Page 59 of Angel's Kiss
“I’ve never asked about this good genius of hers,” Adèle replied with a sigh. “There’s never been any point. We might as well be asking after a ghost.”
Raoul did not like the sound of that.
––––––––
The horses whinniedas Christine rushed through the stables towards Erik’s secret door. Her hands shook as she triggered the lock, the feel of Raoul’s kiss still burning on her lips, like the sting of a blow. The door finally worked, and she thanked heaven that there was a lantern waiting on the rusted hook rather than a ghost in the shadows.
Raoul had kissed her. He’d held her and been honest and open and good and kind he had kissed her. And for a brief, hysterical moment Christine had wanted it. Then her mind had turned to Erik and how different his lips were from Raoul’s and her guilt had driven her from the arms of the boy she had wanted to marry, so long ago. Her guilt was not solely for the kiss, but for the thought that Raoul would never seduce her or confuse her. He was so simple.
Christine paused in the dark corridor. She’d never found her way into the cellars alone, but honestly, she was ready to stay here for the foreseeable future. It was all easier that way. She wasn’t ready to see Erik. Not after Raoul’s kiss. Or Erik’s kiss and command in the morning. Or the night before.
“Just keep going down, it can’t be that hard,” she told herself, forcing her feet to move. Almost immediately she came to a junction she did not recognize. Which way did Erik usually go? Left? Yes, she was almost sure it was left. Her surety evaporated as she continued, her footsteps echoing ominously in the dark. Everything and nothing looked familiar since each cold wall and piece of stone looked exactly alike in the meager light of the lantern.
“Where are you?” she asked the shadows, telling herself she was shivering from the cold and not trembling in fear. Erik hadn’t even told her where to go, he’d simplycommandedher to return, and she’d done it like an idiot! And goddamnit it washis fault, even if she was running away from Raoul as much as running to Erik and she was so fed up with these men spinning her head about she wanted to scream!
Christine stopped still in her tracks, listening to the darkness. Was that an echo? No, it came again: footsteps from ahead of her in the black. Erik never made any noise.
She turned and ran, trying to hide the light of her lantern from whoever had dared to enter Erik’s realm. The very fact that someone was there – alone, at night – was enough to tell her they were dangerous. What if it was the rat catcher? If she encountered him, that was yet another reason to wring Erik’s neck when she found him.
“Where are you, damnit?” Christine hissed as she reached the bottom of another flight of stairs, but the only answer was the echo of her labored breath. She waited, every muscle tense as she listened for another sound. The silence stretched out around her. Maybe she was safe. She lifted the lantern slowly.
“No.”
Christine tried to scream as a gloved hand covered her mouth. An arm locked around her, pulling her back and forcing her to drop the lantern, which sputtered into darkness. She struggled against her captor, completely blind and terrified.
“Hush! They’re still coming.”
Christine froze, recognizing the urgent whisper and the strong arms around her. Slowly, Erik moved his hand from her mouth as the sound of steps came again from the distance. Christine could make out a distant flicker of light coming down the stairs. Before she could panic, Erik pulled her gradually away from the light, holding onto her so tightly he was nearly lifting her from the ground. She realized quickly why he was doing it – it made her steps almost as quiet as his.
A jolt, then they stopped. They must have come to a wall. Erik held her tight, and she remembered him pressed against her last night, something stirring between them, and the sound of a secret song in his throat. It made her legs unsteady, but the sound of another step in the dark filled her with new fear.
“Don’t let go of me,” Erik ordered in her ear. Christine nodded. “Now.”
They were off like a shot, careening through the pitch darkness, following the path Erik knew by heart. Her guide caught Christine roughly as they came to an abrupt stop, pulling her back as she splashed into freezing water. At least they had found the lake. Christine had no time to swear or complain, as Erik rushed her along the edge. He opened the hidden door with lightning speed and did not let her go until they were safely locked behind it. Christine staggered into the parlor and held on to the piano, panting.
“Who was that?” she asked as she caught her breath.
“I couldn’t make him out,” Erik answered, lingering by the door and listening. “But he was certainly looking for something.”
“It wasn’t your Persian friend?”
“He’s not stupid enough to wander about alone down here,” Erik said and turned to catch the glare Christine leveled at him. “Without an invitation,” he amended sheepishly, hiding his eyes. It did not make Christine any less furious. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“I need to change. I’m all wet,” Christine snapped and stalked to her room, anger rising along with her shame at the memory of Raoul’s impertinent kiss. Anger was easier. She kept it up as she stripped off her sodden dress. She was angry at both men for confusing her with their kisses, but only one was there and he had been willing to hold her close to keep her from harm but not to satisfy needs in her he had fostered.
Christine violently tied the red velvet robe around her waist, waiting for the sound of music to come from the parlor. Certainly, that’s what Erik would use to entice her out or calm her down. It was his favorite spell, just like Raoul said. It always had been. Erik had used their secret song last night so briefly and, in an blink, she had been willing to let him doanything. Now, in the silence, she realized how terrible that was.
She strode from her room before he could start playing and found him staring into the fire instead. He had discarded his jacket, something no gentleman would ever do in the company of a proper lady. And yet he still wore the mask, the one thing Christine wished he would discard. It was so much easier to resist him and pity him when she could see that awful face.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to escort you,” Erik said warily when he looked up. “Why did you come back early?”
“I wasn’t hungry,” she lied. There was no reason to tell Erik she had seen his rival again or what Raoul had done. None at all. Erik looked over her. What she could see of his expression was serious and concerned.
“We need to talk,” he intoned like she was an errant child who had wandered too far from home. “I listened to a good deal of rehearsal.”
Her stomach fell. She had forgottenthathumiliation in all the chaos. “Oh.”
“What was wrong? I’ve never heard you sing so inconsistently. You were distracted and unsure. Why?”
