Chapter 8 : Redemption
Time lost
all meaning for Erik under the spell of this sweet dancer's kiss. Without even realizing it, his hands had
curled around her waist with surprising intimacy, pulling her closer to him and
sliding up to rest on her back. Her
hair was loose and the silky ends brushed the backs of his hands. Her lips felt warm, moist, and soft... so
very soft pressed against his. He swore
he could feel her heart beating against his chest in rhythm with his own. Can this truly be? Could she truly love a creature such as
I? Or is it merely pity? Erik's mind questioned ruthlessly, even
as his heart increased its rapid pace and his hands pulled Meg against him more
tightly. Either way, he thought
to himself, this is a moment to savor.
Dear,
sweet Lord... so this is what it feels like. Meg wondered silently, memorizing how it
felt to be held and kissed by this extraordinary man. Her hands were around his neck, her slim fingers gently combing
through his short, black hair in encouragement. His body was a tightly woven mass of hard muscle and heat, that
for some reason felt absolutely exquisite against her own flesh. Her eyes had closed instinctively and as she
brought one hand forward to cup his cheek, her fingers encountered the scarred
flesh there. To her own surprise this
reminder didn't faze her at all; indeed, she pressed her mouth against Erik's
harder, reveling in the feel of his masculine lips.
Without
even thinking, Erik pulled Meg flush against him from breast to hip, gently
parting her lips with his tongue and delving only slightly. His hands wandered up and down her back of
their own accord, as far up as her shoulders and as far down as her slender
hips. At this close contact, he could
feel the small mounds of her breasts crushed against his chest and he felt a
new and ultimately fierce surge of desire sweep through him with relentless
intensity.
Stop!
his mind screamed at him. Stop right
now, or else you'll take the child by force!
Don't force her, you idiot! She
never told you to do this! Now the
minute you let go of her, she'll run off crying rape! She only kissed you out of pity!
Now you've taken it way too far!
Abruptly, Erik broke off their kiss, all but pushing Meg
away from him. He stumbled backwards a
few paces, hitting the wall with uncharacteristic clumsiness. Meg stood where she was, stunned speechless
by both the intensity of his kiss and the sudden stress in Erik's form.
"Erik? What..?" she asked quietly, hardly able
to find her voice.
"I'm
so sorry, Meg! Please, please, forgive
me! I never meant to do anything to
harm you!" he managed through his harsh breathing and sudden tears.
"Erik,
what are you talking about?" she asked in confusion, closing the distance
between them in a few small steps.
"Why do you need my forgiveness?"
After a
few nervously drawn breaths, Erik continued a bit less shakily. "I didn't mean to take advantage of you
in any way. I misinterpreted that
kiss..."
"Misinterpreted? What do you mean?" she asked, fear tightening in her throat.
"Meg...
I know full well that my face is revolting to look at, let alone touch or...
kiss. It was only out of... pity that
you did that, I'm sure. But, you see...
I've only rarely been touched before and... I just lost myself." He
explained raggedly, his breath calming.
"I never meant to take advantage of you and I'm sorry I put more
into that kiss than was really there.
Forgive me, Meg... please."
He had
steadily been approaching her throughout this speech and had led her to sit on
a nearby rock. With an uncertain
glance, he hesitantly knelt in front of her on the cold stone floor, her hands
clasped in his, his posture one of supplication. Meg was as shocked by his position as she was by his words. Did the man honestly believe that she was
offended by the passion he had put into his kiss? Apparently so... for she had the distinct impression that he was
once again close to tears.
With
extreme caution, so as not to upset him any further, Meg pulled one hand loose
from his grasp and gently caressed his left cheek. "Erik, you did not misinterpret my kiss." she began
softly.
He raised
his head slightly, looking up at her with confused, yet still hopeful eyes.
"It
was not meant in pity, love." she whispered.
That
word again! Why does she keep calling
me that? Erik wondered briefly, before finding himself being pulled to a
standing position in front of Meg, who had also risen. She looked up at him with those stunning
green eyes of hers, tenderness and a hint of fear present. Not fear of him, he thought, but fear of
whatever it was she was about to say.
"I
kissed you, Erik... because I care for you and I... I love you and don't want
you to be alone anymore." she said shyly, glancing down only once to
betray her fear. Before Erik could even
react, Meg pulled his face down to hers, kissing him again. However, this time she slipped her own
tongue between his lips, which had parted slightly in shock. Meg continued to hold his face in her hands
while she kissed him, her fingers gently caressing the ruined skin.
To her
intense relief, Erik responded to her kiss with equal fervor, letting his hands
slip to her waist and his tongue explore her mouth in turn. A small moan escaped her as his hands
pressed against her back, forcing her breasts to crush against his heaving
chest. Her hands slid from his face to
the back of his neck, encouraging him to take it as far as he wanted.
"Meg..."
he whispered hoarsely when they finally parted after what seemed to be both a
lifetime and a mere second in time.
Unable to find the words to express the intense emotions assaulting his
senses, Erik simply held Meg tightly, nuzzling her neck gently with his face,
wet with tears. She clung to him,
afraid that if she let go he would turn away from her again.
"I've
been wanted to tell you for so long, but... I was afraid you'd take it as puppy
love or pity." she mumbled against his ear, thinking coherently only with
great concentration. "I've loved
you since after you started giving me dance lessons, Erik."
"Why?"
was all he could ask. "Why
me? Surely you want better than this
hideous freak of nature."
"Stop
that right now!" she half yelled at him.
"You are not hideous at all."
"Meg..."
he drew away reluctantly, forcing her to look at him. "This is not the face of a normal man... it belongs in
someone's nightmares, not in a young lady's dreams. I am frightfully ugly and I know that...it's a cold fact, there's
no other way to say it."
"Perhaps...
perhaps not." Meg shrugged slightly.
"But, should it matter how you look? Delacroix was handsome as anything and look at how beastly he was
in character. You may be... deformed...
but you're a kind and gentle man. I
would much rather spend my time with you than with any other man, handsome or
otherwise."
Erik's
eyes dimmed sadly. "Kind and
gentle men do not go about killing others, Meg... and you know that I've
killed... Delacroix is only one in a long list."
She
stiffened in his arms for a moment.
"I knew you'd killed before, but... please tell me it was out of
self-defense."
Erik
looked down in thought. In most
instances, it had been self-defense... but how could he possibly explain the
countless deaths that he was responsible for in Persia? Not to mention the deaths of Joseph Buquet
and Piangi...
"Well...
many were, yes... but, I was a hired assassin, you might say, in Persia. The sultana paid me to conjure up tortures
and 'amusing deaths' for accused traitors and infidels. Nor can I say that Joseph Buquet and
Piangi's deaths were accidental." he whispered uncomfortably.
"Amusing
deaths?" she echoed faintly.
He sighed
and withdrew from her completely.
"You must understand, Meg... the 'rules' are different in
Persia. Like France's medieval days,
most everything is punishable by death and people are tortured into confessing
whatever crimes they are charged with... all for the entertainment of the
court. I found it as distasteful as you
do, but... at the time, there was little I could do about it."
"As
for Buquet and Piangi... I'm afraid I have no excuse. Buquet, I found wandering on the lake while I was prowling
without my mask... he saw my face... I flew into such a rage that I killed him. My sole excuse is my temper, nothing more. Piangi's death was completely unprovoked...
I only killed him so that I could sing in his place to Christine." he continued softly, sitting on the rock
with quiet despair. How could she
possibly stand to near him now? But,
how could he not tell her? It was her
right to know what sort of man she had fallen in love with... if that was the
case.
Finally he
found the courage to look at her; she stood where he had left her, her slim
arms wrapped around herself and the tears streaming down her face in earnest. Oh yes... he'd succeeded in scaring her half
out of her wits now. Poor thing was
probably only too scared to run screaming from him. With a heavy sigh, Erik rose and retrieved his mask from where
Meg had dropped it, preparing to leave and spare her his presence.
"Wait!"
she cried just as he was about to "disappear" into the shadows.
He stopped
and turned to face her, his brow furrowed in confusion under the safety of the
mask.
"I
don't know the way to your house from here very well... don't leave me
here." she said softly, wringing her hands absently.
"I
would think you'd rather go back up... home." he cocked his head at her
curiously.
"I
would rather go home..." she smiled, her cheeks blushing that endearing
peach color again.
Then she looked up at him with those striking eyes of bright green, her smile widening just a bit. "I'd like to make your home mine... if you'll let me."