"In sleep he sang to me. In dreams he came. That voice that calls to me and speaks my name..."
Christine Daae stood in front of the full-sized mirror in her new bedchamber, studying her reflection. Her color was softened by the brilliant white lace of her wedding gown, so much like the one her mysterious teacher had forced her to wear on the last night she had seen him. Her hair was set in an elegant fashion with ringlets on either side of her face to frame her beautiful eyes. She almost felt like she was wearing another costume.
Her mind drifted back to the mysterious, disfigured man who had captivated her so. Had he escaped? She prayed that he had. She could not bear the thought of his destruction by that mob. For whatever reason, she still felt connected to him, even now. But Raoul could never know that. …Raoul…
He would be coming to her chambers shortly, to share her bed as her husband. This was their wedding night, and the cold feeling in her stomach had slowly built up for the last few hours. Unlike with her mysterious Angel of Music, in Raoul’s arms she had to remind herself to be welcoming. As much as she loved him, his caresses were mechanical to her body. Something was missing. But that was probably her mind playing tricks. Raoul was the quiet type, so his touch would be less intense. It fit.
“Christine…” Raoul smiled, entering the room. The sight of his new wife still knocked the breath from his body. She was exquisite. Her dancer’s body was strong, but her feminine features were dazzling. He crossed the lush carpet, stopping just short of her and reaching for her hand. “Oh, Christine.”
“Raoul…” Christine smiled, stepping closer to him. “I was thinking about all the times I dressed up at the Opera Populaire.”
Raoul’s expression shifted from a smile to a frown as he took hold of her hand, a little tighter than he meant to. “Oh?”
Christine ignored his intense grip, bringing her gaze to his face. “None of my costumes was ever as magnificent as this gown.”
Raoul smiled. “I’m pleased that you like it. Though, I must confess, my interest lies with what hides beneath the fabric.” He watched as a blush colored Christine’s cheeks. She was so innocent. So young. And she was his. Not that madman’s. What had always been his, he had been forced to fight for because some demented creature of darkness had laid claim, defying him.
“Help me to disrobe?” Christine asked, turning her back to her husband. Her heart was pounding and anything to prolong the before was welcome. She closed her eyes as Raoul’s hands went to work on the line of buttons at her spine. His breath was on her skin as he leaned over his task in utter silence. She could feel the gown’s fitted bodice start to slip down her body, exposing her bare back that much more with each unfastened button.
Raoul’s touch was sure against her skin, his fingers brushing against her back as he continued to undo the buttons. But she could not help but remember another man’s touch. A sensual style of caress toned down by leather gloves. The Angel of Music’s touch had made her body sing, even as his voice calmed the tension in her muscles. She still wondered what his touch would have been like with his bare hands, her curiosity betraying her in her dreams where he sometimes made appearances. It was that one, passionate kiss that plagued her. Dare she think about it, it had been so pure, so…charged. And her subconscious relived it every night no matter her outward loyalties.
She soundly slipped into one of those dreams, seeing the lair, the candelabras, the bed. In moments, she felt the careful pressure of his hands on her body, his fingers curling against her hip. Shivers traveled through her, a fire sparking inside her veins, as his palm molded to the curve of her shoulder, sliding over her throat and sweeping across her upper chest. Her knees lost all will to stand and she fell backward, resting against him, as his strong arms enveloped her body like protective wings. Then her legs were taken out from under her as those same strong arms cradled her weakened body. While she dreamed, Raoul moved slowly, carrying her as if she was light as a feather, to the bed and she felt the cool texture of velveteen cloth against her naked backside as he laid her down before joining her on the mattress.
Raoul traced Christine’s outline against the sheets, surprised that she had suddenly drifted so far into her thoughts. It was as if she was asleep, but her hungry embrace said otherwise. Still, he felt a chill. If she had never been with a man, how could she be imagining it so passionately? He had yet to go further than undressing her and laying her down, but the soft moans she emitted belied something else entirely. And it was not anticipation.
He moved away from her inviting form, sitting up. “Christine…”
“Angel…” Came the moderately breathy reply.
His suspicions confirmed, Raoul shook her shoulder without any sort of gentleness. “Wake up, Christine.” His fury ran like molten lava in his veins. It was his wedding night, she was his wife, and before he could even touch her she had retreated into a fantasy…..with another man. With that man!
Christine’s eyelids fluttered as her subconscious took its time returning to the world. The dream melted away, leaving her wide awake with a pounding heart. Her senses returned as she opened her eyes and saw Raoul’s bare upper body as he leaned away from her. His expression was anything but loving. She sat up, reaching for him. “Raoul…”
“I have never asked. You disappeared for a full night. I let it go once you were returned to me.” He said, his tone darkening with each word. “You are my wife, Christine. You belong to me, now.”
Christine felt an involuntary shutter run through her. “Raoul, no. No.” She grabbed his arm, imploring him to look at her. “Don’t think it. He never touched me.”
“You deceive me well, Christine.” Raoul stated, jerking his arm from her grasp, only to grab her own arm in return. “He may never have physically touched you, but it’s clear that his seduction has imbedded itself into your mind.” He stared at the ring on her finger. “Legally, you are mine and I still find myself competing with that …creature… for your affections.”
Christine bit her lip. “Raoul, please…”
“When I bring you into my bed, you call out for him.” He said.
The bitterness in his voice visibly rocked Christine to the core. She understood. Her heart might want Raoul, but her body wanted her Angel. “I’m sorry…”
Raoul held his tongue, released her arm, and moved off the bed. “You’ll sleep alone tonight.”
She watched him pull his trousers back on and leave the room without a single glance in her direction. She had never seen him so furious. It terrified her far more than when her Angel had turned on her. He was hurting, but she could do little to ease him. No matter how she turned his head with words of loyalty, her body did not react to him. It was already programmed to react to another.
Tearfully, she laid back down and shut her eyes pleading for sleep to come. As she tried to force herself to sleep, her thoughts drifted to Erik...her Angel of Music...Why was he intruding her mind so shamelessly? One part of her wanted to shun him from her mind but another part welcomed him. She slowly fell asleep as her mind battled a silent conflict, for she loved two men... but which one did she love the most?
(( So I won't claim all of the credit for this RP idea because someone gave it to me...Anyhow, it's a nice little twist, isn't it? I'm all for Erik but this RP can actually go anywhere...Sorry if it's too long for you....))
Jade_NightWarrior Community Member 
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