The Quest - *Phantom of the Opera* (a fantasy romance)

Chapter XIII

Just One Kiss

XIII

Erik woke, in the haze of a dream. Soft warmth brought him to stunned awareness, and he opened his eyes. He inhaled a startled breath, amazed to see and feel Christine nestled against him. Beneath his cape, she held his hand so that his arm embraced her, resting just below her bosom. Her form felt so slight, so fragile.

Had some unknown terror frightened her that she would seek comfort in his arms? A fierce wave of protection washed over him, followed by the first stirrings of desire...

His breathing grew strained, but he fought down the urges. So as not to waken her, he carefully slipped his hand from her small one. He must move away, must not invite the temptation that always lurked near. But his need to touch her, this once, could not resist the lure of her pure beauty, and he reached up to caress her thick, glossy curls. He fingered one lock, gently pulling until it straightened, and brought the strand of hair to his lips, delighting in its softness. His eyes fell shut in wonder.

Christine was the essence of splendor. Her face, her form, her voice. Her soul...

He failed to understand how she could love a disfigured creature like himself, though he always yearned for what he felt an impossibility. That his dreams had come to pass still bewildered him. Her perception of the previous morning also astounded him.

How could she know his intentions so well? How could she so aptly discern his reasoning?

Sincerity had darkened her eyes when she insisted she go with him, never to be parted again. Erik remembered how those same eyes flashed when she declared that she was no goddess and he no monster. He had noted her quiet frustration often these past weeks, opposing his conviction that he considered himself less than human. It wasn't that he chose to disbelieve her gentle words. Cruel men had stolen any such belief from him early in childhood, and he did not know how to find the estimation of his worth or even if it was possible. Upon their first face to face meeting, he created her into a goddess in his mind, an untouchable perfect being, resolving to maintain distance and not give his heart over to her completely, to protect it from being shattered in the likely event she should refuse him. But that too, worked against him. In his resolve to remain distant, he only suffered loss and wounded them both. Nor had she refused him.

In the past, each time she approached with love shining in her eyes, a distrustful part of his soul had been frightened by that love, and he retreated or retaliated for fear her actions were less than genuine, that they were only an illusion brought on by his desperation for her to love him – him. The man behind the mask, behind the monster. The idea that she actually could feel such love constantly warred with old memories of the abuse he endured from the multitude who'd shown him only hatred.

He had made her into a goddess in his mind. Yet this cherished woman lying against the full length of him was no dream, no illusion and certainly no myth. Holding her close, he could most definitely discern she was flesh and blood, had never once doubted that. She was very real, soon to be his living bride. And through her actions, by her words, she had more than proven her love and loyalty to him.

Christine ... My beautiful Angel of Music ... Come to me, Angel of Music ...

With the lightest of touches, Erik trailed his fingertips down her hair to her shoulder and along her sleeve. He should move away before he could no longer move away.

She stirred, and his fingers froze in their loving course. He had not realized until then that he'd sung into her mind, but she must have heard him. She turned in his arms, her gaze adoring. His breath caught as he stared into the brilliance of her velvet-dark eyes.