Adult-FanFiction.org : Books

The Silent Wish	By : LaurieBaker Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 14629 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Author's Note: Although I originally said this was Leroux/Kaye Phantom, obviously the Webber influence is strongly weaving its way into the story as well right now. Again, thanks for all of the reviews.

---------------------

Luciano Sorelli was a creature of habit. Every morning, the robust Italian arose in his dressing gown to sit in his elaborate dining room with his serving of coffee, breakfast and the daily newspaper. Then he would practice a few strategies on his chessboard. But there would be no game playing today.

The large man banged his fist upon the table in outrage when he read of what had become of the Baron von Rothsberg.

“Is something wrong, Papa?” His daughter, Aurora, had just arrived from her upstairs bedroom and was glancing at him with consternation in her eyes.

Luciano beamed with delight. His daughter was a delicate picture in her lilac gown of silk and lace, her hair elegantly braided at the back of her head. How had a gigantic oaf such as he have ever managed to conceive such beauty? Obviously, her looks were attained from her mother.

“I am so distressed over what has happened to Basil!” he answered, referring to the Baron. “That man has been nothing but a gentleman. The first suitor you have had from an impeccable family background with a good head for business...so of course, he nearly gets killed by that cretinous monster!”

His daughter scowled at his words. Obviously, she felt the same way as he did.

“It was most unfortunate, Papa. I do hope that the Baron becomes well soon,” she replied coolly as she sat down and began to eat her own breakfast of fruit and a croissant.

“Do you, my dear?” Her father’s eyes lit up with interest. “Perhaps you should take the carriage and visit him in the hospital. I am sure that your company would do him a world of good.”

“Oh, Papa,” Aurora sniffed in disgust. “I abhor hospitals.”

“I don’t believe anyone does take a liking to them,” he laughed jovially. “Except perhaps all of those rich doctors. It would please me greatly if you did so.”

“Yes, Papa,” his daughter replied dutifully, head bowed.

-----------------------

But Aurora did not leave for the hospital.

Instead, she instructed the coach to take her to the Paris Opera House.

Aurora could not help but breathe a pleasant sigh of relief. It was so good to be able to be alone out in the open air for a change without being under such rigid supervision. And she felt as if she had come home when she reached the steps of the Paris Opera House. She had always loved the building with all of the magnificent staircases and columns. This was truly one of the most beautiful places in all of Paris!

But her mood sombered as she made her way towards the dark corridor by the dressing rooms. She asked herself what in tarnation she thought she was doing, coming here again. Once more, she was telling lies and deceiving people in order to see Erik. And she did not even know why anymore. Things had not changed between them. She still had not forgiven him for kidnapping her and debasing her in such a cruel way. Red roses and pretty words changed nothing. And his violence against the Baron had only made matters worse. She did not want to see her suitors killed off one by one. Therefore, she must reason with him and tell him to stop playing such nasty games!

Yes, that was why she was here!

Emboldened by her resolve, Aurora leaned her forehead against the brick that would release the trap door to Erik’s lair, caressing it with her fingers. All she had to do was press down upon the stone if only she could summon up the courage. She had come prepared with a lantern and a large kitchen match. Hopefully, memory would serve her well enough to find her way to his abode.

Breathing deeply, she pressed against the brick, sealing her fate for better or for worse.

-----------------------

The little monkey clashed the cymbals rhythmically to the sound of the music box.

Erik gazed upon the object that he had found last night as he had wandered through the remnants of his old home, ravaged by the authorities. He had assumed this relic would have been long gone by now. It had been his only childhood friend, the only companion to help him survive those days of the cage…even if it had merely been a toy his mother had given him in the hopes of keeping him quietly occupied while she made her negotiations with the gypsy caravan to sell her own son.

But hearing the music reminded him of that other dark night when Christine had come back and returned that ring. That was her last gesture before she had left him forever. And the ironically joyful melody of the toy seemed to mock his agony.

But he wanted the pain. He needed it so he could feel something beside emptiness.

After his drunken attempt to kill the Baron, he did not know what to do with himself next. He found that this time, his blood lust had not helped to ease his depression. There was no exhilaration for him as he watched the Baron fall at his feet. Perhaps, over the years, murder had become rather commonplace now.

As it was, he stood before one of his hated mirrors in his music room. Dressed in a simple white shirt and breeches, he remained unmasked as he forced himself to stare at his reflection. While his stomach recoiled in disgust from his own actions, he still kept his eyes focused upon himself.

And the inner voice tortured him.

Why are you so repelled at your own actions? You are good at this, aren’t you? Aren’t you talented at making people see what they don’t want to see in themselves? You made Christine see her own lust for you in public as she sang those lewd words in “Don Juan Triumphant” that you wrote for her. You made the Vicomte see just what a weakling he was as you made him dance to the tune of your Punjab Lasso. You made the managers of the Opera Populaire see that they were only worthy of the scrap metal business. You made Carlotta see that she was a talentless joke of an excuse for a singer. You made Aurora see that despite her ladylike stature, that she had dark desires and animal cravings just as perverse as your own.

The memory of Aurora’s tears rolling down her cheeks still haunted him. Her pained words, even now, still lashed into him with all of the viciousness of a whip: “You must think me the worst sort of whore”. Of course, she thought that about him after what he had done. And he had treated her worse than a whore, in all actuality. Again, he saw that horrible vision in his mind’s eye of Aurora hanging naked before him in the sling, her blindfold wet with her frightened tears. For a moment, he closed his eyes to try to extinguish that image. But then he stubbornly opened them again, refusing to allow himself such a luxury.

That memory and the reflection of his hated deformed face merged into one before his eyes. Yes, he thought, look at yourself. Look at the poor pathetic freak that you are now and that you always have been. Nothing has ever changed for you, has it?

But then he saw the reflection of a blond angel dressed in lilac coming out from the shadows…

Aurora. His goddess of dawn coming to his home of darkness…

For a moment, he stooped down to put down the music box and reached for his mask. But as he stood back up, he thought better of it. He would not put the mask back on. He did not deserve such protection. Then he turned towards her, saying nothing as he dropped his mask upon the ground, revealing his face to her in all of its ugliness, easily seen in the candlelight.

As Aurora neared him, she seemed uncertain and shy, still obviously afraid of him. The slight girl with the generous curves was so vulnerable to him. All he had to do was take her in his grasp and he could throttle her to death with little trouble. And yet, she had all of the power of her namesake as she slowly approached him.

Falling upon his knees, he kept his face upturned towards her, although he yearned to bow down and grovel at her white silken shoes.

“Forgive me,” he pleaded quietly.

-----------------------

Once again, Aurora was irresistibly drawn to this man, despite any common sense or regard for her own well-being.

When he threw his arms about her skirts, burying his face into the fabric of her skirts, she heard his horrible sobs. Her feminine instinct to comfort him grew stronger than her own resolve.

“Please, Erik…” she soothed as she stroked his hair and the skin at the back of his neck. “Don’t cry.”

She fell to her own knees beside him and reached out with her hand and traced the deformed flesh with her fingertips. Then she leaned over and pressed her lips against the wrinkled skin of his bared cheek. Inhaling sharply, he pulled her close against his chest. Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her with more tenderness than she had ever known him to be capable of. Pressing her own hands against his, she accepted the sweetness of his lips.

But soon the familiar carnal hunger started to spark between them as she found herself upon her back on the soft plush rug of his music room.

Although she wanted him more than ever, she became wracked with guilt. A man had nearly been killed yesterday. And here she was with his would-be murderer, engaging in more sordid behavior. Her association with Erik was truly making her turn more sinful by the day.

Aurora forced herself to pull away from him and rise back onto her feet.

“Please...Aurora...” he begged. “I need you...”

“I-I didn’t come here for this, Erik,” she said emphatically, trying to convince him of that fact as well as herself. “I only came to plead for you not to hurt any more people, especially on my behalf. What you did to the Baron was inexcusable. I do not want a man’s death on my conscience.”

“Why didn’t you just send me a note?”

“What?” she asked distractedly, taken aback by his unexpected question.

“You did not have to come all the way down here in person to relate that to me,” he said with a knowing look in his eyes. “You could have sent me a note through Madame Giry.”

That was true enough. And she was not sure how to handle such a blatant statement of fact.

“You probably would just have ignored it,” she shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant.

“You really are a terribly poor liar,” he smirked. “That is not why you are here, is it?”

When Erik once more pulled her towards him, oblivious to her small cry of protest, he rained kisses upon her forehead and on her cheeks. Then he kissed her mouth so deeply that she felt her toes curl. The desire gnawed between her thighs so sharply that she thought that she would faint. And worse, she felt like she could cry with relief at being back in his arms again.

How had things come to such a pass between them? He was supposed to simply be an ease for her horrid cravings...a secret indiscretion before she was to marry whatever horrid suitor was forced upon her. But she felt as if she had returned home from a long journey...as if he were somehow her salvation. And these feelings frightened her more than his face ever could.

“Stay with me tonight, Aurora...” he pleaded. “That Baron can’t bother you anymore.”

“We are not supposed to be like this,” she murmured breathlessly, pressing her forehead against his chest. “It is so wrong for us to go on this way.”

“You can’t ignore these feelings between us,” he said simply. “You can’t wish them away. We need each other too badly. And we have been apart for too long.”

He reached to undo the buttons along the front of her dress.

“Stay with me…”
- 9
- 10
- 11
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Silent Wish