In My Darkness: La Chatte Noire

Chapter Twenty-Five: Anger and Irritation

Chapter Twenty-Five: Anger and Irritation

Camillé opened her eyes and smiled, snuggling into the warmth of Erik beside her. His grip around her waist tightened and she looked up at him, seeing his eyes open and a gentle smile on his face.

"Bonjour, ma chatte," he whispered, kissing her forehead.

She hummed contentedly. Erik pulled his arm from her waist and sat up, causing her arm to fall to the bed. One of her eyes opened and she sighed before kneeling behind him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. His right hand rested on her clasped hands in front of him and he kissed the inside of one of her arms. Another humming came from her as he patted her arms as a signal to let him go. She did so, sliding one of her hands down to intertwine with his as both of them stood and stepped off of the bed. He brought her hand up and kissed her knuckles before releasing it and walked out of the room. The silent gesture made her smile as she walked to her wardrobe and debated before putting on a simple shift for the day. They weren't going anywhere.

Camillé stepped slowly down the stairs and back up them, coming up behind Erik where he was composing on his organ, the familiar sound ringing throughout the cavern. She placed her hands on his shoulders and rubbed slightly, hearing the slightly melancholy sound of the music. He stopped, taking a hold of one hand and kissing it lightly. Ayesha was sitting atop the organ and batted at the other hand, the note adding to the reverberations of the others. Both of her humans laughed, and Erik stood from his organ bench. The two walked back to the swan bedroom and began cleaning up the clothing that littered the floor. Camillé bent over and picked up his ascot, twirling it around her fingers slowly as she picked up his waistcoat.

As she stood, she looked down at the floor. "I apologize for my conduct last night, that was… very uncouth of me," she muttered, and a finger under her chin raised her head.

Erik smiled at her. "There is no need to apologize. Were it not for my hesitation… well, I believe you know better than I. Though… I must ask; how is it that you know so well the art of…" he trailed off, not wanting to say the word – his hesitation made Camillé chuckle – but she understood well enough his meaning.

"That's a very long story," she warned him with some hesitation.

"We have plenty of time."

Camillé sighed and sat down on the swan bed, where he joined her. "Do you really wish to know?" she asked, though she had already decided to tell him.

He gave her a sideways glance. "Only if you are willing to tell me. I will not force you to tell me anything, you know that."

"Je sais… but if we're going to be married, you deserve to know," she muttered, then looked past him at the opposite cavern wall, "I'm not… pure."

"What do you mean, 'pure'?" he asked, and she sighed yet again.

"Erik, I'm… I'm not a virgin. I am by no means a virgin."

One of his eyebrows raised and he frowned. "Qu'il a été (Who was it)?"

"Who do you think?" she whispered, then spoke louder, "Rabe. It shouldn't surprise you."

"It doesn't. Infuriates is a better word," he told her through gritted teeth, hands clenched.

She grasped his hands and unfurled them, holding them in hers gently. "Don't blame him. It was years ago, and I was young and he was my handsome hero –"

"Hero? How could that man possibly be your hero, Camillé?"

"Have been," she corrected in a clipped tone, "He is not my hero now. But he saved me from being raped, Erik. I thought he could do no wrong!"