The Treasure *Phantom of the Opera* (sequel to The Quest)

III

Savour each sensation

Chapter III

If music be the food of love, play on.
William Shakespeare

xXx

.

At the sight of Erik looking down at her with such love, a happy smile tilted Christine's lips. A moment later, a flush heated her face as she realized the sheet had shifted in her slumber and now rested at her waist. With one hand she drew the silk cover over her bare skin, before recalling there was no longer a need for modesty. She hesitated, holding it clutched above her breasts, uncertain.

"Good morning," she whispered.

His brow lifted in gentle amusement and he leaned down to touch his lips to hers in a light kiss before responding. "Good afternoon."

Her eyes widened. "Afternoon?" Her gaze took in his clothes. "You're dressed," she said without thinking, and wondered if he detected the disappointment in her voice.

By the spark that lit his eyes, he did.

"I needed to find us breakfast." He withdrew to collect a parcel. "Are you hungry, mon amour?"

"Mmm. Ravenous." Feeling happier than she remembered ever feeling, she resisted the girlish desire to giggle and sat up among the pillows, tucking the sheet beneath her arms. "What have you brought me?"

"A meal suitable for a queen." He returned to their bed and laid a bundle of canvas between them, untying the cloth. "Gold from the east of Seville..."

"Oranges?" She loved the golden-yellow globes that concealed the sweet Spanish red fruit, ever since the wise prophet Malakh had first brought one to her inside the mountain.

"No, the oranges in Seville are very bitter. These are called mangoes." He took a red-golden oval from the parcel and concentrated on cutting into it with his dagger, slicing off a hunk of the succulent golden fruit from within. He took it between his fingers and put it to her lips.

She took an eager bite. Her eyes widened in pleasure. "It's so sweet!"

"A food of the gods ... and goddesses," he added with a smile.

At the reminder of their long-ago words that seemed to belong in another lifetime, she returned his soft smile and accepted his offerings as he fed her small portions. Once, as she took the fruit into her mouth, her lips covered his thumb and forefinger, her tongue licking the juice from his skin. His eyes darkened and her heart pounded. Already she felt the fire stir within. Was it possible, after having so recently experienced their love to the fullest extent, to require it again so desperately, as though her need for him had never been quenched?

As he fed her the remainder of the moist delicacy, they stared at one another, wrapped up in a silence so deep it expressed its own powerful message. At the last bite, larger than the rest, the juice dribbled from her lips but before she could wipe it away with her fingertips, he leaned in to lick the trail from her chin. She gasped, her arms sliding around his shoulders at the same time his mouth lifted to her own. His tongue brushed against hers, teasing her, then curled around her bite of fruit, taking it into his own mouth. His intimate, unforeseen act shocked her, excited her, and as he briefly pulled away to chew the morsel, she took advantage of the moment to rid him of the mask then tug his shirt from his waistband. He helped her to lift it over his head.

Catching sight of his bare shoulder, she inhaled a quick breath. Puzzled at her response, his brows gathered. He followed her gaze as her fingers lifted to brush four lines of pink scratches with the utmost tenderness. Tears clouded her vision to see what she'd done to him; she never meant to hurt him. After all the pain, all the beatings in his lifetime, she had wished only to soothe. Memory taunted that more of the same raced along his back and she leaned around to look, distressed to see the truth. Caught up in their passion, she had been unaware of her actions. Her fingers ghosted over the scratches.