“Then you must learn. This is our way into his world. Not by the main entrance where you can be seen and heard, but through here.”
“Mama, I’m afraid,” she confessed again, grabbing her mother’s forearm.
“There is nothing to fear. Our plan will work perfectly. All we need to do is choose the date to bring his world crashing down upon his head.” Sybelle patted her check with the palm of her hand. “It will all work just fine. Don’t worry, child.”
It’s easy for her to say, Désirée thought. In her mother’s mind, it was all a rational plan.
“I should go now,” she announced, feeling nauseated from trepidation. “It’s late.” She retrieved her cape, and pulled it over her shoulders. Gently, she reached out and embraced her mother.
“I love you, Mama, you know I do.” She wrapped her arms around her mother’s shoulders, feeling the cruel hatred that permeated from her veins. It sent shivers through her body. She was hell-bent on the Ghost’s destruction, and there was no turning back.
Her mother abruptly pulled away and waved her hand in her daughter’s direction. “Go now, before you are missed.”
Torn over conflicting feelings for Erik and obedience to her mother, Désirée bid her goodbye and slipped out the door into the darkness of the night. As she walked down the stoop, she lifted her face to the gas light above. The mist that had crawled up the street earlier wafted through the city shrouding it in a thick fog. A chill ran up her spine as she quickly made her way back to the opera house to continue down the path of deception and revenge.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Erik walked down the dark streets, slipping in and out of the shadows taking his usual nighttime prowl. He found his feet carrying him on the pathway he had taken a few nights before. Perhaps it was curiosity, or perhaps it was fate. Whatever the reason, he was about to pass by Sybelle Renard’s establishment when the door opened.
Afraid of being seen, he slipped back into the shadows and remained motionless. His eyes fixed upon the form that stepped down gracefully from the stairs, clothed in a dark blue cloak. When her face turned upward and fell under the light of the gas street lamp, the shock drove into his heart like a wooden stake.
Désirée glanced back and forth, as if she were making sure no one noticed her exit, and then speedily walked down the street in the direction of the opera house. Erik slipped from the darkness and stealthy followed her through the thick fog down the small avenue of stairs, confused and angry over her whereabouts. What was she doing at the soothsayer’s residence this time of night? He was determined to find out.
As Désirée approached the perfect place where Erik knew of a dark, narrow alley, he glanced about the lonely street to make sure no one was watching before he quickly came up behind her unsuspecting body. In one quick swoop, like an eagle catching its prey within its sharp talons, Erik wrapped his hand around her mouth and dragged her body back into the dark dead-end alley. She struggled to escape, while gagged by his gloved hand pressed tightly against her lips. Muffled screams growled in her throat, as she wiggled unable to release herself from the death grip he had clamped around her waist.
Erik reached the end of the alley where no one could see or hear them in the shadows. He pushed her roughly against the stone building and clasped both her hands against the wall by her wrists, one on each side of her head. His eyes narrowed into cat-like slits in the darkness of the night. As he glared into her face, he knew without a doubt that his captive guest had recognized her abductor. Her blue orbs went wide-eyed, emitting a look of utter horror that crawled across her face.
“Don’t scream,” he growled underneath his breath. “If you do, it will be your last. Do you understand me, Désirée?” He tightened his grip around her wrists. Erik felt the tremors of fear overtake her body. She nodded in agreement and whispered to him in response.
“I won’t scream.” She gasped between her words, her eyes shut tight, as she pleaded, “Please, Erik, don’t hurt me. Please, I beg you.”
He looked at her frightened face and toned his anger. However, something in his gut told him to continue with his interrogation, as if her life depended upon giving the right answers.
“What are you doing coming from the soothsayer’s house at this time at night?”
“You saw me?” she asked, her lower lip quivering uncontrollably.
“Now why else would I have you pinned against this cold stone wall, Désirée? By all rights, you should be back at the opera house safely locked inside that charming little room I gave you, practicing scales on your violin.”
“I…I was getting my fortune told, Erik. That’s all.”
He raised one brow upon hearing her answer and stared into her eyes searching for truth. If it was there, it was hidden by the terror in her blue ocean pools. Even in the dark, they had the power to move him to damnable weakness.
“Does the soothsayer always keep such odd hours? You would think her business would be closed this near to the witching time of midnight.”
“She does,” she replied, nodding her head eagerly. “I’ve come before at this time, and she has read my fortune, my palm, and tea leaves…astrology too!”
“For what? Why do you need your fortune told?” Erik breathed heavily along the side of her neck, feeling the palpable terror as he neared her lying throat. “What did you want to know that was so important at this late hour?” He pressed his body against her frame shoving her harder into the wall.
“I…I wanted to know, Erik,” she stammered, the tears starting to stream down her cheeks, “if…if you…were going to fall in love with me.”
He pulled back and looked into her face studying each line of her features. “Why would you care if I loved you?” he demanded with a menacing voice that mocked her words.
Désirée struggled against his hands still wrapped around her wrists, trying to free herself to no avail. The tears flowed freely down her face, irritating Erik and playing upon his weakness. “Stop your infernal crying,” he snapped, “I won’t hurt you.”
Silence passed between them. Erik pondered the answer to Désirée’s question, which she claimed she had posed to the fortuneteller. Before he could say another word, she asked him bluntly.
“Do you? Do you love me?” Her apprehensive voice choked out the words.
Erik pondered how to respond, but baring his soul to another woman was not easy. It was easier to keep her captive, pressed against the wall, and in a state of fear. Then he could command anything he wanted from her with the upper hand of his male dominance. If he confessed any affection, she would weaken him. Then he would be vulnerable to her wiles.
The longer he held her, the more he enjoyed his strong mass pressed hard against her tiny body. Her breasts crushed against his chest, and the warmth of her flesh permeated his linen shirt. His eyes grazed along every line of her face and down to her moist lips. They were plump and full. Erik obsessed over them, wondering what it would be like to force his mouth upon hers and taste the forbidden sweetness.
The thought aroused him sexually. As his dark eyes lifted toward Désirée, he could see she felt his hardness rise, responding to his thoughts and heated desires.
“Take me if you want,” she told him, shaking. “You want to. I know you do.”
Erik dropped one hand from around her left wrist and slid it down the side of her body in response to her invitation. He wanted to feel the edges of her curves from her breasts to her hips. His caged lust expelled through heavy breathing as he moaned with craving for what lay hidden underneath her cloak. The darkness of his mind envisioned wrapping her legs around his waist so that he could enter her swiftly like an animal in rut. Temptation to take her ached in his loins.
In response, Désirée placed her free hand behind his head, and before he could do otherwise, she forcefully pulled him to her lips. Erik dropped his other arm, coiled it around her waist, and then thrust his tongue inside her mouth. The sensations he had dreamed of his entire life flowed through his veins, dr
iving him to a new kind of madness. The blood rushed to hardened flesh, and he groped with his hands across her body, seeking bare skin.
Désirée groaned in return, which only fueled their ferocious kissing. Erik devoured the sweet taste of her mouth, feeding the starvation of his soul. Desire burned through his veins, and he realized he was about to lift her skirt and take her in a dark back alley with no remorse. He wanted to enter her without guilt and feed off of her warm, wet flesh.
Swiftly, he withdrew his kiss and pinned her free wrist hard against the wall. Erik pulled away, while his heavy breathing confirmed he was on the brink of losing control. If she refused, he was afraid he would take her by force.
“You do not know what fire you play with, Désirée,” he warned, as his hot breath escaped his lips. “I could easily enter you here in this alley and take you like the animal I am inside. I doubt that is what you’d wish from me.”
He thought about the pleasures that awaited him; but instead, he dropped his hands and turned away from her body to put distance between them. His anger returned, and he shot her an accusatory remark.
“I don’t believe you,” he spat through clenched teeth. “I don’t believe you came here for a fortune.” His demeanor changed to one of dark brooding as he looked at the young woman he thought he could trust.
“I swear, Erik,” she insisted, stepping closer to him. “On my mother’s grave! I swear! I only came here to ask about my future.”
He studied her with narrowed eyes. “And have you found it?”
Désirée stood speechless. The cool, misty fog swirled around the heat of their bodies. Erik’s ears tuned to the sounds of the dark alley. A rat scurried nearby, and a storm gutter dripped water into a puddle. He listened to the heavy breathing of his lungs while he waited for her answer. The seconds passed like eternity.
“Erik, I… ”
Désirée ran toward him and flung her arms around his neck, burying her head into his shoulder with sobs. He stood motionless and stiff, his arms draped along his side as he inhaled and exhaled the perfumed air about her body. Slowly, he raised each limb and wrapped them around her waist, embracing her with tenderness. It surprised him that he was capable of providing comfort to another human. Emotion welled in his chest until he admitted amidst his own brokenness what he feared the most.
“I am falling in love with you. You have captured a heart, but I fear in the end you shall not truly love the monster underneath.”
“Oh, Erik, you are not a monster to me,” her words spilled out between her sobs. “You are the world to me.” She lifted her head and gazed into his eyes.
“We shall see,” he replied, releasing her and pulling the hood of her cloak up over her golden locks. He grasped her hand tightly and pulled her down the alley. “It’s late.”
Erik found speech difficult as he wondered about her visit to Sybelle Renard. She had asked him to take her at her word, but he struggled to do so. It was odd, out of place, and wrong timing. Why would she sneak out at night to get her fortune told? Had she done so before or was this just a random fluke of fate that he had luckily captured her in the act.
Upon returning, he found one of his workers waiting at the door. His surprised face spoke of fear, and Erik pushed him aside. “Lock it!” Now aware of how she weaseled her way in and out of the opera house, he continued to pull Désirée along down the hallway. Although she did not struggle, he felt a slight resistance over his less than tender treatment.
“We’ll talk tomorrow. I trust you’ll stay in the remainder of the evening.” His icy look replaced the barrier between them that brought a sense of safety to Erik and his vulnerable heart. She nodded and retreated inside her room, while he retreated to his quarters to drink himself to sleep.
* * *
The door closed and Désirée stumbled backwards into her room shaking uncontrollably. Sweating from the horror of the ordeal, she tried to untie the closure to her cloak but found that it had worked its way into a knot. She pulled and pulled until it gave no release, and then screaming in frustration, she grabbed the fabric with her fist and tore it from the seam. In one hard pull, she ripped it from her body. The cloak pooled at her feet, and she kicked it across the room. She wondered if Erik had heard her frustration but did not care.
Désirée ran to the small adjoining bath chamber to wash. After pouring water in a basin, she splashed the cold liquid on her face repeatedly, trying to wash the feeling away. Instead, she sobbed. She grabbed the side of the basin and held on tight as the room spun in circles. She realized that she needed to control her emotions or she’d soon faint. Her heart pounded in her chest with such ferocity she thought it would leap to the floor. After grabbing a nearby hand towel, she blotted dry her face.
“Calm down, Désirée,” she told herself, taking deeper breaths in an attempt to soothe the mortification clinging to her body. Finally, after the room stopped spinning, she slowly turned and walked back to her bed and sat down. Kicking her shoes off, she brought her feet up and lay back on her pillow.
Scenes from the alley played before her eyes, and she instinctively brought both palms onto her face trying to make them stop—it became impossible. Erik had discovered her at her mother’s residence. She told a boldface damnable lie swearing upon her mother’s grave she was merely there for a fortune telling session. Did he believe her?
Unsure whether he had, she cursed herself for not being more careful. She had no idea he wandered the streets in the dark at night. Did he follow her there? She had been unaware of his habits, but now she knew it was time to draw closer to him or otherwise he would catch her once again in another tall tale.
As the beating of her heart subsided somewhat, she withdrew her hands and ran her tongue across her bottom lip seeking the taste of his mouth. The water had washed it away, but she still felt the residue of where he had assaulted her with his tongue. His kiss felt as if he were searching out a deepness that frightened her to the core. Erik’s behavior was dark and unpredictable. When his hand crawled down her curves, she shrank in dread from his power.
The rumors swelled in speculation at the Garnier about the Ghost who lived underneath. Some said he hypnotized his prey and ravished many women in his lair. Others said he had never been kissed; he was so ugly no one would dare to come near him. She wondered if he had ever experienced intimacy between a man and a woman.
Désirée felt certain that he was ignorant of the ways of a woman, by the way in which he awkwardly handled her body. He clumsily groped her as if he starved for the touch of flesh. His kisses and the thrusting of his tongue into her mouth felt like he devoured her like a tasty meal. It gave her the chills to think of what he could be capable of once he bedded a woman.
As cold and frightening as Erik acted, he could quickly turn tender at a second’s notice once he relented. When she ran and put her arms around him to bury her face and sob on his shoulder, he held her tenderly even though it took him a moment to respond. In doing so, she heard the thumping of his heart in his chest and something broke inside of her own guarded affections. Désirée clung to the man who had literally destroyed her life.
The realization brought hot tears to her eyes. She rolled over and grasped her pillow, burying her face and shame into the white linen that willingly accepted the moisture between each thread. Had she forgiven him? How could she ever forgive him? How could he ever love her once he knew the truth of her deceit and the pain he had caused? The plan to destroy Erik waited to be fulfilled, and she would be an integral player in releasing the demons of hell upon his life.
“I’m damned,” she cried, sobbing hard, her chest heaving. “I’m damned.” Her mother would never let her relent, and now she was tied to the Ghost. The torture and pain would continue. Only this time, another part of her body would suffer—her heart. As she feared the agony ahead, she heard her mother’s voice bring her back to the task at hand.
“My daughter, we are in this together. Do not disappointment me now. Let me h
ave my revenge upon the man who stole everything from you…from us!”
Désirée sat up in bed, wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, and sniffled a few times. Her eyes stared ahead at the wall, with its hidden door that led directly into Erik’s parlor. She knew in her heart she must obey.
“Yes, Mama, I will do as you say. I promise.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The weeks passed, and the notes continued to arrive with regularity, containing the same threats to irritate and prick like thorns. Obviously, the authorities were useless in their pursuit of the author. Whoever penned the ominous words had not acted upon their forewarnings, at least not yet, for which Richard and Erik were extremely grateful.
To make matters worse, Darius announced his second set of keys had suddenly found their way to one of his drawers in his private quarters. It pushed Erik into another tantrum over the man’s uselessness. They had just spent money and hours changing every damn lock in the opera house. The architectural plans, however, were still missing. Erik wondered if they would suddenly return from the grave unannounced.
Erik continued to inspect the riggings above the stage on a regular basis, but nothing out of the ordinary reappeared. Perhaps the perpetuator had given up. Discouraged that his life lacked the peace he had sought, he kept his attentions focused upon Désirée.
Their lessons continued, and to his surprise, his student progressed satisfactorily. He mentioned nothing further of the night in the back alley nor did she. There were no words of love or emotions expressed between the two of them. Erik built a wall of professionalism once again of teacher and student. If Désirée wished for more, she concealed it well. Erik struggled to continue with the charade of indifference, all the while wishing he could give free rein to his desires. Even her name meant desire, and whispering it felt like warm honey dripping from his lips, making him hunger for the forbidden.
After a few more lessons, Erik decided that Désirée should perform a private recital. She balked at first, but he assured her that he would compose a rather straightforward piece for her to practice before performing. He often listened through the walls as she did so, setting a chair near the panel that led to her room.
The Phantom of Valletta Page 18