For Love of the Phantom (Phantom Rising Book 1) by Davyne DeSye

Author:Davyne DeSye [DeSye, Davyne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Illuminus Publishing, LLC
Published: 2015-12-10T05:00:00+00:00

24

DIRE WARNING

Suffused in the glow of their passionate lovemaking, Christine lay in Erik’s arms, the windows open to the warm August night, curtains pulled open to remove any impediment to the movement of the stagnant air. The bright moon shone through the window illuminating their intertwined bodies. Erik’s pale skin glowed white in the moonlight.

Christine ran her hand slowly over Erik’s well-formed and nearly hairless chest, as her foot moved up and down his exquisitely shaped and also nearly hairless leg. Her eyes drank him in.

“You look a god in this light – like a marble statue in your perfection,” she whispered.

“I have always been strong, despite being thin,” Erik responded.

“Not just strong. Perfect,” Christine said, raising her head from her glance down his body to kiss him. She paused when she saw the pained look in his eyes.

“Clearly not perfect,” he said. “I suppose my creator became bored once he reached my shoulders.”

“Perfect,” Christine murmured as she kissed him. Dissatisfied with his unenthusiastic response to her kiss, she said, “You must forget I ever showed apprehension at the sight of your face. I certainly have forgotten it. I love you and find you perfect. Now kiss me properly, or I shall cry.”

Erik obliged with passion, and Christine settled back to her pillow with a satisfied sigh. “I could do this forever quite contentedly, if not for the fact that we must steal each moment we have,” she delivered a playful punch to his shoulder, “and that you are less willing to come to me since the Persian’s visit. Have you devised no plan for us?” she asked.

“None as yet,” Erik answered. “The Persian is still in London. Completely outside of the danger of Raoul discovering us …”

“God forbid!” Christine whispered.

“… The Persian presents a danger. He is biding his time. I cannot guess at his motives or plan,” Erik finished.

“Surely he does not still worry you. He has not called for nearly a month, and Raoul says he does not seem to be doing anything. He is quite disappointed with the Persian’s efforts. Raoul, at least, does not believe you are in London.” Christine wriggled against Erik and laughed at the irony of Raoul’s certainty while Erik lay just down the hall wrapped in her arms. “He would send the Persian away in anger for speaking of you at all, but for the fact that he did not summon him in the first place.”

“The Persian presents a danger. Believe this,” Erik answered.

As if conjured by their midnight conversation, the Persian called on Christine the following day, while Raoul was away. Christine came in from the garden where she had been reading to the gardener. As she left the garden, Erik cautioned her against nervousness or distance, saying that these would only arouse the Persian’s suspicions. Christine greeted the tall man with a warm smile.

“I am so glad you could visit again,” she said, although the ruse of warm relaxation tested her acting abilities. “Raoul is not here,” she said,

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