Page 128 of Our Strange Duet

I prayed to God for the courage to seal my oath.

“I’ll be with you,” I murmured, then released my hold of his hands and gently cupped his face, bringing it to mine.

For a moment, we only stared at one another, his mismatched eyes panicked with wonder and wanting. Then I rose on tiptoe and kissed him, pressing my lips to his with a fervent pledge, surrendering my whole self—my heart, my body, my mind—to him.

Somewhere in the dark behind us, Raoul howled.

Erik broke the kiss first, letting out a startled hiss that sounded equal parts pleasure and pain. His breaths were deep and gasping. He looked dazed, lost in a confusion of thoughts, and I threw my arms around him, trying to still his trembles.

His movements were slower than mine—slower and so cautious—but when he finally enfolded me into a possessive embrace, I felt as if my missing half had been returned, and we were whole at last. He pressed his lips to my forehead, murmuring something I could not hear. When I looked up to meet his gaze, he grew bold and kissed me again.

That kiss was like a struck match. We both were the tinder, and together how we burned.

His hands moved across my back—grazing at first before growing confident enough to wind around my loose hair, then caressing my arms and running the pads of his fingertips over the soft skin of my inner wrists.

He touched me with adoration, with reverence, and I realized I was the first who had ever allowed him such access.

I placed my left hand in a curve along his misshapen cheek, feeling the thick ripples of scar tissue and protruding cheekbone. His hair was so fine, as soft as the downy feathers of a baby bird, and I gently gripped it, bringing him even closer to me.

“My Angel,” he murmured against my lips. Our mouths were wet, and I noticed we were both crying.

I went to kiss him again, but he took a step back, casting a void between us I didn’t understand.

“Erik…” I reached for him but he jerked away, stumbling into the pipe organ. He grasped the music stand to steady himself as his eyes darted around the room, shifting from me to Raoul, then back again.

“I…” He brought a hand to his lips as if he could still feel the imprint of our kisses upon them.

I knew I felt it on mine. My mouth was hot and tender and aching to return to him. It was as though a dam had broken, spilling out my desires in a flooded torrent too wild to ever again stanch.

But Erik made no motion to return to me. Uncertainty clouded his features as he stared at Raoul. I turned back to look at him.

What were we to do with Raoul?

Just because I had chosen Erik did not mean that Raoul was bound to accept this without question, without protest.

I shot him a look, silently pleading for him to understand, to leave without a fuss.

I loved him enough to save him, to secure his freedom before mine.

We would have had a beautiful life together—a simple one, uncomplicated with worries or cares. We would have skimmed through our days with a blissful, peaceful love.

But he had never set me aflame in the way Erik did. He could never have joined in the song of my heart, matching it pitch for pitch, crescendoing from the basest of lows to the most dizzying of highs.

“Raoul, you have to go,” I said, speaking up in a bid to seize control of the situation. “You have to leave us.”

He only doubled his struggles, kicking wildly even as the noose tightened.

“Please,” I begged, unsure now if I was talking to him or Erik.

With a deft flick of his hand, Erik grabbed a lit taper from one of the massive candelabras nearest him.

I froze, unsure of his intention.

An unbidden scene flashed before my eyes: Raoul alight as if on a pyre, flaring into oblivion like an exploding Roman candle. My stomach roiled as I cast the hateful thought away.

Erik approached him, turning back every few steps to look toward me, to assure himself that I was still there. I felt like Eurydice in the underworld, praying that her beloved Orpheus would keep going, keep heading toward the light.

Don’t look back, don’t look back!