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Rossignol	By : Savaial Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 5231 -:- 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
- 1-Rossignol
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Ch 4
- 5-Ch 5
- 6-Ch 6
- 7-7
- 8-Ch 8
- 9-Ch 9
- 10-Ch 10
- 11-Ch 11
- 12-Ch 12
- 13-Ch 13
- 14-Ch 14
- 15-Ch 15
- 16-Ch 16
- 17-Ch 17
- 18-Ch 18
- 19-Ch 19
- 20-Ch 20
- 21-Ch 21
- 22-Ch 22
- 23-Ch 23
- 24-Ch 24
- 25-Ch 25
- 26-Ch 26
- 27-Ch 27
- 28-Ch 28
- 29-Ch 29
- 30-30- Epilogue
- 8
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A scream of utter agony brought me out of the couch.

Celeste.

I made it to her room in seconds and threw open the door. Celeste writhed in her bedcovers like a wild thing. Fear for her broken arm rose up in my breast. I straddled her, contained her violent movements with my weight and my hands. In an instant her violence intensified. Wrestling her good arm out from underneath me, she struck me full in chest. Her long disused voice rasped in the darkness, tore out of her throat in panic.

“Get off me! No more! No more!”

Realizing she did not know where she was or even who I was, I pulled her to her feet and shook her. “Celeste, wake up,” I commanded.

It was as if I’d cut the strings on a marionette.

Celeste slumped against me, sobbing. Her words were inarticulate and thready, but they were words nonetheless. She was speaking. I held her, listening to her cry and feeling her pulse throb against my chest.

“Erik,” she finally said.

“Yes,” I agreed gently. “It’s Erik. Erik isn’t here to hurt you.”

Without warning her legs gave out. I lifted her easily, stared down into her dark, wide eyes. “Erik is your guardian angel,” I said, repeating my earlier vow, while watching her pupils dilate. “Nothing can hurt you in Erik’s home.”

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

“Nothing can hurt you in Erik’s home.”

The warm words washed over me, coated my mind in unconditional surrender to his will. I knew nothing could hurt me. The administrator could not find me; the night watch could not seek me out, and my father…

My father was gone. I didn’t have to be afraid of him anymore.

I stared into Erik’s gold eyes, tracing the streaks of red against his pupils. The smells of patchouli, of masculine skin and safety coalesced into my understanding. Erik held me. Strong, gentle Erik had me in his arms. No one could take me out of his embrace; I knew it with every fiber of my being.

I reached up. Erik remained still as I touched his neck, but his eyes tracked my movements carefully. His skin felt like heated marble. He was so tightly made I could feel every vein that raised his flesh. If Erik was an angel, he was an angel made of very human skin and bone.

He shivered as my fingers slid over his nape. His breathing hitched ever so slightly as my touch moved to his collarbone. Again his voice flooded me.

“Are you awake Celeste?”

I fought against the coercion in his sweet tone. If he thought I was awake he’d put me down. I didn’t want him to put me down. I had never felt so safe and protected in my life. His masculine body was the first one I’d touched without fear.

His was also the first body I’d ever touched that wasn’t soft and flabby.

He felt so different from me, so hard and strong! Erik’s arms felt like wiry bands of iron. The ridges on his stomach abraded me through my gown, pressing against my side. He was all sharp angles and solid flesh, flexible sinew rolling under taut skin.

Yes, I was awake.

I nodded against his shoulder, unable to carry out a subterfuge even if it would keep me against him. His tone would take no lies. Perhaps he would continue to hold me anyway, if I was lucky.

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

She was so soft…

I thought for a moment she intended to take off my mask, and I went still with the sudden dread.

I could not, would not drop her to cover myself!

But her reach traveled down to my throat. Softly, delicately, she caressed my skin, her soft strokes reflecting the wonder in her gaze. Celeste had never touched a man before, though many had touched her. She stared at me openly, her dark eyes trusting and awed.

I caught my breath at that look. I had never, ever expected to see a woman look at me like this.

“Are you awake Celeste?” I asked, hoping yet terrified she was indeed awake and aware of me.

Celeste hesitated a bare moment, then nodded. My shiver wracked us both.

“Was it a nightmare?”

Another beat of silence passed.

“Yes.” Celeste’s rusty voice labored to produce that small word.

“You feel safe now, don’t you?” I stopped influencing her, hoping that she would continue to try and talk without duress.

“Yes Erik,” she whispered. “A-as long as you h-hold me I am safe,” she stammered into my chest. “And I, I am safe in your home.”

Fierce protectiveness swelled to life in my arms. I had to fight myself not to crush her against me. She was so trusting! I wasn’t worthy of such trust, but I would be damned if I gave her safety over to anyone else. Celeste was fragile, but I could bandage a butterfly’s wing.

“That is correct Celeste,” I assured softly. “The moment you call for Erik he will be at your side. There is no place Erik cannot hear you call for him.” As I spoke I put her back in bed. She tried to hold onto me, but relinquished her grip in a sudden spasm of weakness.

I sat at her bedside once more, determined to stay. If I had to stay the entire night to ensure her rest, I would do exactly that.

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

She slept for fourteen hours.

I read to her from several books of poetry, eyeing her sleep with satisfaction. As long as I spoke she made not a twitch, but when I stopped she became fitful. I halted the poetry for the last time and waited for her to awaken.

Her dark azure eyes opened. Comprehension flowed through her gaze like lightning and I marveled that her brothers could have believed her stupid. Celeste was a bundle of intelligence in a tiny and curvaceous frame. Every movement of her eyes betrayed her quick mind.

Philippe and Raoul were the stupid ones in the family.

“Good morning Celeste,” I murmured. “How did you sleep?”

Celeste frowned. “I- alright after you-” She halted, her hand flying up to her throat. "I'm talking," I said slowly, realization coming like the rising sun. "I'm talking."

“Yes, you are,” I chuckled. “And how does that feel?”
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