Unmasqued

When his fingers touched her nipple, still sensitive from the arousal of her dream, Christine felt the jolt of pleasure; and as he kissed her, his tongue slick and strong, tangling with hers, her eyes closed. She felt the memory of desire rise again, and then his hands sliding over her breasts, pulling the lace of her night rail away, releasing them to the cool room. Her lower body was still trapped, and Raoul had moved, lowering his hips so that his cock pressed down into her sex through all the layers of blankets.

He was breathing heavily, and when she opened her eyes she saw that his were glazed and odd, determined in a way that caused her a pang of nervousness. Still, he kissed her, holding her shoulders in place again, arching his back so that he could move his lips along her jaw and down over the delicate skin of her throat. His mouth was light and wet and harsh and sensual all at the same time, and Christine couldn't move away from the sensations, the unending trickles of his lips. She felt jumpy and achy all at once, and her eyes fluttered as she fought to keep them open, to focus on the ceiling above instead of the feel of his mouth on her skin.

He sucked hard and long at her neck, and she gasped as the sensation poured through her body, tingling in her belly and down into her throbbing sex. With one smooth move, Raoul had a nipple in his mouth, and she could hear his labored, rasping breathing as he sucked and sucked, drawing it into a point at the back of his mouth. The incessant tug of pleasure-pain was so unbearable that she cried out, and Raoul lifted his head.

"You'll marry me, Christine," he said, his lips full and red, his eyes blazing with determination, his words choppy with emotion. "You'll marry me… and you'll forget about that monster. I don't care… what my brother says. You'll… marry me."

He was rocking against her, his breaths coming faster and faster until his eyes rolled back up into their lids and with a soft sob of release, he shuddered against her, bowing his head against her chest, dampening her skin.

When he looked up, his face was wet with tears, and when she tried to roll away, he grasped her wrist, pulling himself up. "Christine," he said, "tonight, when I return, you leave with me. You are mine. Do you understand?"

Tonight she would be gone, with Erik.

"Raoul," she began, scrambling for something to say. The gentle boy was gone, completely gone. His fingers around her wrist hurt, enough that she wanted to gasp with it, but she saw that oddness in his eyes and dared not. She dared nothing but agree with him.

"I'll protect you from him, from all of them," he said, sitting up next to her, still grasping her wrist. "I'll make you forget what that monster did to you, and you'll be with me, Christine."

Holding her wrist, he pushed his other hand under the bedclothes, far down beneath them to the juncture of her legs. Before she could move, he covered her with his palm, slid his fingers up and into the folds of her sex and began to stroke with long, easy movements.

She was more than ready for it, and the surprise of his sudden movement caught her off guard so that the pleasure consumed. Her world centered there, between her legs, and rose and fell. Christine gave herself up to it, let it go, and focused everything on the sleek rhythm of his hand.

She felt Raoul next to her, heard his raspy breathing and the strange low sobbing in the back of his throat. She knew he was the one touching her, bringing her to the body-wrenching shudder she knew would come.

But it was Erik she thought of. Erik she yearned for.

And Erik she wept for when at last she came, and her body convulsed in relieved tremors beneath the fingers of another man.

Tears leaked from the edges of her eyes as she prayed, prayed that her escape today would go as planned.

When she opened her eyes, after a long moment, it was to see Raoul standing there, his eyes focused on her. "You'll marry me, Christine. You are one thing my brother will not keep from me."

He left the room with a silent swish of the door.

Chapter Twenty-two

Two hours after Raoul left her, just after the midday dinner was being served below, Christine heard the shouts of alarm that portended the burning stable.

She was ready, and without hesitation, she left her chamber through the passageway in the closet.

Only moments later, after meeting no one, Christine emerged from the small servant door at the back of the chateau. The sunlight over the patches of snow was blinding, but the crisp winter air was refreshing and biting, tinged with smoke from the burning stable-but it was the air of freedom.

Though she wasn't free from the Chagny brothers yet, she was closer to Erik than she'd been for days. She knew he was out there, just beyond the trees past the low stone wall. And over that stone wall and beyond was true freedom with him.