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Do I Dream Again?	By : LaurieBaker Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 10050 -:- 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
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When Christine awoke on a strange large four-poster bed in total darkness, she was completely disoriented. Even before she opened her eyes, she knew that she was in most unusual circumstances.

In the first place, she never slept in her corset; yet the despised whalebone contraption was still cinched tightly about her, obstructing both her comfort and breathing. Straining her arms behind her back in order to remove the offending garment, she realized that she was still dressed. What is more, she could not remember what gown she had been wearing when she had last been cognizant, but she was all too aware that this dress was extremely heavy, causing her to perspire profusely.

The overwhelming confusion pulled her forcefully out of her dreamlike state and into reality. Why was she in bed fully dressed? What bed was she in? Where in the world was she? Why was it so dark?

For a few moments, Christine was paralyzed in fear. She even forced a tightly clenched fist up to her mouth to keep from screaming out loud. Her heart pounding hard in her chest, she sat up, straining to see her way in the darkness.

Searching her memory, she tried to make sense of what had happened. The last clear recollection she had was her music lesson with Geraldine. Then she had become melancholy, made a cup of tea, had rested upon the settee...and then the strains of a song...his voice…

I am your Angel of Music...Come to me, Angel of Music…

Erik had come for her. He must have been the one who had brought her to this place. She did not know whether she should be relieved or terrified. She was a little of both.

Rising up to her feet, she stumbled about with outstretched hands until she found the bedroom door. As she made her way into a sort of foyer, she was glad to realize that there were a few windows about. The moonlight streaming through them eased her fears a bit. Moving towards one of the windows, she realized that she had entered another room. Was it a sitting room? A parlor? A library? She could not tell. Nearing the window, she pulled at the heavy velvet drapes, allowing more moonlight into the room. There was the dark silhouette of trees outside. Was this place in the country?

Looking down upon her mysterious dress, she realized why her gown was so heavy. It was a wedding dress! And on her hand was a solid gold ring!

The painful memories returned to her with full force…memories of the last time she wore a wedding dress…

Have you gorged yourself at last in your lust for blood? Am I now to be prey to your lust for flesh?

Hot tears of rage and betrayal burned down her cheeks. Why had she been fool enough to think that she could trust him?

Perhaps in her grief for his assumed “death”, she had made more excuses for him than he had deserved. Perhaps with her knowledge about his past, she had thought too much about how he had been abused and had forgotten how he himself was capable of abusing. Perhaps with her confused emotions and desires, she had fallen prey to romantic fantasies about a man who would always be a villain. He would still kidnap and he would still kill. Yet despite all of that, she had hoped that he had at least learned to respect her feelings. Was that not why he had let her leave with Raoul that night? Had he not loved her enough to let her go? And yet, here she was, his unwilling prisoner once more. And she had no knight in shining armor to rescue her from him this time. There was no escape.

The sound of a soft snore made her jump out of her skin.

Whirling around, Christine frantically looked about the room. There on what appeared to be a divan was a huddled form. When she saw the familiar white mask gleaming in the moonlight, she could not hold back her rage. Let him do his worst! She no longer cared what would happen to her!

“How could you!” she sobbed as she attacked him, kicking and scratching. Removing the wedding ring, she flung it at him viciously. “Oh, God, Erik, how could you?!”

“Christine...” he murmured softly, still apparently recovering from the deep throes of sleep.

“Is this some sort of a jest, Monsieur Phantom?” she asked harshly, indicating her dress. “If so, it is not in the least bit funny!”

“Christine...” he repeated, self-consciously adjusted his mask as he sat up. “I am so relieved to find you are well...”

“Don’t change the subject!” she interrupted. “Why am I in a wedding dress? Why am I wearing this ring?”

There was a tense silence between them as Erik rose and lit a candle. Christine realized that they were in a sort of makeshift sitting room which could have also been a library as there were several full bookshelves about.

“My dear,” he started hesitantly. “I realize that you are a trifle upset with me...”

“Yes, that would sum up the situation perfectly!”

“...but you see, I had everything timed and planned to the minutest detail. An unfortunate occurrence happened in London, dear heart, which made it necessary for me to leave posthaste.”

“What sort of ‘unfortunate occurrence’? Did you murder someone else?”

“No!” he snapped, clenching his fists as he paced about the room. “What a thing to say, Christine! I must say that your demeanor and temperament seems to have deteriorated considerably since you have taken to living by yourself in London. I am not accustomed to such sarcasm and ill humor from you; and I am not certain that I like this new personality of yours at all!”

“I am so sorry to displease you, my Lord and Master!”

“There!” he pointed, gesturing madly at her. “That is exactly what I am talking about! Just because you have had a small taste of independence, you seem to have completely forgotten yourself!”

Christine rather thought that she had found herself with her new occupation and home in London, but thought it a most inopportune time to argue the particular point.

“Why can’t I remember coming to this place? Where are we?”

“We are in our new home, Christine.” With that announcement, he gave her a proud smile. Her heart melted right down to her toes at the sight of it. Yet she braced herself not to be moved by his charm. “I do hope that you shall like it once you have seen it in the daylight.”

Christine remained stonily silent.

“And as for your memory, I believe that you must have had a nervous breakdown. Your mind appeared to have snapped...only temporarily, of course...”

“Because you cast a spell upon me again!”

Erik laughed out loud at her words.

“Good lord, child, you make me sound like a warlock! It was merely hypnotic suggestion. I am a man of science, not sorcery. Even my magic tricks have a basis of scientific fact behind...”

“And so while I was underneath this ‘hypnotic suggestion,’” Christine interrupted, “you decided to dress me up in this mocking fashion! I hope you have had your fun, Erik, because you should know that I will never consent to marry you now!”

“It is a little late to say such a thing, Christine,” Erik stated quietly, turning away from her.

“What do you mean?”

There was a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She yearned to reach out, grasp at his shoulder and throttle him; yet she did not dare.

“What do you mean?” she asked again.

“We are already married...”

Even though the world spun dizzily about her, Christine stood as still as a statue. She was shocked that she had not passed out in a dead faint.

“I don’t believe you,” she said after a long silence. “You would say anything to have your way with me.”

He seemed unfazed by her accusation.

“I assure you that we are indeed legally married.”

Making his way to a small desk in the corner of the room, Erik pulled a document out of a drawer.

“Our marriage papers.”

He presented her with the documents.

As Christine stared at the official-looking papers in shock, she noted the name. Erik Deveraux. And now she was no longer Christine Daae, but Christine Deveraux. Mrs. Erik Deveraux.

“Deveraux,” she repeated dully.

“It is not a true last name,” Erik admitted. “I never knew my last name. But ‘Deveraux’ is very elegant, do you not agree?”

Christine did not answer.

Flinging the papers at him, she turned away, sobbing.

“This is quite possibly the most horrible thing that you have ever done to me, Erik!”

“But, Christine...”

“How could you!” she screamed.

“Forgive me, but you had led me to believe that you wanted to get married. Did you not have reservations about our prior...intimacies...because we were unwed?”

“Yes, but...”

“So it seemed to me that the most proper action to take under the circumstances was for us to become married immediately upon arrival here at our new home.”

“Yes, but...”

“And now all is well. Our union is sanctified by God and man and the law. What more could you possibly want?”

“I wanted to be asked! I wanted a choice, damn your soul!”

“Really, Christine, such language!”

“Any woman would want to be present at her own wedding!”

“The ceremony was fairly simple,” Erik joked. “You did not miss much.”

“Don’t you dare make fun of me!” Christine screeched, hurling herself at him and beating at his chest.

“Calm yourself, Madame!” Erik roared, restraining her with little effort.

“I shall never forgive you for this, Erik! Not ever!”

Even as she glared at him with fury, Christine noted his expression change as they both became aware of the proximity to each other. No longer was he angry or annoyed, but his look was more heated and intense.

“You are so beautiful,” he growled before planting a hard kiss on her mouth.

Christine was paralyzed with shock as he explored her mouth thoroughly with his lips and tongue. He grasped handfuls of her hair, pulling her even closer to him. The sound of his masculine groan of satisfaction made her body stir with those sinful longings that were still new to her. Before she was even aware of her own actions, she was returning his kiss with full ardor.

“I am sorry, my sweet Angel,” he rasped as he finally released her from his kiss and nuzzled against her bare throat, suckling at her vulnerable flesh. “But I wanted you so badly. It was only right that we should marry right away. You feel the same way. I know you do. Remember how we were that night, Christine, in my room? Remember how you trembled in my arms?”

I am trembling now, Christine thought to herself.

He lowered himself upon his knees, gripping her hands and kissing them repeatedly.

“Be my wife in every way, Christine...do not deny me…”

Throwing his arms around her waist, he buried his face into her midriff, trapping her against him. She yearned to run her hands through his hair and to caress his mask, although she would not allow either one of them that comfort. A small gasp emitted from her throat nonetheless. Having heard her involuntary admission of passion, the blackguard tightened his hold around her body, even go so far as to caress her hips and backside in the most erotic way.

“You feel this need too, my love...I know you do...”

Christine’s mind screamed in outrage as her traitorous body began to ache for more of his touch. It was not fair to have such a deep desire for a man who was so utterly contemptible, so completely insensitive to her feelings as to kidnap her and marry her against her free will.

“Let me go!” she cried out as she pulled away from him, hearing the fabric of her gown rip slightly as she did so.

“You want me, Christine,” Erik replied simply, his eyes alight with fire as he watched her stumble down the dark foyer and back to the sanctity of her bedroom. “You want me as much as I want you…”

Slamming the door behind her, Christine stood against the bedroom door, shaking with emotion.

Damn him, she cursed. Damn him…for he spoke the truth. And it scared her to death.
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Do I Dream Again?