Full Summary: Summer, 1935. The only daughter of a wealthy rancher, twenty-four year old Adelaide had never had any trouble in keeping up with her four older brothers. She and her siblings work hard to keep their home, in a time when family homesteads are vanishing left and right. But, when her family is slaughtered over a dispute with an infamous land baron, Addie loses everything. The sole survivor of the massacre, homeless, and with the outlaws responsible still on the loose, she seeks asylum with her only living relative in London. Graciously taken in by her distant family, she struggles to adjust to life in a new country, in a new house, with people that she barely knows. But, struggle is soon overtaken by horror when Addie finds herself facing off with Nazis, hell bent on obtaining absolute power from something ancient buried deep in the Egyptian desert. And, with another World War looming on the horizon, it's a race against time to find it before they do.

This story takes place two years after The Mummy Returns. There will be no connection to the third movie, The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor, which I firmly believe should never have been made.

This story is Rated T. However, some chapters will be Rated M or Rated MA. Chapters with alternate ratings will be clearly marked.

***This chapter is Rated MA for violence and explicit sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.***

The Mummy: Resurrection

Prologue

Hamunaptra

1290 B.C.

Zephyret strode steadily through the lower halls of the City of the Dead, unmoved by the screams echoing off of the towering stone walls as she made her way through the massive mummification chamber. She glided effortlessly over the floor with the gold dangling around her ankles chiming musically with every graceful step. The stone was sticky with a thick layer of congealed blood and sand, adhering itself to the bottom of her leather sandals, but she paid it no attention as she continued with regal resolve.

The Medjai halted their gruesome work as she passed, bowing their heads and adverting their eyes to the ground in respect. She nodded to them graciously, taking the time to acknowledge each one's dedication and loyalty as her eyes swept over the still twitching bodies of the priests strapped to the embalming slabs.

Her bright hazel eyes landed unwaveringly on the Medjai captain waiting for her at the end of the chamber, and Zephyret could not help but marvel at his masculine form. He was solid and strong, with shoulders nearly twice as broad as hers, and a physique that could have been chiseled out of stone. His bare chest and arms were marred with black ink, proclaiming him to be one of the pharaoh's sacred guards, and a servant of the great protector Horus.

He bowed low in welcome, "The gods must have blessed you with wings, Great Priestess. For surely you must have flown across the desert?"

Zephyret came to an abrupt stop in front of him, her plump lips pressed into an unyielding line, "Believe me when I tell you, Ari-aut, that I would not have missed this for all the stars in the night sky."

Ari-aut straightened to his full height, rising over her petite frame impressively. Long black curls spiraled down around his face, obscuring the tattoos on his high cheekbones, and for a moment she felt his obsidian eyes sliding up the copper curves of her body.

"Take me to him," she demanded coldly, taking a step closer as she locked her gaze with his, "Now."

He did not look away, much to her great satisfaction. Any other man would have shied away from her, but not him. Not Ari-aut.

"As you wish," he replied, his voice suddenly low and rough, "Priestess."

She followed him deeper into the necropolis, the shimmering torchlight glinting brilliantly off of the gilded beads woven into her long, black hair. It practically glowed off of the golden chainmail draped loosely over her breasts, and shone brightly through the sheer fabric swathed around her hips, giving her an otherworldly aura as they moved lower and lower.

Down this far into the labyrinth, the chill night air had turned freezing, and Zephyret felt every icy inch of it on the bare skin of her back. The raw metal clinking against her chest caused bumps to rise on her arms, and she shivered.

Ari-aut paused, turning to glance at her over his shoulder, "Are you alright?"

"I'm cold," she stated bluntly.

"We are nearly there," he reassured her, shifting with the intention of moving forward, when suddenly the priestess seized hold of his wrist.

Zephyret forced his robust frame to crash into hers. The sudden shock of his body heat against her chilled skin sent a thrill through her, causing a soft gasp to escape her lips as his palms clamped down onto her hips possessively. He took an aggressive step forward, forcing her backwards, and her shoulders collided with the polished stone wall behind her. She shivered again as her hands slowly slid up the defined lines of his abdomen, over his muscular chest and shoulders.

Her breathing was labored, breathy, and wanton, but Ari-aut was as calm as the statues that lined the passage. He ground his hips into hers as he bent over her, and Zephyret hurriedly ran her hands upward, hungrily gripping onto either side of his face. She traced his tattoos with her fingertips, baring her eyes into his, before burying her fists deep in the curls of his hair. She pulled him down to her, their lips only a breath apart, "Warm me."

He smiled mischievously, his teeth glinting white against his bronzed lips as he chuckled against her mouth, "I have missed you as well."

"Stop talking," she demanded, lifting herself up just enough to force her mouth onto his.

Zephyret was a daughter of the Falcon God, second only to Pharaoh and his children. It was true, she was still young. Nevertheless, she was one of the most powerful women in all of Egypt, controlling temples throughout the Nile basin, and commanding a legion of warriors and priests. And yet, here and now, with Ari-aut's rigid hold on her, she felt frail and helpless. No more powerful than a slave girl in her master's grip.

Ari-aut took control effortlessly. His tongue laved over her bottom lip before penetrating her mouth, easily dominating their kiss as his massive arms enveloped her body. She trembled as he thrust his hips shamelessly against her pelvis, feeling his hard length through the heavy pleats of his shendyt. Her fingers fell gracefully to the folds of his leather kilt, digging into the creases against his flesh, only to gasp in surprise as he suddenly pushed his hand between her thighs.

His skillful mouth continued to ravish the line of her jaw, nipping and sucking at her smooth skin as his calloused fingers teased at the delicate folds between her legs. Her hips jutted forward zealously, desperate for more friction as she dug her nails into the muscles of his back.

"Ari—" she begged, biting down on her lip to silence her cries as she felt his fingers curl into her wet heat.

His breathing was stressed now, having abandon his stoic exterior in the throes of desire. Every puff of his hot breath against her skin sent a fresh wave of frantic need through her, until she felt like she would collapse, unable to endure the sensations wrecking her body. Impatient, she slid her hand under the flaps of his skirt, gripping him insistently, and she felt him quiver.

Ari-aut pushed himself into her hand with an impious groan, the sound vibrating against the curve of her throat as he dug his teeth into her. The next thing Zephyret knew, he had torn himself away, briefly exposing her to the bitter cold, before seizing her almost violently and whirling her around to face the wall. He shoved her flat against the stone with a guttural growl, and every solid ounce of his body pressed forcefully to hers as he began to slowly pull up the fine fabric of her sarong.

She could feel his bare flesh against the small of her back; hot, long, and hard. Bracing, she pressed her open palms to the polished hieroglyphs, quivering as he positioned himself behind her. "Ari-aut…" she breathed anxiously, "Please…"

Ari-aut pressed a chased kiss to her shoulder, his rough fingers tracing small, soothing circles on her hips, before biting down to stifle his cry of ecstasy. With a single, abrupt thrust, he sheathed himself within her fully.

Zephyret failed to quiet her whimper as he entered her. The movement had been swift and excruciating, but had also released a sudden surge of unmatched satisfaction. "Gods…" she gasped as he stilled, his fingers marking her skin red as he struggled to hold himself back, in fear that he had taken things too far.

She tensed, pressing her back to his heaving chest and sucking in stinging gulps of air, before timidly reaching behind her. She guided his large hand up under the chainmail dangling over her chest, inhaling sharply as his coarse fingers grazed over the sensitive skin of her breasts.

He held her against him, using his free hand to angle her chin just enough that he could recapture her mouth in a raging kiss. She stiffened in his arms as he withdrew from her slowly, all the way to his tip, before suddenly plunging back in. Zephyret gasped sharply against his lips, but Ari-aut kept her steadfast in his arms as he repeated the motion, again and again.

His every movement was restrained, with each singular thrust slow and heavy, until Zephyret was wound tight against him. Pleading and gasping for breath, she felt herself growing closer to the brink as his hand slid down her abdomen, resting over her womb. And, though she could not see him, she could not help but picture his body in her mind's eye. The way he was braced against her, with his muscles flexing with every thrust, and his sweat glistening gold in the torchlight.

He moaned softly against her ear, unable to restrain the sound as his hips jutted forward abruptly, breaching their rhythm as his grip on her body tightened. His thrust continued to come, over and over, erratic and increasing in speed.

"Ari-aut!" Zephyret cried out for him, the sound echoing through the chamber as she clawed her nails into his forearm. She was wound so unbearably tight.

He slid his fingers downward, digging into her folds to aid in her release, and he felt her walls tremble tentatively around him. Another growl escaped his lips; a deep raucous sound that vibrated through his core. He flattened his unfilled hand against the wall beside hers, his fingertips digging into the stone as he forcefully hauled her hips back against his. Three more ruthless thrusts driven by sheer ecstasy, and he felt her come undone, clenching down on him mercilessly as his chest convulsed against her back. He spilled into her, filling her with his seed, and she milked him for every ounce.

He shuddered as he slumped against her, resting his forehead against her silky hair as he ran his hands lightly down the sides of her arms. She could feel his heart beating against her back as he carefully untangled himself from her, pressing a gentle kiss between her shoulder blades before pulling away, still panting.

Zephyret did not move. The euphoria racking her body was mingled with the new ache between her legs, dissipating with every ragged breath she drank in. In mere moments, her rapture had faded completely, dying into shame and guilt as a tear slid down her cheek. Her stomach knotted as she slowly turned, watching Ari-aut belt his shendyt back around his naked waist. She quickly averted her gaze, feeling nauseated as she glanced downward.

With a wave of embarrassment, she suddenly noticed her sarong was still bunched around her middle, and she hurried to right it, blushing when she noticed the drop of blood running down the inside of her thigh. She almost jumped when she felt his hands beside hers, pulling the fabric down over her legs gently. He pressed a kiss just above her knee as he knelt in front of her, smoothing out her skirts to preserve her modesty. Even after the feverish consummation of their long, forbidden courtship.

She had wanted to feel his hands on her for what had felt like an eternity. It had been agonizing, but she had never allowed herself to indulge fully. She had been chaste. Saved for the gods. However, now that she had given into temptation, she feared what Ari-aut would think of her, knowing what she was about to do to them. But, she had made her choice. She had needed to be with him, just this once, and she could live with the consequences.

He stood, towering back over her as he tenderly brushed his fingers over her cheek and down the line of her lips. Zephyret stared up at him, enamored by his stalwart features and his dark eyes, and before she could stop herself, she uttered, "I love you."

The Medjai captain did not speak. Instead, he drew her close, wrapping his arm around her once again and sliding his fingers to the small of her back. He pressed himself against her, bowing his head and nudging her nose teasingly with his, before brushing his mouth against hers affectionately. Every movement of his lips was subtle and deliberate, as though he were speaking only through them alone, and it was not long before Zephyret had lost herself in his intentions. She held herself to him, lacing her fingers back into his black curls as she answered every swipe of his tongue with one of her own.

She hated to pull away, but she knew that as much as she wanted it to, this moment could not last forever. She placed her hand on his cheek, running her thumb along the bone longingly as she felt the water stinging threateningly in the corners of her eyes.

"I need you to promise me something," she whispered, her voice suddenly weak.

Ari-aut did not hesitate, "Name it."

"Promise me," she pleaded, "that you will remember me like I am, here and now, in this moment."

He narrowed his eyes, mystified by her odd request. And, it was then that he noticed she was shaking, "Priestess?"

"Promise me," she insisted, dropping her hand to his chest and resting it over his heart.

"As you wish," he nodded solemnly, releasing her and taking a step back.

"That is not what I asked!" she exclaimed, rushing forward and reaching for his arms.

He caught her by the wrists, holding her still as his questioning gaze swept over her. "I promise," he vowed quietly, bringing her hands to his lips and pressing a kiss to her trembling fingers.

She swiftly pulled his hands to her, placing matching kisses on each of his tattoos. "Then, brace yourself, my love," she warned him direly, "for what is about to come. Sacrifices… must be made."

"My loyalty is to you," was his only response.

Zephyret drew herself away reluctantly, gazing sorrowfully at him for a long moment, before at last turning and continuing their decent. She walked ahead of the Medjai, ignoring the rawness in her step, and fighting to restore her impassive demeanor as her heart hammered against her sternum. Ari-aut's presence was reassuring as they neared the end of the passage, the chamber growing darker as they slopped downward. The torches seemed unable to permeate the shadows here, like the darkness itself was alive, pushing back against all invading light. And then, at last, they entered into the Hall of Anubis.

The priests were waiting for them. Six in total, dressed in their jackal masks as they surrounded the entrance in a crescent, and flanked on either side by another dozen Medjai. They bowed in unison as Zephyret entered, and did not straightened until she and Ari-aut had reached the center of the chamber.

"Bring me the traitor," she ordered, her quiet words resonating loudly throughout the gallery.

The Medjai drug him in on his knees, scraping his smooth, high-born flesh against the stone floor, before discarding him roughly in front of her. Zephyret glared down at him with a queer mixture of gratification and disdain. She enjoyed seeing him like this; Imhotep, the once great high priest of Osiris, reduced to this beaten wretch.

"You must enjoy seeing me like this?" he chuckled darkly up at her.

The corner of her lips twitched, "My feelings are of no consequence. I'm here to pass down judgment, as the gods see fit."

"And what have the gods decided?" he spat back at her, his tone both light and acidic.

Zephyret ignored him, sweeping her eyes coldly over the masked priests and Medjai alike, "Horus has come to me. He has spoken, and I am honor bound to obey him."

She took a deep breath, steeling herself as she forced herself to lock eyes with the disgraced priest. "Imhotep," she addressed him, her strong tone echoing through the vast chamber, "You are guilty of treason, by your own admission. You are a blasphemer of the highest order, and your sins are of the most grievous in living memory."

The hall was eerily silent, with every man hanging intently on her words.

"Imhotep," the high priestess of Horus proclaimed in a voice like thunder, "For the murder of his earthly son, Horus sentences you to the Hom Dai."

A collective exhale ripped through the gallery.

Imhotep deflated before her eyes, all bravado gone in an instant as his face crumbled into fearful despair. "No…" he protested vehemently, "No! NO!"

Zephyret continued to look straight ahead as she addressed the priest of Anubis, "Begin."

The Medjai began to swarm around him, and Imhotep kicked, and screamed, and begged as they dragged him deeper into the hall, where the priests were already preparing for their gruesome work. And, she made herself watch every second of it, keeping an emotionless mask plastered onto her face. She watched as they cut out his tongue. She watched them wrap him in fabric and place him into the stone sarcophagus. She watched as his body twitched and jerked as the scarab beetles were thrown over him. She watched as they sealed him inside, and chiseled off the sacred spells. Until, finally, they were ready for her.

"Bring me the book," she ordered quietly.

A priest obliged, presenting her with the obsidian Book of the Dead on his knees, while one of his brothers bestowed her with the octangular key.

She unlocked the book, an icy wind suddenly gusting through the chamber as she opened the heavy slates and began to read. Her voice echoed off the walls, the air around them steadily getting colder. The words bounced off one another, over lapping and layering. Becoming louder and louder, until the hall was vibrating with them. Medjai and priests both clamped their hands over their ears.

Zephyret closed the book with a solid clank, and then there was silence. The chamber around them stilled, she turned her back on the black sarcophagus. "Bury him at the feet of Anubis," she commanded firmly as she moved swiftly back towards the mouth of the hall, "And bury him deep."

Ari-aut was waiting for her just inside the passage, and once again she found herself enamored by his strength. Her heart pounding in her ears, she approached him cautiously. With every step, she searched his dark eyes for any signs of anger, but he just continued to gaze back at her tolerantly, until she reached up and gently began tracing the tattoos on his face.

He grasped her hands tightly, before tenderly kissing her palms, "My loyalty is to you."

Zephyret collapsed against him, burying her face into his bare chest and breathing in his sent. "I'm sorry," she uttered softly against his skin as a tear streamed down her cheek, "I'm so sorry."

She looked up at him, her wide eyes horrorstruck, "He can never be allowed to rise."

Ari-aut lovingly pulled her away. He ran his thumb along her cheek, cupping her chin in his fingers and vowing, "Then, he never will."