Note: Sorry it has been so long...I got distracted by life. Thank you for shaking me out of it, andersm. :) I hope this jives with the rest of the story...I haven't been attentive to it in such a while. Let me know your thoughts, and I will try not to take such a long while with the next chapter.
Silvia struggled out of the carved bed, the heavy quilts tangling with her legs and impeding her progress. With a final heave she freed herself from the coverings and rushed towards the door. She knew that if she did not press her advantage now – that of being in his home – she would not be given the opportunity again. If she did not corner him and beg his tutelage, she would see neither hide nor hair of him ever again no matter what effort she expended. The Opera was his domain, and all of the doors leading to him would be shut to her if she did not manage to put her foot in the way of them now.
She opened the door to see the winging cloak flutter into the organ room. "Erik!" she called after his departing form, but was not surprised when he ignored her. Her bare feet pattered lightly against the heavy carpets as she followed him determinedly, ignoring the cool underground air that raised bumps on her skin. She rounded the corner and stepped into the organ room, stopping short when she saw he was already facing her, his dark eyes dangerous.
"Erik, will you not listen to me?" She began quickly, determined to say her piece. "Your music, it is why I am here. I want to learn, I want you to tea—"
Silvia broke off with a squeak as the Phantom suddenly closed the distance between them, grasping her shoulders in his bruising grip. "You have no idea what you ask, little one." The diminutive was now an insult. "In your arrogance you expect me to put aside my desires and teach you. You think I am cold and that my heart is also. You think I can stand the sight of…this…" he gestured at her, sharply, before continuing, "daily, and resist the temptation. You think I can steel myself against the rejection that I will ultimately experience when your repulsion gets the better of your desire to be taught."
Silvia shivered in his grasp, aware now that she was clad in naught but her chemise, guilty for approaching him in such a fashion and ashamed that he thought it was purposeful, that she had calculated the move in order to persuade him.
"Tell me," he continued, his voice low and dangerous now, "why I should not give you into the care of the siren of the lake. She has no mercy, that one, particularly for trespassers."
His words were meant to frighten, and frighten they did. Silvia had no idea who – or what – the siren might be, and no desire to find out. "Erik, please," she pleaded, her hands clutching his coat, leaving creases in the expensive material. "I ask only for your wisdom and your tutelage, nothing more. Nothing more."
He laughed, carelessly, his head thrown back and his teeth glinting like knives.
"Is what the mask conceals so horrible," she continued hurriedly, "as to outweigh the beauty of your voice? I have not truly sung in my life except for under your care. It was far too short a lesson."
Silvia's breath came rasping in her throat, the only noise in the silence that followed her words. The cruel glint that had gleamed in Erik's eyes was gone now, replaced by a considering look. She prayed her words had gotten through to him, and that he wasn't just trying to determine the best way to dispose of her.
"The gods will punish me for this," he said eventually, so quietly that Silvia wasn't sure if the words were meant for her ears. The anger had gone out of him, leeched away and leaving Silvia with the impression of defeat. His shoulders seemed bowed under the weight of some burden, and his eyes more grim. But he nodded as he settled his gaze on her. "I will teach you."
Silvia smiled, relief evident in every line of her body. "Thank you," she said earnestly, stepping forward to grip his hands. Then, impulsively, she moved closer and embraced him. "Thank you," she repeated, her words muffled by his coat. She felt his arms settle around her hesitantly, as though she were fragile, or as though he disliked touching her.
"Silvia," the Phantom murmured, untwining her arms from around his neck. "Little one, if you stand here any longer in that state of undress, I will not be held responsible. Go and change. Your second lesson begins now."
Silvia nodded, her mind working sluggishly after the embrace. She had felt his heart beating, felt the quickening of it, felt the careful hands on her waist. He had been hurt by a woman, by many women during his life, but had he ever been soothed by one?
He watched her warily as she stepped closer to him again. She could see the question in his eyes but gave him no time to ask it aloud. Tip-toe, she pressed a fleeting kiss on his cheek, much like the one he had given her what seemed like aeons ago.
"Thank you," she said for a third time, and turned to go.
His hand on her arm stopped her, and he drew her back inexorably towards him, his arms no longer hesitant. They pressed her slim body against his, and his lips met hers as much from his volition as her own. She slid her arms around his neck once more, the better to be close to him. His hands whispered over her chemise, along her spine and into her hair.
Silvia's thoughts were awhirl when finally he let her go. There did not seem to be enough air in the room to fill her lungs sufficiently, and it was surely a miracle that she was able to stand at all. Her wide eyes gazed into his, both of their expressions somewhat awe-struck, somewhat fearful.
He recovered first, his gaze becoming hooded and distant, his mouth a thin line once more. "That must not happen again," he bit out in a harsh voice, and Silvia did not argue. She stood rooted to the spot, her cheeks flushed and her limbs trembling. "Go and change," he ordered her, and when she did not move immediately he took a step towards her. "Go and change. NOW!"
She fled.