Phantom Madness

“Erik, I’m hungry. I’ve not eaten for days.” Erik sat in a chair across the room from her. He slumped as if tired, but his eyes were trained on her. “Hungry?” “Yes. I’ve not eaten for two or three days. I suppose that even the Phantom gets hungry?” “How do your days compare to my months? I’ve a hunger that will take a lifetime to satisfy. Perhaps your lifetime, Madame.” “Erik, please untie me.” She waited for him to scream at her. His silence was more effective. She recognized the anger as it churned in the pit of her empty stomach. “M. Phantom, we’ve met before. You remember, don’t you?” How could she help but let a bit of her own sarcasm rise to the surface. “I was the ballerina, third from the left. Mme. Giry, my mother…” “Another traitor,” he snapped coldly. Meg pursed her lips. She knew Erik had forgiven her mother years ago for trying to separate them. “Yes, she couldn’t understand how I could love a monster.” If he insisted on playing the monster, so be it. She saw the tightened expression around the corners of his mouth and his eyes. She’d hit her mark. “I’m hungry, M. Phantom. You’ve brought supplies, so I daresay your plan is not to starve me to death.” She didn’t know how it was possible, but he crossed the room and stood in front of her before she saw him move. A whisper was all it took because his face was next to hers. He knelt between her thighs, spreading them even farther apart. His hands braced the back of the chair as if he would fall if he didn’t grab hold of something to steady himself. “I told you, ma petite, your hunger does not compare to mine. J’ai faim. A hunger you cannot imagine. A hunger you don’t want to know.” His tongue came out and licked her lips. His eyes blazed with a cold fire, studied her, waited to see terror in hers. There was no fear in Meg’s eyes, only desire. She licked her lips, savoring his taste.