Chapter
Ten: Culmination of Desires
Erik told
his tragic tale in a voice Meg had never heard in him before; usually any
stories he had to tell, whether cheerful or sad, were told with great theatrics
and all of the skills of the born storyteller.
But, this time, while telling Meg the very reasons why she shouldn't
care a whit for him as well as the reasons why she should, he was distinctly
quieter. He spoke barely above a
whisper, sounding close to tears at some points, ready to draw blood at others,
and extremely uncomfortable at others.
The more
she heard, the more convinced she became that Erik not only wanted her love...
he needed it. Never once had he
been loved by anyone; not his mother, not his father, not even Christine. After a life of forced isolation, Erik's
hopes of finding love had vanished as surely as mist under the fierce summer
sun. He clearly harbored little
optimism that Fate would smile on him in any way; for during his long story his
shoulders slowly slumped down under the weight of his awesome sadness and
painful memories.
Yet, she
couldn't suppress a shudder or two when Erik told of how he killed his gypsy
keeper at the tender age of thirteen.
The man had been attempting to rape the young Erik, which made Meg want
to retch, and murder had been the only way to escape such a sickening act from
happening. It was disconcertingly
similar to her encounter with Delacroix and Meg decided that she would
definitely would've done the same if she'd been strong enough.
If Meg
thought Erik's childhood was difficult, she was unprepared for his tales of the
Shah's court in Persia. What a barbaric
and medieval place it had to be! Women
treated as little more than slaves and often raped, tortured, and killed on
whim with no retribution towards the attacker?
All subjects forever on the guard against traitors and those who hoped
to gain another step up the hierarchical ladder? She only hoped that she never had to visit that place.
Finally,
the two decades of his life, taken up mainly by the building and subsequent
haunting of the Paris Opera House. Meg
was surprised to learn that Erik had not only helped fund Garnier's brainchild,
but had been extremely involved with the design and embellishments of the
building.
"So,
that's how you can disappear through walls and hear everything said within the
Opera... you built the secret tunnels and things while working with
Garnier." Meg interrupted him once.
Erik
looked at her with mild amusement.
"Very correct, my dear.
There are thousands of doors in this Opera that the management have keys
to... and at least a thousand more that they don't." he added with a
slight air of self-satisfaction.
Clearly, he was very proud of his clever contraptions that easily fooled
all of the Opera staff.
Unwilling,
or unable, to talk freely about his relationship with Christine, Erik merely
skimmed over that particularly painful episode of life. With carefully chosen words, he finally
delved into the past months he and Meg had spent together.
"It's
very difficult to explain, Meg, my dear... the way I feel for you is like...
nothing I've felt before, although comparable to my previous feelings for
Christine." he said quietly, almost as if he were afraid of frightening
her with the mere volume of his voice.
"I
barely know where to begin... how to describe the things I feel."
Sensing
his approaching panic, Meg put a hand on his sleeve, looking up at him with
gentle eyes. "Just tell me... you
don't need to wax poetic to me. I am
more interested in what you say rather than how you say it."
Erik met
her gaze steadily despite the turmoil he felt.
After all that he'd told her, she still wanted to be close to him? Would this child never cease to amaze him? Probably not... but that did not indicate
that she would be able to handle what he wanted to tell her.
"Give
me time..." he whispered, taking her hands in his with a mildly desperate
gesture.
"The
way I feel for you, Meg..." he began, his voice shaking only
slightly. "It is comparable to
what I felt for Christine... but more.
I frightened Christine, she was continually uneasy around me... while
you... you don't seem to be forever checking the shadows for me, even when I am
there. You trust me, which is something
I never expected from you... it's a rare gift and I thank you for it."
Meg
nodded, blushing slightly, "Go on."
He took a
deep breath. "You are a part of
the corps de ballet... I daresay you are familiar with the rumors of a
man's appetite for... physical pleasure.
Some are heavily exaggerated, some are not."
Meg
blushed again, embarrassed that someone, anyone, had overheard the
colorful re-tellings of love-making sessions that girls like Jammes, Genevieve,
and Michelle told regularly. She had no
experience with men other than those shabby, second-rate stories and her
terrifying encounter with Delacroix.
What was Erik about to tell her?
"You
must understand, Meg... I am a man... an ugly man, but a man nonetheless. And I have emotions that you may not
understand as of yet." Erik
continued, knowing that if he didn't get through this soon, he'd surely perish
trying. "When I'm around you... I
can barely control myself. The urge to
make love to you is constant and very difficult to master. You are very tempting, Meg... so beautiful
and sweet."
"So...
you merely lust after me?" Meg asked quietly, her eyes wide with Erik's
candid words.
"No,
Meg! Far from it!" he exclaimed,
insulted that she would even think that.
"The truth of the matter is... I love you."
Their eyes
met, their faces scant inches from touching and Meg stifled a small gasp. It was what she had dreamed of Erik saying
to her in the dark nights, her own body pulsing with the same desire he had
described.
"I
love you, Meg." he repeated quietly, as if it had just occurred to him as
well. "I love you more than I ever
loved Christine."
"Why?"
she asked in a soft voice. "Why
me?"
"Meg,
how can you ask?" he breathed, shaking his head. "You don't shrink away from me or shudder when I go to touch
you. You seem to actually enjoy my
presence, rather than simply tolerate it." He paused and took another deep breath. "In the caverns, just now... you kissed me... and called me
'love'. No one has ever done anything
like that before. You treat me as no
one has ever treated me... like a human being... like a man worthy of such
attentions... how can I help but love you?"
He rose,
pacing with his customary agitation.
"I'm old enough to be your father... a criminal, and ugly as all
sin... Lord knows, I don't deserve to be in the same world as you... let alone
as intimate with you as I'd like. But,
God help me, Meg... I love you as no man has ever loved a woman before."
She
couldn't move... could barely breathe... this elegant, malnourished soul
counted himself unworthy of her love.
Most likely, he expected her to run screaming out the door at the
thought of a creature such as he loving her like that. But, no... she would do no such thing. Erik needed her love, that much was obvious
by his stiff and pained posture. He
waited silently, perhaps dreading the moment that he would turn around and find
her gone. One touch from her hand would
release him, tell him what he so desperately needed to know... if she only had
the strength and courage to reach out to him.
Slowly,
she rose, walking towards the dark shadow that was Erik, her heart beginning to
tremble as surely as her hands already did.
With a deliberate gesture, so as not to startle his predator's
instincts, Meg extended one hand and let it drift to rest firmly on Erik's
shoulder. He started only slightly, one
of his hands coming to rest over hers, his long fingers playing gently across
the back of her hand.
With one
small step, Meg closed the distance between them, laying her head between his
shoulder blades and letting her other hand slide under his arm to rest over his
heart. Through the cloth of his fine
linen shirt and his vest of black suede, she could feel the well-defined
muscles of his back against her cheek and the rapid beating of his heart. As a sort of test, she pressed her breasts
against his back and tightened her hold of his shoulder, daring to place a kiss
at the back of his neck, just above his collar. She was rewarded by an quick intake of breath, followed by a deep
trembling, and an increase in his heartbeat.
"Meg..."
he breathed. "Be careful,
love."
"Careful?"
she echoed with a smile, kissing his back.
"I'm not afraid of you, Erik... I love you. And I want the same things from you that you
wish of me."
"Do
you?" he asked with a slight laugh.
"Yes...
you said that you felt desire for me... a hard to control lust."
He only
nodded, too concentrated on governing his rising tide of passion to reply with
his voice.
Meg slid
around in front of him, never separating her body from his completely and
pressing her breasts against his chest.
She could now feel his heart beating in time with her own. With nimble fingers, she undid the ties of
his mask once again, tossing the leather piece on the couch. Before Erik even had time to react, Meg's
fingertips began to explore his face; gently tracing the scars and hollows that
marred the right side, gliding down his strong jawbone on the unblemished
left. With a delicate forefinger, Meg
wiped away a single tear that had fallen from Erik's ghostly white eye. He closed his eyes, treasuring the sensation
of her thumb brushing his bottom lip, tenderly kissing her fingers.
Unable to
withstand much more of this blessed torture, Erik wrapped Meg in a tight
embrace, claiming her mouth with only a hundredth of his true passion. Still it was enough to take Meg's breath
away and respond by letting her tongue slip between his lips. He groaned, a sound that vibrated all the
way down to Meg's toes.
"I
can't take much more of this, Meg... it's not wise to play with fire." he
groaned as the kiss broke off.
"I'm
not playing, Erik." she smiled as she kissed his ear, gently biting at his
earlobe. "I want you..."
"God save us all..." Erik murmured as Meg all but dragged him her bedroom, closing the door behind them.