Archive of Our Own

Paris 1880 

Peeking out from behind the heavy red velvet curtain, your pulse raced like a startled hare and the corset of your ivory gown seemed to tighten around your ribs. Not a seat was vacant in the cavernous opera house. Thousands of patrons had purchased every available ticket, each of them as eager to see and hear you as you were anxious to perform in front of them. Men wore black tailcoats and women sported dresses and jewels in a bustle of kaleidoscopic colors. Below the stage on which you would soon stand centered, a sea of humanity sprawled the length of the theater. Above, the richest and the most famous guests filled the upper balconies and private booths. 

Word had spread like wildfire through the ranks of the Parisian elite, singing praises of the young virtuoso who had now come to grace the stage here in the City of Lights. Newspapers printed that you sang the way a falcon flies. Graceful, daring, and beautiful. However, your voice was not the only allure for some of the crowd. Eager men had come to catch a glimpse of your renown beauty, which was said to be extraordinary enough to draw attention even from the perfect pitch of your song. 

Other girls in the opera flitted around you, all equally nervous. Some sneaked a glance out of the curtains as well while others stretched their limbs or practiced last minute routines. There was a veritable harem of ballet dancers and harmonic singers who would perform throughout the course of the evening. Each and every girl seemed to be of one single mind. They were all aflutter at a rumor that had infiltrated their ranks and had spread faster than the calamity in a brothel. 

Rumor had it that a Prince from a foreign land had made the journey to Paris specially to watch this very show, and your very own debut. 

It was a foolish notion, you thought. The Prince, who hailed from a country you didn’t try to pronounce, had likewise been the subject of headlines, having been summoned to Paris on matters of business and the management of his great fortune. His name was never cited, only his moniker. The Black Prince. Rumors swirled like perfume on the wind about what had given rise to his dark title, but the smart money bet on his ruthless rise to power and the wartime battles he had won with blood and iron. He was unmarried. Which of course, to every eligible woman, meant that he was on the hunt for a wife, for what else could possibly occupy the thoughts of such a powerful man? 

As the lights dimmed and your pulse quickened, it was not the Black Prince who occupied your thoughts, but another man whose name, or rather whose legend, preceded him. The opera house was rumored to be haunted by a ghastly Phantom who stalked its darkened corridors, watching every performance from the shadows. If the specter was pleased by the evening’s show, he ensured a standing ovation. However, in the dreadful event that the Phantom was displeased by the quality of the opera, misfortune would befall the theater and all those performers who erred in their art. 

Alone, you stood centerstage when the red curtains were drawn open. The audience fell silent at the sight of you lit by the dim gas lamps that lined the front of the stage. Although thousands of eyes were fixed upon you, you could see no one in return for several long moments. The light blinded you when you began to sing, but your voice was sure and strong. With every note you sang true, your confidence soared and you found the familiar feeling of comfort under the scrutiny of a legion of unforgiving appraisal. 

Once your eyes adjusted, you were dazzled by luxury and opulence in a palette of crimson and gold, all canvassed in flickering candlelight that rained down from a pendulous chandelier hung above the seats in the theater. What was not adorned in those lavish hues was largely cloaked in shadow; the corners and crevasses, home to countless hidden secrets obscured by the darkness of the opera house. Perhaps somewhere within the embrace of darkness, the Phantom himself watched your debut and listened to your voice as you sung every note to perfection. Indeed, you could feel the presence of some malevolence in the air. To you, it did not feel dangerous but comforting instead, like a woolen blanket on a frigid winter night. It was also not the first time you had been aware of such a presence. 

The performance you gave was your best, as if you had been uplifted to greater heights than you had ever been before, carried high by the wings of a black specter. Every note you sang rang true from your lips in a voice that could make the angels sigh. The roaring applause that commended your finale had to have echoed across the entire city of Paris and as the red curtain fell before you, you knew that you had no equal in the opera of the day. 

Backstage, the girls all chattered about how they had caught a glimpse of the Prince, hidden high in his private booth. He was tall, they said. He slipped away after the curtain dropped but before the applause died, making his stealthy exit free of the crowds. 

Inside your dressing room, you gazed into a large gild-framed mirror, appreciating the way you looked dressed in your pristine gown surrounded by the hundreds of flowers in the bouquets that were sent to you in appreciation of your performance. You stayed later than the other singers and dancers. What many thought was a voice gifted to you by the heavens was in fact a kernel of natural talent that you had honed to a remarkable skill through years upon years of unrelenting focus and practice. In the late hours of the night when others celebrated their performance or slept peacefully, you remained in your dressing room. The events of the night replayed in your mind and you examined every note you had sung with meticulous scrutiny, musing how you could improve further still. 

Thoughts of the evening filled your mind like a ballet, carrying you off into a light dozing sleep there in your dressing room chair in front of your mirrored vanity table. In that hazy state between dreams and wakefulness, you soon felt the same presence fill your room that you had felt on stage; foreboding with a hint of danger, but accompanied by a protectiveness that enshrouded you. 

A faint brush against your cheek roused you and you couldn’t be sure if it was from your dreams or the corporeal world. When you opened your eyes, you saw a thick envelope resting in front of you on your vanity. It was secured with an ornate seal in blood red wax. Careful not to crack the wax seal, you opened the envelope and withdrew the documents within to find several sheets of music, written in elegant calligraphy. The music was a solo, a new composition unlike anything you had seen before. Reading the notes, you knew it was hauntingly beautiful. The solo was titled Music of the Night. 

On the last page of music, below the last bar, was a simple note that had been scrawled in the same flowing calligraphy. A gift from the Phantom. 

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Every night after you finished rehearsals, you retreated to your dressing room to practice the solo the mysterious Phantom had gifted you. It seemed as though every note had been written with your singular voice in mind. The song was sensual, evocative, and dark. It was the sort of melody a lonely spirit might sing in the halls of a long-forgotten castle, trying to summon her wayward lover back into her arms.

Midnight bells tolled outside the opera house and your voice rang within when you sensed a pair of eyes upon you. You were alone, as you always were in the witching hour, and the feeling of another presence in your dressing room was immediately apparent.

“Please continue, madame,” a resonant masculine voice sounded behind you. Frightened, you spun to look around the room but saw nothing and no one. “I will not hurt you, I only wish to have the pleasure of watching you sing and hearing your lovely voice.”

Unsure of what to do, you turned to face your gilded floor mirror that stood nearly seven feet tall. You looked frightened in the glass, but you composed yourself. You sensed truth in the man’s words, and you knew that he could have already taken whatever he wanted from you in the lonely darkness of the theater if that had been his intention.

“Did you like my gift?” the man asked from behind you.

“Did you write it for me alone?” you asked in turn. You watched your reflection in the mirror as an enormous figure materialized from the shadows. The towering specter approached you from behind but remained cloaked in darkness.

“Who else could sing it with such beautiful precision?” he asked and you could hear the grin on his lips even if you couldn’t see it for the darkness.

Although you could not make out the finer details of his appearance, you could see that he was massive. The man stood at least six-foot-three and was powerfully built, the muscles in his broad chest and shoulders could not be obscured by his black attire and black cloak. His hair fell to his shoulders in glossy ebony waves and his black goatee was defined against his pale skin. The way the shadows played across his features told you they were angular with a large but shapely aquiline nose, and his eyes glinted vibrantly even in the dim chamber. The right side of his face was covered by a mask of polished ivory, a stark contrast to the black of his clothing and hair.

“My mask is proof that I do not wish to frighten you,” he told you in a softer tone, reaching his enormous gloved hand to touch the ivory mask. “Whereas your face is the beauty which crafts the most wonderful dreams, mine is the fodder for nightmares.”

“I do not scare easily,” you assured him with a defiant tilt of your chin, looking at his reflection confidently.

“One of your many virtues,” the mysterioso observed as he stepped closer to your back. Still, the shadows seemed to follow him, obscuring the finery of his features from your scrutiny. Leaning toward you, his breath raised goosebumps on your neck when he spoke again, “I first heard your lovely voice in London. You were practicing behind one of the wings of the theater. You thought you were alone. I was early for an afternoon liaison, and I also thought the theater was deserted. But then it was as if the angel of music herself filled the theater with her song. Your voice touched me, even though you knew nothing of me. I knew in an instant with only my ears that you were the most beautiful woman in the world. I waited for you to reveal yourself, but you never did on that first day.”

“That was so long ago, I was a nobody then. But I remember.” You unconsciously leaned back toward the man who loomed behind you. “I remember that I sensed someone was there. It was comforting to know I was not alone, even if it was a ghost in the rafters. I have never feared solitude since that day.”

“Ghosts can be haunted too.” He brought his right hand that had touched his mask over your shoulder to your cheek, stroking his thick leather-clad fingers across your skin as delicately as a whisper. “And it is you, darling, who has haunted me.”

“You are the Phantom who haunts this opera house?” you asked with a teasing lilt. This bete noire was a man of flesh and blood.

“I have seen you sing before, but your performance tonight was astonishing.” His hand dropped from your cheek to trail away down the side of your neck. “Your song could even tame the beast in me.”

“Are beasts not better left untamed?” You smiled at his shadowy reflection.

“Sing for me.” His rich voice reverberated through to your bones. You weren’t sure if he was asking you or commanding, but you realized with some dismay that you didn’t care either way.

The notes he had written in your honor were already etched upon your memory and you sang them with ease. Every bar fell from your lips like an ethereal sonnet and the Phantom’s heart filled with your song. Your eyes fell closed with emotion as you finished on a lingering melody. When you opened them again, the Phantom was gone.

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Word of your remarkable voice spread far and wide, and ticket sales didn’t show any signs of ebbing. Despite your rigorous daily rehearsals in preparation for your operas, which were performed on Friday and Saturday evenings, you also devoted time to learning the mysterious sonnet in the hidden hours you stole during the night. The piece of music came to you so naturally, it was as though it were something you had known once but had long forgotten and were now remembering instead of learning it anew. Most nights while you sang you felt the dark but familiar presence watching over you. You found comfort under the Phantom’s gaze where others would find fright. Peering into the shadows instead of fearing the unknown as many would, you wondered what mysteries it held and what secrets the Phantom kept.

When the Black Prince was spotted in attendance at the same opera for the second consecutive week, the gossip among the other girls filled the cavernous theater to its domed ceiling. Speculation was rampant among the girls as to which of them had caught his eye, but you knew all too well his sights were fixed upon you. It was the primal feeling of being hunted that helped doe evade wolves in the forest that pricked your skin when you looked up at the Prince’s private box from your place on stage. You couldn’t see him while you sang, nor did you really want to, but you knew he watched you with lascivious entitlement.

What you had not anticipated, nor had the gaggle of other girls speculated, was that the theater director had grand plans of his own into which you fit perfectly. The director was an older bachelor whose blonde hair had run to gray years ago. He insisted all the young women call him by his first name, Luke, and although he was a shrewd man, he smiled like a simpleton whenever the ladies simpered his name. More so even than he coveted the attention of young ladies, he coveted his profits, and he was always watchful for ways to procure more of both vices. The repeated presence of the Black Prince ensured the opera was sold out for not only that show, but every show for the next cycle of the moon. With the eye of a natural lecher, Luke knew just as certainly as you did yourself which lady had captivated the Prince.

Seconds after the curtain fell, Luke swopped onstage in his customarily hunched gait. He congratulated you on the quality of your voice and took your hand, placing it on his arm in a brotherly manner. He led you off the stage and through the sprawling back of the theater as the night’s patrons made their exit on the other side of the curtain. Luke spoke to you of the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that had presented itself to you in the form of a potential royal suitor. In his sales pitch, Luke neglected to cite his own opportunity at greater fame and fortune by proxy from riding your petticoat.

You were so caught up in Luke’s verbal portrait of your luxuriant future, that you didn’t realize he had led you back to his own private office. The largest private room in the opera house, the director’s office was furnished less for utility than for recreation. The theater girls who visited it frequently after hours told you they found it quite comfortable, especially when plied with absinthe and gourmet chocolates. Comfortable enough to tolerate Luke’s attention, short-lived as it was in his advanced age, in exchange for the rich food and drink.

Those times previously when you had come to Luke’s office during business hours, it had been arranged so that it was tolerably professional with only the underpinnings of debauchery. Tonight, the décor pendulum had swung to its opposite end to accommodate pleasure instead of business. The office was lit by candles and the furniture was covered with draped red velvet and lace. Trays of aphrodisiac foods sat on Luke’s desk and bottles of champagne chilled in a silver ice bucket. You wondered darkly at Luke’s intentions with you, but he addressed your unspoken concern.

“You’re a very lucky girl,” he said with a wide smile. “Every other girl in the theater would scratch the eyes out of all the others at the drop of a hat for the chance at a private audience with the Prince himself!”

“What?” You shook your head incredulously. “Why does he want to see me? I need to practice my singing.”

“A night off will do your voice good,” Luke continued as he ushered you fully into his office. “And you are no naïve waif. A girl as pretty as you knows very well why the Prince may want a private audience with you.” Luke smiled lewdly at you. “Tonight, you could secure your future as a princess! You could put this opera house on the map for the next hundred years as the place where this assignation occurred!” Luke clapped his hand on your shoulder and looked at you sternly. “Perform your encore well tonight and give the Prince a good show. Your future depends on it.”

Before you could protest, a knock sounded on the office door. Luke was as giddy as a blushing bride himself when he left you standing, still aghast, to answer it and admit the Prince.

The man who stepped through the door, leading with his walking stick and tipping his top hat to you, was not at all what you had expected. The Black Prince was not dark in appearance at all. Quite the contrary, he sported a pair of pale blue eyes and ginger red hair with the pasty complexion of a man unused to venturing out of doors for longer than necessary to walk to his carriage or glare up at the sun. He was indeed tall, but gangling and awkward, seemingly in poor command of his scantly muscled limbs. Perhaps it was to his mood that his nickname referred. If his pinched expression was any indication of his temperament, his demeanor appeared to be very black indeed. He surveyed the room around him with the sour expression of a man inhaling a putrid odor. When his eyes fell upon you, he offered you a rodent-like smile and an ungainly bow.

“Armitage Hux, and first, let me say, my dear, that you are even more beautiful up close than you look onstage,” The Prince greeted you in a nasally but cultured tone. He took your hand in his cold boney fingers and raised it to his lips. His hands were effete and smooth, not the strong calloused paws you would expect a man to have.

You thanked him politely for his compliment, but retrieved your hand as quickly as you could.

“And I do not speak only for myself,” he continued with a smarmy smile. “I speak for everyone who has seen you and heard you sing. It is a common sentiment, or so, I hear.”

Luke backed away from you and the Black Prince, trying not to disturb either of you as he slipped out through the door and closed it silently behind him.

“I brought you a gift,” Armitage Hux informed you proudly. He reached into the inner breast pocket of his tailcoat and withdrew a slender velvet box. Opening it for you, he displayed an extravagant diamond encrusted necklace, resting in its velvet bed. “A small token of my affection.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly accept such a gift,” you stopped yourself from adding, from you.

“I insist.” He stepped behind you to put the necklace in place. You would have had to jump to dodge him effectively. Furthermore, you had no frame of reference for the etiquette of refusing a gift from a royal, so you felt obligated to accept.

“It’s beautiful. It’s the most lavish gift I’ve ever received,” you said truthfully. Looking down at the diamonds that shimmered on your chest, you couldn’t help but compare the necklace of untold cost to the piece of music the Phantom had written with his own hand for you alone, which was of infinitely more worth.

“Oh dear, you don’t like it?” Hux noted shrewdly. For all the unpleasantness of his appearance, he was a keen observer. “What gift can I give you that you would like more? You need only to name it. There is nothing you could ask for that is beyond my means.”

You thought for only a moment before smiling at him and answering, “There is a piece of music that speaks to my heart, but it is not part of any opera.” You looked into his navy eyes. “I would like you to tell the director to allow me to sing it onstage.”

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More than anything, you wanted fresh air after your encounter with the ginger Black Prince, and then a long bath would be in order. Even though you had done nothing untoward, you felt slathered in the grime of his attention. The roof of the opera house towered above the streets below and offered a spectacular view of the City of Lights, especially at night, as it was now.

Rushing through the door onto the rooftop, you ran to the balustrade at the edge under the watchful stone eyes of the hulking gargoyles who perched upon the four corners of the rooftop. The crisp night air cleansed you as it blew through your hair and you breathed it into your lungs, making you feel instantly better.

“It is a rare woman who is at ease alone in the company of stone monsters,” the deep familiar voice sounded behind you, so close that you could feel the heat of his breath on the back of your neck. A cat walking on velvet couldn’t have approached you more silently.

“It seems that monsters are likewise at ease in my company, are they not?” you teased, looking back over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of the Phantom’s pale skin and ivory mask. Instead of responding to your question, the tall man leaned closer to you, so you continued, “Most people consider the gargoyles ugly. To me, they are beautiful. They are powerful and forever vigilant in their defense of their home, protecting those within.” 

Without having to turn to see his face, you knew a smile now turned the Phantom’s lips. Looking over your shoulder at the jewel that glittered with moonlight in the center of your chest, he growled, “Fancy trinket.”

“The Prince gave it to me earlier.” Your hand flew to cover the necklace from a rush of self-consciousness. “Or rather forced it upon me.”

“A lady with no title and no fortune of her own could do little better in life than by ensnaring a prince,” he told you as he trailed his thick fingers down the length of your arm. He wasn’t wearing gloves and his touch was warm and gentle. “Even I have heard rumors of the Black Prince, they reach down to the bowels of the opera house. He is said to be rich, coveted by many women.”

“Have you seen him?” you asked with a derisive snort. “All the money in the world could not make him attractive nor appealing to me. I could do better by perusing the docks for vagabonds and ruffians. At least their hands would not be more delicate than my own.”

“Few women, perhaps none other, would speak of a prince in such a way.” A grin could be heard on the Phantom’s rich voice. “From the time they are little girls, don’t all beautiful women want to marry a prince?”

“It is not the title that I find objectionable, but the man who holds it,” you said firmly. “Prince or Phantom, the title doesn’t make a man any more than a fancy dress makes a woman, wouldn’t you agree?” You leaned your back against his broad chest and felt it swell with a heavy breath. “What matters is what lies beneath the accoutrements and trappings, whether it is dresses or masks that we wear.”

“You’re a rare woman, indeed, and impressive far beyond your exquisite beauty,” the Phantom said huskily as his large hands came to rest on your hips.

You turned within his arms and faced him squarely for the first time, looking into his eyes that gleamed as fiery as those of a demon. He was wickedly handsome with a dark, dastardly edge to his features that make your pulse quicken. He appeared to be no older than forty with only a few lonely silver strands in the black forest of his luxurious hair. Nothing that his mask could be hiding could irreparably hamper his looks. You reached up to caress the smooth ivory mask, letting your fingers drop to its lower edge and the warm skin of his jaw beneath. 

“The mask is an improvement, I assure you, madame,” he said in a pained voice. He lifted his large hand to cover yours, and also to keep you from pulling off his mask.

“I’ll give you a choice, Sir Phantom.” You smirked defiantly. “Reveal either your face or your name to me.”

“And if I refuse?” he teased in return, the corner of his goatee twitching at the side of his plush lips in a smirk.

“You wouldn’t be here with me now if you intended to refuse me.” You cocked a challenging eyebrow at him, awaiting his answer.

“As clever as you are beautiful, I see.” The Phantom took your hand from his mask and placed it on his thick chest over his heart. “Kylo Ren, at your service, madame.”

“It suits you. An ordinary name would have been odd.” You pressed your body close to his, stroking your hand over his chest where he had placed it. “A Phantom with a heart that beats.”

“Perhaps you have rekindled it.” Leaning toward you, Kylo brought his lips to yours.

Your eyes fluttered closed when your lips met in a kiss that was so much softer than you had imagined it would be. He kissed you gently, his lips caressing yours eagerly but not persistently. It was you who parted your lips first, an invitation to deepen your kiss that he hungrily took. You collapsed against him, bracing your hand on his enormous chest, the heat of his tongue searing from your mouth down through your entire body. Something like a purr rumbled low in Kylo’s chest, as his lips moved against yours and his beard and mustache tickled your skin with the motion of his kiss.

When the Phantom took his leave from you that night, vanishing back into the shadows, leaving the ghost of his kiss wrought upon your lips, you wished that he had taken you with him, back to whatever dark shore from which he hailed.

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Two weeks passed before you had practiced the Phantom’s song enough to be pleased with your proficiency. Due to the Prince’s endorsement, Luke was eager to put you centerstage to perform your new solo for the opera’s grand finale. Ordinarily, you would have a rush of nerves when you sang a new piece for the first time in front of a crowd, but not tonight. As you stood alone in the halo of golden light on the wooden stage singing the Phantom’s song, each note blossomed from your lungs with a passion you had never felt before. You realized with sudden clarity that it was because each note reminded you of him, of your own dark specter.

Moments after you had begun singing, a shadow at the edge of the stage caught your eye. You had expected the Phantom to watch your opera, but you thought he would do so from further away; from one of his usual vantage points in the rafters or from the eves of a darkened booth. As your eyes fell upon his dark looming figure, he stepped out of the darkness and fully onto the stage in view of the sold-out opera house.

Standing on stage in a black ensemble as dark as his commanding presence, he seemed even larger than you knew him to be. He didn’t spare a glance out to the theater; his devilish eyes were fixed on you alone. You nearly gasped when you realized his intent was to join you centerstage, but you continued to sing each note faithfully.

The Phantom strode tall and proud to within a yard of you, his black cape with a scarlet lining swirling behind him. With a debonaire grin he held out his gloved right hand to you. Still singing, you placed your hand in his and felt the strength in his enormous body when he pulled you to him and into a dance. He spun with you as you sang his song, almost carrying you along with his powerful motions and you felt swallowed by his towering size and surrounded by his warmth.

Everyone watching was none the wiser, all thinking this dance was part of the opera instead of a sensual improvisation. Even when the Phantom cast propriety aside and brought your hand that he held to his lips, placing a hot lingering kiss to your knuckles. Following the lead of his steps, you trailed your hand down from his shoulder to rest on his large chest. His eyes burned into yours and it was fortunately timed that there was a pause in your song because you succumbed to the irresistible urge to pull him down by his peaked lapels and kiss him hard and deep.

With his body pressed against yours, the Phantom stepped a long leg beside you, dipping you backwards until your back was level with the bend in his knee. His huge hand at your back supported you firmly as he bent over you. He lowered his own body until the tip of his large nose skimmed your chest with the lightest touch, trailing from your sternum up your throat as he raised you from his dip, and returned to his full height. He truly was an astonishing dancer, his movements deceptively agile yet powerful.

The final true note of your solo rang from your lips as the Phantom brought you back upright, holding you in his arms against his chest as you sang for him alone, despite the crowd. The crowd roared with cheers and applause when you finished your song, and you stood smiling in the strong embrace you never wanted to leave.

“You sing with the enchantment of a siren,” the Phantom told you in a voice that was gravelly from exertion and desire. “That is surely what you are, for you have summoned me into your arms. Your song has called me home from being lost in the darkness for longer than I can remember, but when I look at you, I see only the brightest light.”

“When will you find me again?” you asked breathlessly as the curtain closed, knowing that he would soon vanish before anyone else could enter the stage.

“Do you think I ever truly leave you, madame?” He kissed you again before he tore himself away from you, melting back into the darkness.

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Cotton candy clouds floated across the cerulean sky on an afternoon that could have been the subject of a fine Monet as you strolled through the Tuileries Garden. It was your day off and you were in the mood to surround yourself with the beauty of the thousands of flowers of the Tuileries. You held a parasol to shade your skin from the setting sun, and also to shield your visage when unwanted eyes looked your way. You bent to inhale the scent of a pink blossom, aware of a pair of men with waxed mustaches who watched you from across the garden lane. 

“Beautiful, is it not?” came the voice you yearned to hear, resonating from behind you.

“And here I thought you were a creature of the night?” You turned to face him. Today, the Phantom was dressed entirely in black from his cloak to his hat, which was tipped rakishly down with a slant to his right. The mask he wore today was not ivory but black leather, matching his hair and attire.

“I am an admirer of beauty in all its forms. Lovely ladies, blooming flowers, lilting songs. Even Hades himself appreciated such beauty,” he told you with a slight nod that he managed to imbue with the gallantry of a medieval knight bowing to a noblewoman. “Does that surprise you?”

“Are you honestly asking me if I am surprised that the Phantom who haunts an opera house appreciates beautiful sights and sounds?” You cocked your head at him playfully. “Still, how do you expect to maintain your spectral air when you have drifted so far from your darkened corners?”

“Surely, you will keep my secret?” he teased you back with pleasant levity.

“How many secrets does a man like you have?” you tilted your chin up with your question, into a favorable angle for kissing.

“I have enough skeletons in my closet to form a battalion, I’m afraid.” He placed a delicate kiss on your cheek before purring, “But if you trust me, I shall reveal them all to you in time.” He kissed you properly then, with passion and warmth, pulling you flush against his powerful body.

Finally pulling away, Kylo placed your hand in the crook of his arm and led you casually through the gardens. Walking with you, his features drew surprisingly little attention. A beautiful lady at his side both served to vet him, and also to draw the eyes of onlookers who preferred to take in the sight of you over him.

“Would you walk with me through the darkness as you walk with me now through the gardens?” he asked you without meeting your eyes, keeping his gaze fixed ahead. “Could you love a man who must hide in the shadows? A man who can offer you so little? A man as monstrous as I am?”

“I take you for a man who is creative enough to conjure things more stimulating to do in the shadows than simply stroll through them.” You smirked at him and swore you saw a light blush on his exposed left cheek. “Whether walking or waltzing, I would be content to do either with you in the darkness. I see no deficit in what you can offer me. I would happily be your Persephone and bring light into your eternal night.”

“You do not find me monstrous?” he asked again.

“Not in any way that detracts from your allure,” you teased, squeezing his forearm where your hand rested. “Tell me some of your secrets?” you asked, watching the way his jaw clenched at your request. “Let us start simply and harmlessly, then. What is your favorite flower?”

“My favorite flower?” he mused with relief, pursing his full lips together in thought for a moment before a devilish glint flashed in his eyes. “My favorite flower is one with velvety petals and silky dew that blooms in the darkest hours of the night from a skillful touch.”

“I see.” You smiled through the heat on your cheeks. “And how many such flowers do you have in your garden?”

“I am wise enough to keep silent as to that question.” He winked at you playfully. “But I will tell you truthfully that I desire a garden with only one. The finest in the world, that blossoms for me alone. I shall prune any weeds in my garden accordingly when I find a truly exquisite blossom that surpasses all others.”

“Have you not yet found what you are looking for?” you asked, looking up at him with a coy smile.

“Where would you have me take you now?” Kylo punted without answering your question.

“Anywhere, as long as I’m with you,” you sighed, leaning against his shoulder as you strolled through the gardens.

“Be careful what you wish for, darling.” His voice was lower and his arm flexed under your hand. “Perhaps I will let you decide if you truly want to step into the darkness that is my underworld.”

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Even when you could not feel the Phantom’s presence enveloping you like an exotic perfume, he lingered with you still. He had carved a fixture in your waking thoughts, and he delighted you in your midnight dreams. Each day that passed without his company was longer than the last. It was on the eve of your next performance that your heart finally soared in hopeful anticipation.

Resting innocuously on the vanity in your dressing room was a folded note sealed with a bloody dollop of red wax. Your hands trembled with excitement as you opened it and read the simple note within. It contained a request for you to meet after your show the following evening. It was not signed, but it didn’t need to be.

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The note that had summoned you to a secret rendezvous was still clutched in your hand. The elegant script had bid you come to the rooftop of the opera house at the stroke of midnight. Surely, it had to be from your watchful specter. The prospect of seeing the Phantom for the second time outside of the shadows of the theater and its hidden alcoves excited you even more than when you stood on stage before a rising red curtain. Your heart hammed, trying to break free from the cage of your ribs as you imagined what your dark admirer would look like outside under the moonlight; how his hair would rustle on the wind, how his eyes would glimmer with starlight they captured from the heavens; how his warmth would comfort you against the midnight chill.

Far below the rooftop on which you stood, a lonely clocktower rang through the streets of Paris, sounding the stroke of midnight. You were alone, or so it appeared, seeing and hearing no one and nothing other than the tolling of the bells and the skirts of your dress moving as you walked. Standing at the balustrade, overlooking the lights of the city that shimmered like fireflies, you thought nothing of the silence. After all, you never heard the Phantom approach, but you knew that you would soon feel his presence drawing you in like the heat from a flame or hear his rich voice vibrating through the chambers of your heart.

The creak of the door to the rooftop opening startled you, resounding harshly in the serene night. Inhaling sharply, you jerked around to face the door with a half-measure of excitement, hoping to see Kylo’s dark towering figure, and with a half-measure of disappointment, knowing that the Phantom would never make such a garish entry.

With a disappointed sigh, you recognized the slender gangly figure of the Black Prince, who stepped out onto the roof. He wore his usual tailored finery and pinched expression. To his credit, he made an attempt at a smile when his eyes landed on you, but his pallid features seemed only capable of forming a sneer. He rushed to you with all the grace of a flustered goose, his cloak flapping about him like flailing wings.

“You look more beautiful every time I see you,” the Prince crooned as he closed the distance between you. “It pleases me greatly that you came to meet me as I requested in my letter.”

“Your letter?” you asked, unable to hide the regret in your voice. Holding your hands out to meet the Prince, you kept him from coming closer than arm’s length. “I was unsure who had written me.”

“Who else could it possibly be from?” he asked with a note of irritation, before waving his hand dismissively at the thought that anyone could capture your attention other than himself.

Unbeknownst to you, the mysterious man you had hoped to find was indeed on the rooftop with you. Lurking in the shadow of a stone gargoyle, the Phantom had watched you stand at the balustrade, admiring you in the moonlight while you were at ease and devoid of self-conscious affectation. The sight of your beauty formed a knot in his throat that he tried to swallow down, sure that you could hear the sound of his heavy breath and pounding heart. Nothing Kylo had ever encountered, no foe or fright, had ever affected him so. He wanted to rush to you, take you in his arms, and kiss you until you were just as breathless as he, but he knew that he could take no such action. You deserved better than a demonic monstrosity emerging from his rightful place in the shadows to spoil your evening.

Kylo watched you still. He watched as the Prince tried to take you in his arms, and he watched as you pushed him back. Kylo’s blood boiled, his teeth ground, and his fists clenched at his sides. It would be easy for him to overpower the Prince, if needed. To kill him, even, with a crushing blow of his fist that would knock the frail redhead over the rooftop railing to plummet to his death on the cobblestones far below.

However, the Prince seemed more interested in talking to you than pressing a more amorous agenda, and Kylo was content to listen.

“I have followed your rise to stardom,” the Prince told you after you rebuffed his attempted kiss. “I have never been so smitten by anyone, nor did I even think it possible that I could feel with such a depth of emotion.”

“I wish you would say no more,” you offered quietly, trying to stop his further unwanted advances.

“I did not summon you here tonight idly,” Prince Armitage told you seriously. “I have something of great importance to ask you.” The Prince reached out and grabbed your hands before you could flee further away from him. “Marry me, my beautiful songbird. Marry me and become my Princess and rule at my side.”

“I –” you stammered for only a moment before your wits returned. “I am very flattered, Prince, but I’m afraid I must decline. I cannot marry you.”

From his dark vantage, Kylo watched intently, clinging to your every word like a climber scaling the Matterhorn in a maelstrom.

“What do you mean, you cannot marry me?” Prince Armitage asked incredulously, incapable of believing such a thing. His grip tightened on your hands. “Of course, you bloody well can!” He looked at you more sternly and spoke again as though he were addressing a simpleton, “Did you not understand me? I, Prince Armitage Hux, am asking you to marry me, to be my Princess.”

“Repeat your question a hundred times and I shall decline it just as many,” you told him with equal vehemence. “I am not your songbird, and I shall never be your Princess nor your wife.”

“I understand that a lady must not be over-eager; that she must act coy and appear aloof to enhance her appeal to suitors,” the Prince continued undaunted. “So, I will forgive your rebuff and I will renew my offer again. You must know that the woman I take for my bride will live the rest of her life in unimaginable wealth and opulence. Every woman seeks my hand, and I offer it to you now. Marry me.”

“Since so many women covet the position of your wife, you will not lament my refusal.” You yanked your hands free from his grip. “When I marry, it will not be for wealth and opulence, it will be for love alone. I do not love you, and I shall never marry you.”

A feral anger crossed Hux’s features, unused as he was to being denied anything and everything he wanted. He lunged toward you, making a grab for you again, but his movement was clumsy. You dodged his grasping hands and in the same motion, you swiftly drew a dagger from under the bottom edge of your corseted bodice. The loyal little blade had served you more than once in stopping unwanted advances from eager men. You whipped the dagger up to point dangerously at the Prince’s throat. Your eyes gleamed ferociously as they bore into his and your hand didn’t tremble.

Kylo had been a heartbeat away from charging Prince Armitage and showing the ginger all the ways in which Kylo was every bit the monster of legend. Seeing you halt the Prince’s advances with the tip of your dagger under his chin, Kylo stopped himself. Despite the pain he felt at watching another man profess his love to you, Kylo grinned with wicked delight at the sight of your fierce denial. If Kylo hadn’t loved you with every beat of his black heart before, he knew now that it would forever beat for you alone.

Less like an angel and more like a warrior Valkyrie, you backed the Prince away from you with the tip of your dagger as the Phantom watched on. Your gown swirled around you as you turned and darted quickly away through the doorway, leaving a stunned Prince and a besotted Phantom out on the rooftop in the cool midnight air.

*******************************************************************************************

In celebration of the extraordinary success of the opera, due almost entirely to your ethereal voice paired with the Phantom’s brilliant sonnet, the director planned a befittingly grand celebration. Luke chomped at the bit at almost any opportunity to host an event in his opera house. He was almost as giddy by the prospect as young women were to have an excuse to dress prettily and attend. Of course, foremost behind Luke’s motivation was a chance to further enamor the Black Prince with the star of the opera, which would hopefully lead to more money finding its way through the theater doors as a result.

The event was not to be just any soiree. Allegedly pursuant to a request made by the Black Prince himself, a masquerade ball was to be held in the opera house, beckoning forth the crème de la crème of Parisian elite. You couldn’t argue that Prince Armitage Hux’s appearance could only be improved with the help of a mask, much the same as you suspected that the Phantom’s allure could only be enhanced by removing his.

Just as you commanded attention onstage, you drew every eye in the opera house when you arrived at the masquerade ball. Dressed in a regal crimson gown that hugged and perfectly accentuated your curves paired with a black lace mask, you were stunning to behold. You hoped more eyes watched you than those you could see amid the light and glitter of the ball, that a pair of lupine eyes admired you from somewhere in the shadows.

Happy couples danced around you to the harmonic notes with which the string quartet filled the air. The women wore gowns, the men wore tailcoats, and everyone wore an opulent mask. Legions of phantoms could lurk openly tonight, hiding in plain sight at the masquerade ball. You searched the swarm of guests, but you didn’t see the towering figure you would recognize anywhere or the wickedly vibrant eyes you knew so well gleaming from behind any mask. A few nameless men approached you but you politely declined and slipped easily through the crowd to vanish from their advances. Your scouting soon brought the presence of the Black Prince to your attention. He was easily spotted; his orange hair and pasty complexion could not be hidden by the gold mask he wore. You wanted to avoid his attention more than any other. Keeping your eyes on him for the moment, you backed away toward the edge of the room.

“I would prefer to dance with you to the music of the night,” the Phantom’s husky voice boomed right behind you. You had almost backed into his chest and when you turned to face him, you found your bodies nearly touching.

“Here? In front of so many people?” you teased him warmly. “You would cause quite a sensation! I hope you could give an encore performance, because it would certainly be demanded.”

“I savor every sensation, darling,” Kylo promised you richly with a wicked grin on his lips. “And I will spend as many hours a night as you wish giving you encore after encore.”

You smiled and sighed voluptuously, letting him take you in his arms and twirl you into a dance. He was again dressed almost entirely in black, save for the scarlet lining of his cape and the matching ascot that was knotted elegantly at his throat, but tonight, he wore a white shirt that you could see peeking out just above his tie. His masquerade mask was blood red and covered only the right side of his face, as was his custom, with a pointed horn at the top that parted his thick hair around it. He made a sinfully handsome devil, indeed.

Only moments after Kylo had begun dancing with you, the pair of you had drawn the attention of many guests. They all recognized the unmistakable physique and formidable skill of the man who had been your stage partner during your now infamous solo. While many watched Kylo dance with you in his menacingly elegant manner, no one else knew the Phantom’s true identity. Neither did you for that matter, not in the fullest sense, but it hardly mattered.

“You must do quite a lot of dancing in your den under the opera house,” you teased as he led you in sweeping, agile motions.

“You’d be surprised,” he responded with a grin.

The Black Prince was among the onlookers who watched the mysterious man swirl you in his dance like a black spider coiling you in his nefarious web. The Prince sipped his champagne as he looked on with a venomous glare. As you had observed, Hux was an intelligent and calculating man, and he knew better than to hazard a confrontation with the fearsome man who held you in his arms.

Tonight, it was not your Phantom who watched you from the shadows, but another pair of eyes, beady and calculating. Luke’s narrowed eyes followed your every movement as the tall black-clad devil danced with you like you already belonged to him. Luke seethed at the outrage! How dare this stranger, this nobody, come into his opera house and steal his leading lady?! Luke’s ire was not stoked by the way you looked up at the Phantom with the brightest smile he had ever seen on your lips, nor even by the way the dark man held you too close and regarded you too desirously. It was rather in the way that the Black Prince looked on at the pair of you from his place in the fringes, lost and forgotten. The Black Prince wasn’t just a suitor for you, he was Luke’s way to fame and fortune in measures that his greasy little mind could scarcely fathom. And now, right before his very eyes, this man, this Phantom, was stealing that away from him.

Luke saw darkness looming on his horizon that heretofore had been nothing but clear skies and dollar signs, and knew he had to act to prevent this travesty from occurring. Not only for himself, of course. He had to protect you from yourself, he reasoned. You were young and foolish, impetuous, and too headstrong for your own good. You would be much happier with the Prince and his wealth. You would learn to love him, and you would be better for it.

No one in attendance at the ball noticed when Luke slipped quietly away, least of all you or Kylo Ren.

As you danced on, the novelty of the sight of you and your ominous partner faded, and the room resumed its pompous swagger. When you were no longer the centerpiece of the masquerade, Kylo brought his lips to yours, kissing you slow and deep. When he drew back, he looked at you with a longing you had never seen in his eyes.

“The Black Prince would marry you, if you would have him,” he told you, as if you didn’t know this fact already.

“And if I were to have a guardian angel, even one who masquerades as a Phantom of the night, to whisper in my ear?” You ran your hand over his chest where his heart beat beneath. “What advice would he give me?”

“To do as your heart commands you, madame.” Kylo held your eyes intently. “To follow your heart’s deepest and darkest desires. Those who restrain their desires do so only because they are weak enough to be restrained.”

“The desires of my heart shall never be restrained.” You looked up at him through your eyelashes with a tantalizing smile. “They may very well be as dark as the shadows from which you hail.”

“I commend your brave spirit for not being frightened by the darkness or by the creatures that dwell in it, such as myself. But I assure you, I am a monster, madame.” Even as he berated himself, he kissed you again. “Beneath my mask, I am monstrous. I am ill-suited to stand beside beauty such as yours.”

“Take the mask off now so I can show you that your only failing is your foolishness at believing such a ridiculous notion.” You reached your hand to the edge of his mask for the second time in your acquaintance, and this time Kylo didn’t move to stop you.

You were certain Kylo held his breath as you removed the mask from his face. A long ragged scar split the right side of the Phantom’s face. Your eyes followed it, from its origin above his arched eyebrow as it trailed down his cheek and jaw, down his thick neck to disappear beneath his collar. A closer study of his features revealed other small scars, and another angry raised scar on his jaw that was nearly hidden in the dark thatch of his goatee. Just as you had suspected, the scar only added to his villainous appeal. After all, each scar was evidence of him triumphing over violence and hardship.

“Scarred or not, you are the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes upon,” you said appreciatively as you caressed his scarred cheek with your fingertips. Kylo leaned into your touch, his eyes falling closed, like a great cat wanting to be petted. “But the scar makes you eminently more dashing.”

“I have nothing to offer you, no castle or fortune. Only the monster that I am,” Kylo purred, his eyes burning into yours. “I am yours, if you want me.”

“You know I do,” you replied happily as you looped your arms around his neck and kissed him hard. Kylo wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you off your feet without breaking your kiss, twirling with you in his arms, his love for you on full display for anyone who cared to look.

“You’ve been onstage many times, but have you ever watched it from on high?” Kylo asked you when he returned you to the floor. He let his eyes drop to your cleavage with a teasing smirk. “The view from above can be rather lovely.”

You shook your head at him, but allowed him to take your hand and lead you through the masked crowd. He took you up the steps at the side of the stage, finding a few other amorous couples who had likewise stolen away. Every light and candle in the opera house was lit for the celebration and the gas lamps that lined the edge of the stage were flickering golden. Above the seats in the theater, the gargantuan and pendulous chandelier hung from the domed ceiling, hundreds of pounds of crystal and candlelight suspended by a decade’s old cable. Kylo led you across the stage and through the vacant backstage walkways.

A set of narrow wooden stairs led up to the rafters. This is where stagehands would work their own magic to create the effects of the show while performers sang and danced on stage. Kylo led you onto a narrow catwalk with a wooden railing that hung suspended high above the theater. It creaked with your every step and was made to accommodate the breadth of one average man. Kylo had to turn mostly sideways to walk along it with you beside him. There were thick ropes and pulleys, props and effects, weights and counterbalances used to raise and lower heavier objects. It was darker up in the rafters, above the level of the raised velvet curtain. But below you, the theater glowed with glimmering firelight from every lighted candle and gas lamp.

From the end of the catwalk was a vantage that overlooked the entire theater through a gap in the curtain that you suspected was of Kylo’s own doing. You could see the stage beneath you, the red seats of the theater sprawling out away from you, and the mighty chandelier hanging high above it all. As you watched the droves of partygoers milling below you, Kylo stood behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He dropped his head to kiss your neck and tease his goatee across your skin, raising a rash of goosebumps across your shoulders and down your spine. His enormous right hand reached up across the front of your body to the opposite side of your neck from his lips, holding you possessively as he claimed you with his kisses and bites.

The world around you blurred into faint notes of music and a dreamy haze as you became lost in the dizzying pleasure Kylo gave you with every caress of his lips and squeeze of his strong hands. You whined for more and writhed against him when his lips grew still and his body stiffened behind you, until you realized that his attention was no longer focused on you. Without warning, he shoved you roughly away from him, sending you stumbling down the catwalk.

Frowning with anger and confusion, you looked back at him and saw why.

Out from the darkness behind Kylo, a rope shot out over his head and looped around his neck as fast as a wrangler roping a stray bull, tightening instantly into a deadly noose. Kylo was yanked backward toward his attacker, a growl catching in his throat under the knotted rope. But Kylo was less like a bull in a lariat than a wolf in a collar, and he turned viciously on his assailant as the man foolishly pulled Kylo back into him. Before the man could tighten the noose enough for the killing stroke, Kylo punched his open hand into the man’s throat. Clenching his windpipe in an iron grip, Kylo ripped his hand to the side with a menacing snarl, tearing the man’s windpipe apart with his bare hand, sending blood pluming from the man’s throat almost elegantly. When Kylo turned back to face you as the man’s body toppled over the catwalk and down to splatter on the stage below, Kylo’s handsome face was a rictus of ferocity. You had never seen a visage so murderous and could not have imagined a demon springing forth from Hell itself to be consumed by such savagery.

Some of the crowd had noticed the man who fell from the catwalk and now watched with curiosity and concern. Others were blissfully unaware and danced on.

“Get down!” Kylo barked at you in a voice that was jagged from his bruised windpipe.

You followed his command without thinking just as a shot rang out from behind you at the far end of the catwalk. Sparks flew next to Kylo’s head where the bullet struck a metal cable, and the catwalk canted precariously as the same cable snapped that had helped suspend the catwalk from the rafters above. Your hand flew to the railing to keep yourself from being flung over the side as the platform bucked wildly beneath your feet.

Growling like a wild animal, Kylo lunged past you toward the gunman, who had also lost his balance and cartwheeled his arms in an attempt to regain it. His eyes widened as he saw death boring down upon him with Kylo Ren as its harbinger. Kylo didn’t need to employ any fancy maneuvers on the off-balanced gunman. Without slowing his charge, Kylo ducked his head and shoved his shoulder roughly into the man’s solar plexus, Kylo knocked him off the slanted catwalk, sending his body flying into midair out over the stage. The gunman’s fearful shout ended abruptly with the solid thwack of a slab of meat being slammed down onto a cutting board when he hit the floor.

The gunman’s body landed on the row of gas lamps that lined the stage. The lamps burst below his body, catching his clothing instantly aflame with the lamp oil. Now, everyone in the masquerade turned their attention to the stage that had erupted into gunshots, screams, and flames. A frightful chorus of shrieks and shouts resounded through the crowd. Like a single-minded herd of frightened livestock, the crowd ran for the exit, becoming a stampede of vibrantly colored bodies.

The gunman wasn’t dead yet, but was fast succumbing to his injuries and the flames that licked over his body to crawl up the drawn velvet curtain at the side of the stage. Glaring up at Kylo on the broken catwalk, the gunman feebly raised his pistol again. His hand shook uncontrollably as he yanked the trigger, sending an errant bullet somewhere high into the rafters, feet above Kylo’s head. As the man’s arm dropped in an arc back toward the floor, he squeezed off a final shot. This bullet found a mark, although it was not in Kylo’s body.

The round struck the center of the cable that held the chandelier monstrosity suspended above the panicking crowd. At first, there was nothing but a small rustle of crystals, like fairy dust sprinkling from the ceiling. Then, one metal thread of the cable unwound, followed by another, and another. With a snap that resounded through the theater as loud as the felling of a tree, half of the remaining cable tore apart and the chandelier lurched on its tether and began to swing as deadly as a glittering guillotine.  

You watched in macabre fascination as the chandelier swung like a thurible at mass, while smoke from rampant fires rose in tendrils to the ceiling. Worst of all was the crowd below, running with feral abandon toward the single exit at the head of the theater. When a person tripped and fell, they were swallowed by the stampede like a stone thrown into the ocean.

Kylo was likewise mesmerized by the horror that filled the theater, and he watched it unfold for a heartbeat too long.

Kylo rushed to you, but it was another man who reached you first. A harsh bony hand grabbed your arm from behind, yanking you back toward an unseen assailant, but then a voice you knew well spoke near your ear.

“Walk away, Phantom,” Luke hissed as he used your body as a human shield between himself and Kylo. You feel the cool touch of a gun barrel at your back. “That’s all you have to do, just walk away. Leave the girl to the Prince and leave my opera to me.”

“Leave the girl to the Prince?” Kylo snarled so ominously that you felt Luke’s hand on you tremble. Kylo advanced a step toward you with hunched shoulders and clenched fists, ready to launch a devastating attack. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.” A terrible grin curled his lips. “It will be my pleasure to educate you.”

Looking around quickly, you saw a coil of rope used to hoist props looped around one of the posts of the railing. You knew that Kylo would rush Luke at any moment like death himself and end him with the cruelest stroke. But why should Kylo have that privilege all to himself?

Luke was focused solely on Kylo’s enraged eyes, sparing you no mind at all. Twisting in his grip, you knocked the gun aside and slammed your fist backhanded into his crotch, hitting the small flaccid target with all the force you could command. Luke released his hold on you, doubling over in pain with a retching gag. Kylo instantly charged at the man as you snatched the coil of rope. Before Kylo reached Luke, you looped the rope around Luke’s bowed neck and cinched it tight. Then Kylo was at your side. His huge hand covered yours, his fist squeezing your own tight around the rope, and he yanked the knot tight around Luke’s throat. You felt Luke sputter as his eyes blew wide in shock and pain. He tried to swing his gun back to Kylo, but Kylo caught his hand easily and ripped the gun out of his grip.  

With your left hand on Luke’s chest and Kylo’s right planted beside yours, you both shoved Luke roughly over the catwalk. He hit the end of the rope only a few feet above the stage, his neck breaking with the sound of stepping on chicken bones, killing him instantly. Kylo grinned down at the swinging corpse of the man who had made the grave mistake of attacking you.

Smoke swirled around your heads and the sound of panic and death rang loud in the acoustics of the theater. Around the despairing opera house, fire now snaked up the large curtain that framed the stage. The gas lamps had all ruptured from the heat of the fire around them, and now formed a ring of fire around the edge of the stage. Even as you watched, the flames leapt from the stage out onto the first row of velvet-cushioned chairs.

High above you, the final heroic cord of the chandelier’s cable snapped with the crack of a bullwhip, sending the elephantine crystal ball shattering down upon the horde of scrambling bodies beneath it. The chandelier hit in an explosion of fiery candles, crystal shrapnel, and hellish screams. Fueled by the death from above, the theater was consumed by even greater chaos. Women shoved each other aside and men punched each other away, both in vain attempts to reach the exit.

“I’d say we’ve dallied long enough, darling.” Kylo took your hand, his grip strong and warm, and ran with you back across the crippled catwalk. The catwalk swayed in the air and bucked beneath your feet, shuddering with your every step and threatening to send you both plummeting down to the stage below. But Kylo’s balance was sure, and he pulled you with him to safety and back down the stairs.

When you reached the stage, the flames that danced on its edge were now taller than Kylo. They encroached upon the center of the stage, using the body of the gunman as a bridge across the smooth wooden floor. They lapped at Luke’s feet and crept up his pant leg where his body dangled, swaying on his tether.

Kylo knew the stage as well as you, and he ran straight to the trap door in its very center. This was used to elevate props and to likewise make them disappear during performances. Dropping to a knee beside it, he yanked the trap door open and lowered you safely inside. Following you down through the hatch, Kylo closed it behind and you both vanished from the theater like the ghosts who haunted it.

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Deep under the opera house, you were safe from the flames that ravaged the great theater above. Deeper still, in the maze of stone corridors Kylo led you through, the screams of those unlucky masqueraders still trapped inside were finally lost to your ears. It was a tragedy, but one that had been precipitated by the avarice of the theater’s director. You were lucky to have a man as strong and ferocious as Kylo to protect you and steal you away from a fiery death. Holding a torch aloft in his right hand, Kylo gripped your hand tight with his left and held you close to his side, imbuing you with his strength, as he led you toward a destination known only to him. 

The culmination of this underground labyrinth was a grand chamber with a high vaulted ceiling. You wondered vaguely at its purpose, but whether it was constructed for reasons of ordinary structural benefit or for something sinister, such as the meeting place for a secret occult society, is a question you would not have answered that evening. Regardless of its true purpose, the chamber had been commandeered by the Phantom and transformed into a darkly lavish bedchamber of sorts. 

Flickering golden light emanating from hundreds of candles illuminated the chamber. The dancing hue of firelight made the tall gold pipes of an organ glow and you saw sheets of music placed on the large instrument. You wondered if this was the place where Kylo had composed his masterpiece solo for you. 

Centered in the room was an enormous bed that looked as though it was a repurposed sculpture of an open clamshell that would have been fitting for Venus herself to lie upon. The bedding and draped curtains behind it were scarlet red that paired perfectly with the gild and gold throughout the chamber. 

While your eyes feasted on every detail and nuance of the room, Kylo walked to the organ. He made quick work of undoing the buttons on his waistcoat as he walked. Shrugging his jacket away from his broad shoulders and following with his waistcoat, he draped both over the back of the leather chair that sat before the instrument. When he turned back to you, he wore only his black trousers and his white shirt was open to reveal the thick cleft in his massive chest. 

Holding your gaze intently with eyes that were more ravenous than any you had seen, he closed the distance between you until you could feel his heat and smell the masculine lust radiating off his large body. Smiling up at him, you invited him to take your lips. He kissed you deep and slow, taking his time as he relished in the feeling of your lips. A taste of the passion to come. 

“You saved my life,” you whispered into his mouth. “I’m yours, Kylo. Yours to take. Yours to possess. Yours to keep forever.” 

“I have been yours since the moment I first laid eyes upon you, my love,” he told you huskily, grinning against your lips before kissing you deeply again. 

Your movements were more urgent when you reached to unbutton his shirt and push it away from his body. Breaking your kiss once he was freed from his shirt, you stared at the magnificent expanse of his chest and shoulders. Your hands ran across the dense planes and ridges of muscle, feeling it firm as marble under your touch. His pale skin was beautifully decorated with a spattering of scars that your fingers traced and caressed. You gave special attention to the scar he had kept hidden from you for so long. Starting at his cheek, you kissed the length of his largest scar down to his jaw, down the thick cords of his neck, and then down to where it crossed over his collarbone and on down his chest. 

Kylo groaned with desire when you kissed over his skin, and he growled when your hand skimmed down his body to palm the intimidatingly large bulge through the fabric of his trousers. Once you clumsily worked his pants open, your hand dipped eagerly inside to feel his hot heavy cock, unable to connect your fingers around his girth. 

Moving around to your back, Kylo brushed your hair aside, leaning down to inhale the fragrance of your locks before attaching his lips to the delicate skin of your neck, teasing your flesh as he carefully unlaced your dress and undergarments. 

Warm strong hands and long thick fingers caressed you as he pushed your dress down your body and away from you to pool at your feet. Your back arched when his fingers trailed back up your thighs. Pressing your shoulders back against his broad chest, you felt it expand impossibly further as he breathed in your scent, pressing his large nose against your neck behind your jaw while he continued to kiss and lick at your skin. Hot breath and plush lips contrasted with the sharp sensation of his teeth as gentle bites now mingled with the wet kisses he littered along the junction of your neck and shoulder. 

Kylo’s left hand smoothed up the front of your body to your breast, teasing your nipple between his thumb and finger. Once you were peaked, he accomplished both squeezing your breast and rubbing his calloused palm across your nipple in one sensual repetitive motion. The fingers of his right hand reached the top of your thigh, moving between them to skim the outside of your pussy, smearing the slick that had already collected there as his lips returned to your ear. 

“You’re already dripping for me, darling.” His deep voice thrummed through you down to pool in your abdomen. You inhaled sharply when he slowly pushed two digits into you, spreading you open around his girthy fingers as they curled inside of you. 

Moaning in pleasure, you dropped your head back onto Kylo’s shoulder as his thick fingers rubbed against your perfect hidden places. Kylo’s mouth found your pulse point as he kissed and sucked at your neck. He could feel your pulse quicken under his lips as he pumped his fingers into your pussy. His cock pressed against your ass through his pants, throbbing eagerly for you. 

Withdrawing his fingers from you, Kylo turned you to face him. His gaze raked your body hungrily, admiring every curve of your figure. With a coy smile on your lips, you backed toward the bed. Kylo paused only long enough to shove his pants down his muscular thighs. Your breath caught at the sight of his giant cock swinging free from its confines. The ridge running the long length of its underside swelled prominently like the veins that snaked its girth, its fat velvety tip aimed at you. 

A proud smile turned his lips at your awed expression as he again closed the distance between your bodies. Falling back onto the bed, your body bounced slightly on the bedding. Bending over you, he took a lingering moment to admire the sight of you, laid bare beneath him. His cock twitched and throbbed as his gaze fell to your pussy, glistening in the candlelight and flushed with your heightened arousal, a flower blooming for him alone. 

“I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you,” Kylo groaned as he lowered himself over you, planting his hands on either side of your waist. “No one has ever compared to you.” 

Dropping his head, he brought his lips to your breast. Lingering on your nipple, his tongue swirled around its peak while he sucked it lightly. His mouth then moved slowly down your body, trailing wet kisses as he traveled lower. 

Pausing to grin up at you and meet your eyes, he placed a hot wet kiss to the top of your pussy. Your legs trembled as he lifted them over his shoulders. Lowering himself further, he parted your folds with a swipe of his aquiline nose, leaving its tip to rest against your clit as he kissed at your lips. The feeling of Kylo’s tongue when he licked into you was superior to any sensation you had ever felt. The feeling of pure bliss he elicited so easily with the strokes of his tongue along your folds and his voice groaning into you with pleasure was like nothing you had ever experienced. 

You were too enraptured to do anything but moan Kylo’s name. Your hands quickly found themselves tangled in his thick mane as your hips bucked subtly against his face of their own accord. Your Phantom’s amber eyes held yours in a burning gaze as he licked as deeply into you as he could, his eyes only briefly falling closed when he savored the taste of you. Merely the sight alone, of this dangerous and powerful man with his handsomely scarred face between your thighs, was almost enough to push you over the precipice. 

The gravity of pleasure was beginning to pull you over the edge when he brought his tongue to trace his name across your clit, before sucking it between his lips. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream when he sucked at you heavily enough to hollow his cheeks. You moaned loudly, as you felt yourself plunging into a chasm of ecstasy, fisting his hair roughly as you fell. A rush of heat flooded you, as you came on Kylo’s hungry lips and ardent tongue. He kissed and licked you ravenously as you pulsed and gushed, extending your pleasure as long as he could until your quivering subsided. 

Lifting his mouth from your throbbing pussy, Kylo kissed at your inner thigh as he looked up at you, smiling proudly. Even your thighs trembled with residual pleasure on either side of his face from the force of your orgasm. With an eager growl, he raised himself to crawl back up your body. You felt boneless as he moved over you, caging you inside his finely muscled arms. Your hands fell away from his hair, one holding his neck as an anchor, the other falling limp above your head. 

Lowering himself over you, Kylo’s lips met yours, his jaw working passionately as he smeared his adoration against your lips. You felt more than heard a low growl rumble through his chest, reverberating through your entire body, as his massive cock sank into you. Even relaxed and dripping with arousal, the stretch of him was intense. You moaned as he filled you with every long thick inch until his hips were flush with you, your pussy just the perfect fit for him. 

“Your pussy feels so fucking good,” Kylo groaned. “So tight on my cock.” 

The feel of your body made Kylo shudder with pleasure as he thrust his cock into you. You felt his muscles tensing beneath your hand at the feeling of being surrounded by your silken heat. Kylo bent to kiss you sweetly before his hips began rocking at first and then pounding into you, each thrust shoving you further into the mattress beneath him. Kylo knew exactly how to elicit more pleasure from you, exactly how to angle his cock to hit the best spots inside of you with every slam of his hips. He withdrew nearly his full length with every thrust, pounding back into you with a force that made you shiver with his every movement. You could feel every ridge on his cock drag and rub against your stretched walls, sending blissful sparks shooting through your body with each heavy thrust. 

Soon, your breath was coming in gasps as your pussy tightened around his perfect cock. Only a few more pumps of his cock were needed to spring the coil that had tightened almost painfully in your core. With each thrust, your pussy tried to suck him in further as he drove himself as deep inside of you as he could reach and as deep as you could possibly take. 

“Cum for me,” Kylo growled deep and rich as he pounded into you. “I want to feel my darling cum all over my cock.” 

At his command, you came a second time in heady waves of pleasure. An incoherent whine escaped your lips, while your pussy clenched around his thick cock in time with the pulses of your ecstasy. 

Kylo’s head fell back, pointing toward the ceiling like a wolf howling at the moon. Groaning deep and wholly lost in pleasure of his own, he fucked your tightened pussy through your orgasm. His eyes were wild with lust when he returned his gaze to you, his lips turned into a feral grin. Baring his teeth as he looked down upon you, his hair fell in jostling waves around his beautifully menacing visage. 

Fucking into you more roughly, he chased his own pleasure. He propped both hands on either side of your head to keep from crushing you beneath his powerful body with the force of his motions. Kylo’s arms began to tremble, as his cock throbbed inside of you. A thunderous growl tore through his chest and out of his throat when he came. You could feel his heat spreading into you as he pumped you full, grinding his cock as deep into you as he possibly could. 

He kissed and licked along the side of your neck and throat as his cock softened inside of you. Holding you tight beneath his heavy body, he kissed you for several long minutes, not wanting to separate your bodies. Caressing you with his lips, he silently praised and soothed you when he finally lifted himself from above you, kissing his way down your neck. His mouth was hot and open when he reached your collarbone, leaving kisses along it as he withdrew from you. 

Rolling onto his back, Kylo pulled you with him onto his chest, his arms wrapping around you to hold you tight against him. His lips grazed your hair as he inhaled the heavenly scent trapped in your waves. As you lay, held in Kylo’s warm iron embrace, your head rising and falling with his chest as his breath steadied beneath you, you could scarcely believe your present happiness. 

“Are you prepared to give me an encore? I told you I would demand one of you,” you said breathily as you raised your head from his chest and propped yourself up beside him, tracing a pattern on his skin with your fingernails. Kylo’s large hand stroked your back gently as he looked up at you with a pleasured smile. 

“I will give you an encore every night you desire it. Will you come away with me, my darling?” Kylo asked, smiling up at you. His eyes glimmered in the candlelight, shining with reverence as he regarded you lovingly. “Will you marry me even though I have nothing to offer you? I have only my heart to give you.” 

“It sounds very much like you have everything to offer me. I want your heart to beat for me alone and your arms to hold me tight,” you vowed. “Of course, I will marry you and follow you anywhere.” 

He tightened his arms around and held you hard as he continued, his voice softer, “What of the Prince’s proposal?” 

“I would rather be burned at the stake than have him touch me,” you assured him vehemently. “The feeling of my skin peeling away under a flame could not be a worse fate than feeling his hands on me.” 

Kylo grinned handsomely at your words, looking up at you with shining adoration. “I would not have faulted you in the slightest, but still, I was relieved that you didn’t kill him that night on the rooftop. Hux has been my faithful servant for decades.” 

You looked at him curiously, his words slow to sink in through the haze of your afterglow. 

“Hux played his role well as the Black Prince, just as I played mine as the Phantom,” Kylo said triumphantly, his chest swelling with pride. “The Phantom of the Opera was a rather convenient legend to exploit in order to grow close to you and learn the true nature of your character and your heart.” 

“What are you saying?” you looked at him incredulously now, your eyebrows climbing up your forehead. 

“You would marry me even though I could offer you nothing? That makes me happier than I have the words to express, and I would never have you for my wife if you had said otherwise.” Kylo’s smile widened and his eyes gleamed with passion. “But I wonder, my beautiful darling, would you marry me if I could offer you everything? If I could give you the world and all the stars in the night sky?” He raised his head to kiss you again before continuing, “Would you marry me if I was not a scavenging Phantom pauper, but a Prince?” 

“You’re not serious?” you asked in a small voice filled with awe and hope. “You can’t be serious.” 

“I am hunted by women for my money and title just as you are hounded by men for your beauty and spirit. I had to be certain you wanted me for who I am, not for what I could buy you.” Kylo shrugged beneath you in a rakish nonchalant way. “That being said, I happen to be able to buy you anything you have ever wanted.” 

You could only stare at him for a moment before a wide shining smile broke upon your lips. 

“Kylo Ren, the Black Prince of Alderaan, at your service, madame.” He gave you a dashing smile. “And you, darling, shall be my beloved Princess. The Persephone to my Hades, who will bring spring to my winter and fill my world with blossoms and beauty throughout this life and the next.” 

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© safarigirlsp 2022