Page 89 of Angel's Kiss
“I would not put you in that danger,” Shaya sighed. He had already ruined Darius’ life enough. “Erik was right. I have no allies. No one to help. You’re the only person I have left that cares if I live or die.”
“Some days more than others,” Darius muttered back.
“This all comes down to Christine Daaé, I know it,” Shaya groaned. “I have to find out what he’s done to her. She knows something but she can’t knoweverything. If he’s done to her what he did to him...” The memory of Ramin’s face – his dead face in the little house he had run to with Erik – flashed into Shaya’s mind and pain stabbed his heart.
“Do you honestly think any woman would willingly whore herself to that thing? Even for the career she has?”
Shaya shuddered, recalling the horrific sight of Erik unmasked at the edge of the lake. Shaya had barely been able to keep his eyes on the man and he had seen the abomination unmasked before. “No. There has to be some other explanation.”
“If Daaé is the key, perhaps the time has come to recruit help.”
“And where will I find such help?”
“You know, you always mock me for reading the society gossip in the papers,” Darius remarked with a smirk.
“What does that have to do with Erik?”
“It has to do with Mademoiselle Daaé and that young, brave Vicomte who continues to pursue her. His infatuation is the talk of the town. Well, some quarters of it.” Darius turned and somehow even his back was smug as he began preparing tea.
“You think he could be the key to saving her? And drawing Erik out?” Shaya muttered as he considered the strategy. Of course, the young man was still interested in Christine. And he had no idea the danger he put himself and all those he loved in by pursuing her.
“Erik and that woman are tangled up together. That boy could be the one to tear them apart if you use him correctly.”
“He just needs the right guidance,” Shaya whispered to himself with a smile. “And he could save us all.”
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Christine did not thinkshe could call herself happy. It was wrong to behappyafter what she had done and seen and learned afterRigoletto. But she was content at least, wrapped once more in her lover’s strong arms and dark sheets, looking up at the carved branches of his curious bed. She felt distant from the pain of the world above, music filled her mind and soul as Erik hummed an old Irish tune, and her desire was sated. It was close enough to happiness, for now, and perhaps even that was more than she deserved.
It had been three days since he had brought her below. Three days of her angel seeking to bring her whatever joy, distraction, or pleasure he could conjure to lift her spirits. Erik had brought tears to her eyes when he played for her, from Bach’s cello sonatas to Romani tunes on the flute and fiddle. He had composed for her too; and astounded her when he had asked for her help and critique of his work. They had played together, and it had been exquisite to share music with him in such a way.
He had read to her: poetry and books and plays from across the world and told her stories he knew by heart in exchange for the same from her. He probably knew every story she told or read to him from the old books she had carried with her since childhood, but it was still a pleasure to share them with him. They had played chess and laughed because Erik was terrible at it after years with no opponent. Erik had endeavored each day to make Christine smile and laugh, dispelling her melancholy as often as possible, as much as he had sought to do the same by bringing her pleasure whenever he could.
It made Christine feel like a madwoman to think of how only weeks ago she had feared his touch. Now she craved it in every way. Tonight he had laid her out on the bed while he stood, fucking into her with force that made her scream with each thrust. His cock finding places so deep within her as he held her by the hips that she feared she would crumble. But she hadn’t. She had come for him, as he always made sure she did. She had wailed his name and lost herself, only to return to reality and find that once again he had withdrawn and watched his seed spurt over her belly. She could still feel it now, the place where he had marked her again.
“You look pensive,” Erik said gently, bringing Christine back from the memory. “What are you thinking about?
Christine smirked rather than blush. “It’s entirely unladylike.”
“Now I must know.”
“I was thinking about how you never come while you’re inside me,” Christine said casually, looking up in time to look at Erik’s bare face. It was much easier – now that he had stopped wearing the mask around her almost entirely – to tell what he was feeling. Right now it was scandalized.
“I-I...” he began to stammer, and Christine was reminded of what a pleasure it was to fluster him.
“I did warn you.”
Erik gave her a gentle scowl. “I thought it would be clear. I don’t want to defile and ruin you like that.”
“As if it’s different for me to have your seed on my skin than inside me?” It was strange, the way he still treated her like some pristine, distant icon.
“I meant I wouldn’t want to condemn you to carry a child with my cursed blood,” Erik replied quietly.
“Oh. Yes. That,” she muttered, hiding her embarrassed face against his chest again. “That does make sense. I guess.” She wanted to say she didn’t think he was cursed, not the way he believed himself to be, but it was a useless argument.
“It would be a disaster,” Erik went on, and the idea of how a child would change her life – their lives – indeed did make her skin crawl with fear and anxiety so she nodded in agreement. “Your career would be ruined too.”
“My career,” she scoffed. “You know, the more I sing on that stage, the less enchanted I am by the idea of a greatcareer.”
