During Grace's short operatic fame, she and Erik grew somehow closer than she thought even lovers could. It startled her but filled her with joy. Each night after her performances he whisked her off behind a curtain or to a nearby secret where he'd passionately kiss her for a few moments then suddenly pull both of them backstage once more, so quickly they were left breathless yet not a person ever knew they were gone nor the risque tricks they got up to in those stolen moments. It was almost as if he could make time stop for just a couple seconds, and it thrilled her. Everything about it thrilled her, his touches, his hot lips, his seductive, deep eyes staring at her tattered soul. It was so attractive, so very appealing. His deadness, his anger, his lust, his tenderness, oh she could shiver at the thought of his tenderness. He could so easily trap her yet at the moment she was his favorite thing. He was dangerous. She half considered what would happen if she fell from his favor, if he dropped her from this high platform, this spotlight and she fell into his grave as he rose from it. For some reason that battle between them made her want him more.

At night, whenever he wasn't with her, rare as that was, she would sit and think about him and every thought was either one of fear or one of longing. There was no in between, all she needed was him.

And every night she sang, as far as his thoughts went, her voice, her sound, her silhouette against the rich velvet curtain; it made his blood boil and rage in his veins. He felt more alive with her than when he was teaching Christina. There was something so raw, so unadulteredly raw about her when she sang, something about how every note was filled with devotion and loathing. Emotions that he could not place. It was so beautiful and enthralling. The power and insanity, how she edged on hysteria and screams but they were oh so beautiful. Not to mention their alone times before he'd enter her room at night, before he'd check on her as she slept when she wasn't with him in his home underneath or when he could not spend the night with her. Seeing her at rest, peaceful, not knowing he was there was as incredible as when he kissed her and held her. The moonlight on her face, her eyes closed and her small smile whenever she'd turn over in her sleep. He could not place exactly why he loved those times. But he could not place a lot of things.

After tonight's performance, the final performance of the week of course, Saturday night, marked a change in their relationship. He stole her away a moment before the curtain had fully fallen, feeling a particularly strong urge to have her to himself for the evening.

He pulled her into his arms in one of his hidden rooms, and began kissing her as usual, but with deeper kisses she noticed, needier kisses, kisses that would leave her wanting things they could not yet do but might convince her otherwise but make her regret those decisions in the morning.

At the right time she broke away from his soft lips. "Will they not miss us backstage or worry about what's happened to me?"

He chuckled. "No my love, and if they do I do not care. I do not care if they call the Gendarmerie."

"Nora might worry."

"My dear please, I just want you for tonight. If you'd like I'll send up a note explaining how your strict manager does not let you have any fun and is such a grouch that he will not let you do anything other then rest your voice."

Grace smiled at him, knowing very well that Nora and George would not believe that. Well, he spoke to them as he spoke to everyone so they might believe the strict and grouchy part. But Grace always told them of his kindness and lenience of her. Honestly they were quite confused already so the note would just make things worse for when he did meet them as her lover. Not that she wanted that. He didn't need to. Their relationship wasn't normal and -

"Your thoughts have taken you off on a tangent, Grace. I'm jealous."

"I am sorry. Do not worry about the note," said she with a crimson face. "Let us go."

Down in his room, far beneath the crowded opera house, where hundreds of people were still slowly spilling out, Grace sat down on a luxurious sofa, oblivious to the stomping steps of the men and women above, the rustling of opera gowns, the scraping of props grinding against the wood floors. Sounds she was used to, along with Erik's shouts and directions and disgruntled, angry grumbles whenever something did not suit his sense of perfection. Down there it was silent, lush and silent. She reclined on the sofa, a dark chartreuse, tucking her feet under her, her white satin gown puffing up around her with the quick movement. She had not yet changed into one of the black affairs he kept for her down here for her comfort. That might tempt him further. He loved seeing black on her. This man in question had gone to fetch some wine and water - the latter for her as she was not in the mood for wine.

Her eyes wandered his apartments. Taking in the rich furniture, the nice things, the flashy, displays of wealth, comfort, ostentatious, and expensive taste. There was so much.

"Here you are, dearest." He threw his voice so it appeared right beside her ear though he was several feet away walking from a hall. She flinched. "My apologies," he added, noticing.

Grace shrugged and reached for her water. "It does not matter."

He sat down beside her and sipped from his wine, silent.

"Why do you fill your home with such material things?"

He choked a bit, as he always did when she asked direct questions and he was in the middle of something, absolutely not expecting it.

"It might ruin the mood, but if you must know it is because when I was a child the most expensive thing I had was a sack and dirt. No clothes, no bed, not a crumb of food. I want to make it up to little me by giving my adult self things I won't use that I would have given anything for. Permitting of course I'm more than financially stable."

She accepted that answer, wanting to press further but knowing neither of them really wanted to delve into that dark ocean right now.

"I love you," she said, turning to him, ready for his affections now.

He smiled under his masks, both physical things.

"I love you too."

He moved closer, his cold hands caressing her face, her arms, wrapping themselves around her as his lips moved to hers, then slowly down her throat. She held onto him tightly as he moved lower, respectfully not dipping below her neck, as she had told him that was not an area that welcomed his kisses below her clothes. On top of her clothes of course - that was another matter, and he always, if she wanted it too, took full advantage of that with his hands.

They moved further until her back hit the cushions and he was above her, his mouth back on hers. She was so entranced by him. He comforted her but kept her on edge, made her heart race but calmed her mind down. And the fact it felt like they were doing something nearly wrong - not staying after the show but running away to their nighttime secrets early, and of course society did not permit this kind of thing prior to marriage.

She was feeling brave tonight, drunk on his existence, on the night's success. So she did was many brave people did. She started exploring, and in this case it was him. Erik however, was funny about his body as she was about hers. Nothing could be taken off but feeling over clothes was permitted, and anywhere she wanted.

As his hands took hold of one of hers, her other hand slipped down his chest, fingers skimming the buttons of his coat and the ruffles of his shirt, the texture soft and fluid against her calloused hand. She hesitated around his stomach but venture downward anyway. Having no cares she found what she was looking for. He softly moaned against her mouth as she caressed him. Both of them were on fire, and their kisses suddenly became more heated and he pulled her closer as her hand pressed firmly down. After a couple more moments of intense pleasure, after he left trails of kisses and bites down her neck as she writhed, he pulled away and stared deeply into her face with such intensity she nearly lost her breath.

"What are your thoughts on marriage?" He asked. Grace gasped.

Marriage? What exactly was he thinking about? Marriage? With her? She couldn't imagine him wanting to marry her. Or herself being married. Or of the things marriage entailed. She was too broken. She was too scarred. Scared. Worried. What about children? What about everything in general? Did she want to live underground all the time?

I can't do that I'm not meant for marriage how does one do a marriage are we going to be like Nora and George what if something happens what if we decide we do not like each other what if he gets tired of me what if I am too much what If I decide i am not happy? Does he just feel bad about what we do? I don't care if we are found out. The people who love me will still love me and though they may be shocked they won't shun me. And what does it matter to me what anyone else says? I don't care about them.

"Grace, you're not breathing."

"What made you ask that?"

"Curiosity. I have the right to ask as many direct questions as you do, do I not?"

"I don't know if I have an opinion on the subject," she began, carefully wording this delicate sentence. "I just don't know. I know I love you."

"Let's leave it at that. I love you too."