, no one would believe my story. I don’t think you realize how determined they are to find you. The past is the way a man is judged. Murder is murder, Erik.”

“Murder is a necessary evil often forced upon a man,” he snapped. “And you cannot speak for what people will or will not believe. You believed in angels. Forgive me, but my halo is being polished.” He flexed his hands. They tingled with the anticipation of conducting her voice once more. “F major and do my standard warm-ups. Then we begin with Lord of our Being. Seeing as you are singing Händel for this pathetic excuse of a concert series, perhaps you can bring him the respect he deserves.”

Erik almost completely forgot Christine sang, as the lesson wore on, immersing himself in the music that had been separated from his soul for entirely too long. Eyes closed, he encouraged her voice. His extraordinarily thin hand undulated through the air like an elegant bird coursing his way across the heavens. Erik pulled the final note from her lips. It lingered until he closed his fist and ended her song. He held that note in his hand, like a man holding a blown kiss. He opened his eyes and breathed deeply.

“That was,” he admired the beam on Christine’s face, “mediocre.” Taking a seat on the divan, he glowered. “I expected more out of you.”

Christine studied the ceiling. “I’ve been keeping up with my music, I assure you. I just have a lot of other things which to attend.”

“Nothing should come between you and music. I thought I made that perfectly clear through the years.”

“Time changes things,” she snapped.

Impressive, she’d found a backbone. Finding that he stared, Erik looked beyond her.

“Being back on stage is harder than I thought,” she admitted. “I’m emotional over visiting the life I gave up. I’m not a Prima Donna anymore.”

“Those are foolish words.” He stepped behind her. “Stand tall.” His arms carved the air around her waist as if he were molding the idea of her against him. She obeyed without hesitation. “Keep your shoulders perfectly straight and slightly back; elbows bent so your hands can rest on the junction between your thigh and hip. If you do all of this, you should feel your chest cavity expand. It will relieve the pressure the baby has placed on your diaphragm.”

The instant he came back into her view she fidgeted. Her delicate white hands, clasped before her like a dutiful student, were the pictures of perfection—ideal for a woman of her beauty. Erik indicated for her to sit. She stroked her dress as she lowered herself down. He found himself regarding the elegant ruby ring on her left hand. It made the scratched gold band he wore around his pinky suddenly weigh more than a millstone.

“Tell me, does he treat you well?” Erik shoved aside the memory of him yanking the band off Anna’s finger.

“He gives me the world and more.”

“More than I could have?”

Ridges of shock cracked her porcelain skin.

“What sort of question is that?” she gasped. “Nevermind, don’t answer.”

Her wedding ring glinted in the lamplight as she tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. Christine shook her head and dropped her hand back to her lap. She seemed exasperated.

“What don’t I understand about you, Erik? Why do I want to resist you, but obey your every command over me? I can’t stop thinking about you. I don’t know why. You insisted when you left the Garnier that I forget you, and yet you dare ask such questions of me?”

Erik raised a brow she couldn’t see as her hands briefly covered her face. She slowly dragged them down her cheeks.

“Tell me I’m not alone in such infidelity. I betray Raoul over and over in my mind because of you. You are—”

“Dangerous?” The room split with that single word. “I inspire you with horror, yet you cannot hate?” He lifted his hands in front of her face and caressed the air on either side of her cheeks. Though he wanted to, he dared not touch her. “I am that mysterious man in the palace underground? A man with a kind of love that gives you a thrill when you think of it?” He leaned away from her and shook his head sadly. “I am poor Erik; The same poor Erik who has been subject to your lies. The lies your own words described as hideous as the monster that inspired them. The Erik who is subject to the lies you told a year ago that now chain him to a manhunt.”

Christine swallowed enough that Erik heard her.

“You’re not the same, and neither am I,” she remarked. “There’s a force luring us together. Can’t you see that, Erik? You’ve no idea what it is like to have you suddenly reappear in my life. You flit in and out of it whenever you see fit.”

“You resurfaced in mine,” Erik said expressionlessly. “You did in Paris. You do so here.”

“So be it, but when I do, I speak the truth. You, however, claim to love Anna and yet where is she? I meant what I told you at the Garnier a year ago, Erik. I’ve tried desperately over this past year to give my heart completely to my husband. But I can’t. Not when my soul belongs to another. I should spend my life in prayer for such feelings toward the man who killed my dear brother-in-law.”

“Do not accuse me of crimes against Comte Philippe. I did not kill him. I gave you a choice years ago, Christine. And that choice is now dead, as I am.” He stared at the surface of the dressing table. The reflection of his mask blended perfectly with the black polish. He was truly faceless now.

“Then why are you here? Because you take pity on my voice, or you’re looking for something you lost? If you hadn’t noticed, I’m not Anna.” Erik’s head snapped up. Christine shrugged, her expression smug. “You obviously fell out of love with her somewhere along the way. You criticized me for loving Raoul, but perhaps you realize the complexity of true love. How easy it is to make mistakes and misguided choices when pushed into them.”

Was it fear, desire, or dread in her voice?

The way she looked at him didn’t hold a hint of rejection like it had in the past. Without warning, he called her name. It brought her toward him with slavish obedience. How long had it been since he had such control? The unexpected power made him swing around to face the mirror. Back to her, he watched their joined reflections.

“You call my name and then remain silent?” she questioned boldly.

Erik turned to look over his shoulder at her, before facing the mirror again. What was this new confidence in her stance?

“I could never express in words what it’s like to hear you call me, Erik. The Angel of Music chooses me, yet I’m unworthy of having my name pass his lips. To this day I feel rewarded when it does. Tell me I’m alone in feeling an unearthly connection between us.”

Erik reprimanded her into the clenched fist he lifted to his lips. “You know nothing of being alone.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Braving the agony mirrors signified he stared intensely at their reflections, recalling all she had said to him in his labyrinth after his Madrigal and recalling all Anna had said to him in the tunnels. Like sand in a fist, he was slipping through tiny cracks, unable to contain his confusion over Anna and caving to the look of empathy in Christine’s eyes.

Erik inched toward the door, wrestling with his mind and trying to decipher where his true emotions lay.

“Erik, don’t leave.”

The simple request threatened to consume him. Nothing outdid the unique bond of maestro and student. And no matter how he tried through the years the chain connecting them remained linked. So many nights since Philippe’s death he heard her whisper his name in his loneliest moments. A sarcastic laugh struggled to burst from him, but he fought it down.

See Philippe? Christine did return to love me. Late, but to love me.

Christine stepped closer and cocked her head to look into his downtrodden gaze. “Erik?”

The sweet sound of his name was irresistible. Erik fell into her lips before the warning in his mind had a chance to surface. He looped the golden strands of her hair around his fingers then plunged his hand deep into her tresses. Holding her close against their kiss, he savored her delicately sweet taste. Any control he had disappeared fueled by the desire for her that never really left his heart.

The noise in his mind rose to a savage rhythm. On the tip of his madness was Anna’s name. Erik pushed it aside as Christine’s hands slid underneath his cloak to find his back. He crushed his lips solidly against hers in reply, his hand entwined in her hair pulling her head backward so he could tower above her.

Erik stiffened when she traced the bony mountains of his spine through his shirt. She explored him hesitantly, a signal that flared the warning in his mind. He was used to being touched without apprehension.

The noise in his mind threatened to split his skull. Erik ignored it. He trailed his lips down the delicate arch of her neck. He found her pulse and tickled it with his tongue. Her breath came rapidly already. One arm supported her against his chest while his other slid freely over her throat, to the nape of her collarbone, down to hover above her bodice. A sigh escaped her lips.

The warmth of a woman and the feeling of soft skin spurred him forward. He kissed her deeply, slipping his fingers down the cool beading on her gown. He molded her tightly against him as he left her lips to explore her flushed cheeks. Christine turned her face away from his mask and softly panted. Her eyes stayed tightly shut while her fingers dug against his spine. She arched her belly against him.

A throaty moan carved its way through his throat. That warning in his mind got louder.

He found her lips again. How easy it would be to have her.

That warning pulsed in tandem with want for her.

Christine’s breath swirled hotly against his mask. His body beat with something besides the natural need in his loin. The music he usually heard in his mind at the cusp of such congress was off, the rhythm and tempo wrong.

How many times had he dreamt of this moment? How many lonely nights had he spent with her on his mind and never in his arms? How many times had he thought to be with her like this?

Erik had experienced the joys of love; he understood how to please; yet this woman didn’t know how he conducted; she didn’t move against his lips when he did. This woman desired his embrace but didn’t understand the music in his mind.

Roving fingers moved beyond her ribcage… lower…

Music and body were one with him. The two were as inseparable as man and madman. The noise rose higher and higher in his mind and mingled with that unrelenting warning.

His sensitive fingertips explored the sensual curves of a woman with child.

There were choices to be made. He heard the sound of his name float from Christine’s lips; he listened to the caution in his mind, and chose between the two.