Past the point of no return

BY : spikesbint
Category: M through R > Phantom of the Opera
Dragon prints: 31287
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera movie(s), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Night Vows
Chapter 6

His vision swam in and out of focus sickeningly as he recalled the events that had occurred before his unconsciousness. He was still inside the carriage, but oh God where was Christine? He was alone, and there was no trace of her or the driver. The horses were no longer hitched to the carriage, presumably stolen. Raoul scrambled up and climbed out of the overturned vehicle. Night was setting in and the streets were almost deserted. He staggered into the road, grabbing at the first passer-by.

“My wife have you seen her?” he asked.

The man shook his head and walked on, thinking him either mad or drunk. He was at a loss of what to do. He searched the darkened streets for an officer of the law, but in vain. Raoul felt a cold trickle of sweat as it ran down the back of his neck. What if she was kidnapped or worse? He was not so blind that he did not consider several scenarios almost too painful to bear. She had been in his care and he had failed her. Was it always his fate to be too late in saving her? He agonised.

He read the street sign to get his bearings, as he realised he was not far from a friend of hers. Hope stirred within him. Maybe she had gone there for shelter. However, he could not believe that she would be any more willing to leave him unconscious and alone, as he would her. He came to the address he had visited once before and knocked loudly. There was no answer and he was just about to turn away when a window overhead opened.

“What is your business monsieur?”

“Meg…Meg Giry?” he called up.

“Non, but I can get her. Who shall I say is calling?” asked the girl.

“The Vicomte De Chagny,”

The girl burst out laughing. “And I am the Empress of china. One moment sir,”

A moment later, a familiar blonde head peered over the windowsill. “Vicomte…where is Christine?” asked Meg in surprise.

“I do not know. I had hoped she had come here. There was an accident…”

“Wait one moment, I will come down,” said Meg urgently.

Raoul waited impatiently at the door until she opened it. He was still a little unsteady on his feet. He leant against the railing before his legs gave way.

“You are hurt, come inside,”

“No, I must search for Christine. There was a mob…the carriage was overturned. When I came to, she was gone,” Raoul explained.

A wave of darkness threatened to engulf him. Meg rushed forward to support him as best she could. “Madeleine quickly I need your help,” she called out to her roommate.

Her friend joined her seconds later, helping to support the almost unconscious Vicomte.

“So he really is a Vicomte? “

“Oui, he is my best friend’s husband. You remember me telling you about Christine Daae,” Meg replied.

“The girl and the opera ghost?” asked Madeline.

Meg nodded. “Help me get him inside,”

“He is very handsome to be sure, but if Madame Chernot catches us with a man in our lodgings we will be turned out onto the street,” said Madeline.

“Then we’d best get him inside and quickly, before someone sees us,” Meg replied.

“Have to find Christine,” Raoul muttered weakly.

“Sir you are no use to her like that. You are hurt. We will send for the doctor and the police,” Said Meg firmly as she and her friend led him inside and closed the door.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Christine lay against something soft and warm. She snuggled into it deeper. She could feel his even breathing next to hers and she moved to wrap her arms around him. Her eyes widened in alarm as her arms would not move. She looked around her in panic as she realised both her hands were bound above her head, firmly to the bed’s headboard. She would know this ornate bed anywhere. She had lain here once before, many long months ago. She turned her head to look at the man who rested beside her.

His eyes were closed and he wore no shirt. She could see that it was not her husband, but Erik. She pulled at her bindings, but they would not give. She glanced down at herself for the first time, noticing that she no longer wore her dress but a filmy nightgown. She blushed as she thought of Erik undressing her.

“Where is my husband?” demanded Christine, her voice sounding weak and fearful. She recalled the carriage accident and then nothing more until this point in time.

“You have been asleep for some time my dear. Your husband is fine, I went back to see if he were still there. Though God knows why I would even care if he had met his end,”

“He must be looking for me,” said Christine.

“He isn’t. In fact, I made some enquiries. He is with Madame Giry’s daughter, all safe. It’s amazing what knowledge a few measly francs will purchase,” he said with a twist of his mouth. “Rather apt wouldn’t you say? We, here, back where we started from?”

“Why have you tied me up?”

“I can’t risk you running the streets of Paris at this late hour Christine. I did it for your own safety. What would you do if I dared untie you?” he asked. He read the answer he was looking for in her defiant expression. “I thought so,”

She looked down at herself. “And these clothes?”

“I just relieved you of your corset. You were deathly pale and barely able to breathe with it on. I found you some garments when I searched around the opera house above. There were several rooms untouched by the fire,”

“Let me go,” she pleaded.

“No, I find I prefer you in my bed,”

“Erik, please,”

“It is not safe. I can see I did the right thing in binding you. You always were too wilful Christine. There was a time you obeyed your master,” he ended softly. He stroked her cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears that fell.

“I would rather take my chances on the streets of Paris,” she spat at him bitterly.

Erik sat up in the bed, quickly straddling her. It was then that she discovered that he had worn nothing beneath the sheets. Even now, her traitorous body responded to that knowledge. She yelped in surprise as his hands wrapped around her bound wrists.

“Do you have any idea what animals roam the streets?” he hissed in her ear. Christine looked up at him in fear. One of his hands left her wrist to trail along her collarbone. He noted the mark he had left on her throat the night before, and smiled in satisfaction. “And what they would do to this delicate young body?” He lowered his head to trail his lips where his fingers had just vacated.

“You are the animal,” she replied, her face twisting in disgust for herself and the feelings he was arousing in her.

Erik took her expression for disgust of himself. It hurt as if she had plunged a knife in his heart. White-hot anger exploded inside him as his hand travelled roughly down her body, to the hem of her nightgown and he forced her legs apart. He deafened himself to her pleas as he drove himself inside her. Both of them were breathing heavily as he looked into her eyes, neither of them moving mesmerised by the emotion in each other’s faces.

She let out a little gasp as Erik began to move inside her. Her leg wrapped around him involuntarily, drawing him in deeper. She was helplessly tied to his bed, but realised the power she still had over his body as her other leg joined its twin. She crushed him to her, her hips lifting to meet his thrusts. Her back arched as she felt the heat of his tongue as he suckled her breasts through the thin material of her nightshirt.

He took a hold of one of her legs and hitched it up over his shoulder, both of them revelling in the deeper penetration. She could feel the despair and need build inside her, almost wishing that she could crawl inside of him and they truly become one. It was in the desperate, passion fuelled moments of their coupling, that she realised he was already part of her. He was the passion in her voice, he was the love in her heart, and he was the note in her song. Without him she was nothing. She looked into his eyes, wishing she could touch his beloved face as he lowered it to hers and caught her lips in a drugging kiss. Both their cries of release muffled as they came together and she felt his warm seed flood her body once more.

He pulled away a little, to wipe at the sweat dampening his forehead and run his fingers through his dishevelled hair. He propped himself up on his elbows to study her. The blush of her cheeks and the glazed expression of pure joy and sadness mixed together, never failed to stir him. He could hold her like this and look at her forever, still buried in the depths of her body and he would have died happily having glimpsed heaven.

Erik felt disgust at himself for letting his anger get the better of him. Although she had not been unwilling when he had taken her, he felt the stirrings of what he could only allot to guilt. He was no better than those he claimed to be dangerous. Maybe she would be safer on the streets, away from him.

He slowly moved away from her, and she mourned the loss of his body next to hers. Christine was surprised as he stirred, only to untie her hands. He moved over to his side of the bed and lay back against the pillows, watching her.

“You are free to go,”

Christine rubbed at her wrists, more out of instinct than any pain.

“I know,” she almost whispered.

Erik lay there regarding her with a strange expression on his face, as she made no move to leave. She turned over to look at him, reaching out a hand to stroke his face.

“Well?” he asked.

She smiled softly at him. “There is nothing to be done this night. Raoul is in safe hands. I will stay with you,”

Erik looked at her in shock, hardly daring to hope. “When we return to the estate, will you...”

“Come to you? Yes,” she sighed in surrender. “In the night I will be yours. I can no longer deny you Erik,”

Erik pulled her into his arms and held her to his side, breathing in the fragrance of her skin. “You are mine Christine, you will never be anyone else’s,” he growled fiercely against her cheek.

The protest that rose in her throat, died as she admitted the truth of his curtly spoken words. The last thing that she remembered before sleep took her was the gentle touch of his fingers as they stroked her hair.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


A pair of lips made its way down her neck.

“Mmmmm,” she sighed softly.

“It is almost noon,” Erik breathed against her skin.

Christine’s eyes widened in alarm. She knew the source of her exhaustion. She and Erik had spent most of the night engaged in lovemaking. Her sanity slowly started to take over her again.

“I must go,” she told him urgently, rising from the bed.

He looked at her sadly, knowing that her daylight hours belonged to another. However, he was not too proud to take whatever crumb she offered him from her table. He nodded, also leaving the bed, to return her clothes to her. She watched as he retrieved them from a heavy wooden trunk.

“Come, I will take you to Meg’s residence,”

Christine could not stop her eyes from straying to the beautiful movements of his lithe form as he dressed. Once or twice he caught her watching him, smiling to himself as he saw her blush and quickly turn away.

She buttoned up the high collar on her dress, and glanced at him. “What if you are seen?”

He chuckled at her heartily. She was taken aback at the sound that was almost alien to him. “I can take care of myself well enough, but thank you for the concern my dear,”

“Who said I cared?” she asked.

Erik strode over to her, and took her arms roughly. He studied her expression. “You care. I feel it in your lips, your hands, when they touch me and I read it in your eyes, even now,” he said, kissing her hard upon the mouth before releasing her.

He put on his cloak and pulled the hood over his head to obscure his features. Christine glanced at the bedside table to see he had forgotten his mask in his haste to leave. She picked it up and followed him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Erik pulled on the horses’ reins, and dismounted, before helping Christine to the ground. He let his hands slide down her body as he released her, causing her to blush. She glanced up at her friend’s window nervously, afraid they were being watched.

He caught her chin and lifted her face up towards him. “I could kiss you now in this street and you would not fight me,” he drawled confidently. He sighed seeing the distress in her face. “But I will not, and will keep to our dateless bargain. Do not forget in the night that you are mine. I will watch to see if you leave today, if so I will follow. If you decide to stay, meet me outside the door as soon as all are asleep,”

“But my husband…”

“You are only his in the waking hours,”

“I think Raoul might have a couple of duelling pistols that would disagree with you, but I will be there tonight, I promise,”

The phantom mounted his horse and galloped off in the direction they had just followed. Christine almost had her hand to the doorknocker, when it was wrenched open and Meg ushered her inside the hallway.

“Christine, where have you been?” asked Meg urgently. “Your husband has been out of his mind with worry all night,”

Christine blushed shamefully at her selfishness. “I was safe, an old friend rescued me. We were unable to get word, as I did not know what had happened to Raoul. By the time I knew he was safe, it was too late to do anything and the person would not hear of me leaving alone, so I was forced to stay there,”

“Do I know this old friend? Was it someone from the Opera house?” asked Meg.

“Y-yes it was…”

“Christine!” cried her husband from the top of the stairs.

Christine closed her eyes in relief as her husband’s arrival halted any further explanations on her absence to Meg. She was encircled in his arms so tightly she could scarce breathe.

“My love, I thought you gone forever,” he sobbed into her hair.

Christine looked at Meg over her husband’s shoulder. She could tell that her friend was far from convinced by her tale, but she knew she would say nothing of it to him.

“It seems that an old friend of ours from the opera, was taking care of her. There was no man in the house to deliver her back to you, so she had to stay there overnight,”

“I am just glad you are safe, but how did you know where to find me?” asked Raoul.

“We made some enquiries as soon as it was light. It took a while, but here I am safe and well. But look at you,” she cried noting the ugly purple bruise on his forehead.

“It is nothing,”

“Nothing!” Exclaimed Meg. “The doctor says he has concussion and must rest for a couple of days and he says it is nothing,”

“Yes darling we must get you back to bed,” said Christine as she led her husband upstairs.

Meg went to close the front door properly, glancing out into the square as she did so. She noted a solitary figure perched high on a black stallion. His features were unrecognisable due to his hood. He touched a hand to his head in salute before riding away. There was something troublingly familiar about him, from what she could make out.

A thought came to her, but she dismissed it. the phantom of the opera would be the last person her friend would turn to, she thought, angry at herself for even thinking it.


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