CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
We shall be what we imagine though we know not yet what that may be. Blessed are we in eternal changing. Blessed are the creatures and gods of the earth, things of the air and water, flame from the fire.
You and I are pure as dream, lasting as words. We were given the gift of becoming and the ways of it. After a time of forgetting, I come back to myself
I have looked into my heart and seen jealousy, pride and greed. I've seen fear and resistance to change. I have regretted the past and longed for the future, forgetting to notice the mountain of the present. But today, for this moment, I am here with you unburdened by thought and filled with joy. In this moment I regret nothing, for the paths I chose led me here. I offer you my life.
--Excerpt from "Becoming One of the Ancients", Egyptian Book of the Dead, as translated by Normandi Ellis
For what had to be the half-dozenth time that night, Eliana rolled over in her sleeping bag, shifting her position and trying to thump her pillow into a more comfortable shape, one that might help her get some sleep. But it was useless. She was wide awake, and no matter how long she stared up at the lopsided, hastily patched ceiling of her tent, sleep was no closer than before. As they had been all evening, ever since his coolly aloof departure from her, her thoughts strayed to Imhotep. What was he doing now? Was he comfortable? Was he able to sleep, as she was not? Had he been able to wipe her from his mind as easily as it seemed he had? Or did he lie in the dark somewhere, thinking of her, of them, of what had been…
Eliana sat up, angry with herself, restless, keyed up and finally realizing that she would not be sleeping anytime soon. She shoved a hand through the auburn fall of hair that tumbled to her shoulders, pushing it back and lifting it from the back of her neck, holding it away from her so that the cooling breeze could reach her over-warm flesh.
Standing, she threw on the clothes she had discarded hours earlier, pulling on the jeans and loose shirt, shoving her bare feet into her shoes. The night was cool, so she rummaged through her duffel bag, finally pulling out a comfortable knee length sweater. The maroon duster was a bit impractical for an archeological dig, but it was one of her favorites, so she had brought it along. Now, snuggling into the soft, warm wool, she was glad she had for once given in to the out-of-character impulsivity. The sweater, however, no matter how soft, no matter how warm, was a poor substitute for the hard strength of the arms that had held her while she slept the night before, for the warmth of the smooth, bronze skin, for the unique, spicy scent of the man, for the security she felt in his presence…
Stop it! Disgusted with herself, Eliana angrily pulled down the zippered tent flap, cursing to herself when it got stuck in the nylon fabric. After several angry tugs, she managed to get it loose, leaving a good-sized rip in the fabric. Muttering under her breath, she abandoned the tent, leaving it unzipped, open to the night air and whatever manner of jungle life might wander inside, uncaring right now about anything except outpacing her unruly emotions.
A thought stopped her, though, and she quickly slipped back inside, returning with the Scepter of Osiris clutched in her hand. No matter how much she wanted to get away from the camp, from her thoughts, there was no sense in stomping off into the jungle without at least some protection. And the Scepter had proven to be a most effective, if inexplicable, form of protection from the grisly natives.
For a moment, she stood there, face lifted into the night, feeling the soothing flow of air against her, closing her eyes to the night. Where to go? Somewhere not too far, but far enough that she could put the thoughts of the dig and all its problems, and Imhotep, and all the unwanted feelings he engendered in her, completely out of her mind. Somewhere she could relax, close her eyes, just float into oblivion for a little while…
Too bad there aren't any bathtubs out here, she thought. I could use a nice, hot bubble bath right about now… And then she opened her eyes, and a smile curved her lips, and she had her destination. Still smiling, she reached back into the tent, grabbed a towel, and headed off into the trees.
The dark-clad figure sat motionless at the edge of the camp, leaning back against a large boulder, staring out into the jungle. Even with a full moon, he was nearly invisible to all but the most observant watcher, sitting deep in the shadows of a towering palm tree, blending seamlessly into the night. Sleep had evaded him that night, too, and he, like Eliana, had finally forsaken the claustrophobic air inside the tent, seeking out the cool breeze outside.
His thoughts were chaotic, his emotions on edge, and although he fought to center his mind, force down the turmoil in his soul, he was having little success. In the morning, he would accompany the female healer to the sick man's tent, and if the gods were willing, he would soon know whether this horrifying illness was indeed the plague Amun-Re had spoken of. And if it was, he would be that much closer to discharging his task and finally finding the peace that had evaded him for eons. Why that thought seemed to please him less and less as each hour passed disturbed him greatly. He had made his peace with his fate, he had accepted the bitter finality of his loss some seventy years ago, and that was the end of it. He would not allow it to not be the end.
He caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, a flash of color, and he caught his breath, recognizing her immediately. What would she be doing out here, alone, in the middle of the night? Had the woman no sense at all? Had the dangers they'd faced in the jungle left her completely unfazed? He watched, silent, unmoving, as she made her way through the edge of the camp, looking for the faint path they had made while coming in the previous day. Finding it, she ducked underneath a low-hanging vine, quickly making for the deep shadows of the forest.
He waited for a moment, then stood, his tall form detaching itself from the tree's shadow, a ghost in the darkness. Silently, swiftly, he followed her, keeping her in sight, but remaining hidden himself. This woman would be the death of him yet again, and that he was at all concerned over her welfare infuriated him. It was a foolish, sentimental weakness, and he was beginning to despise himself for it. But he continued down the path, a soundless specter, following her footsteps in the dark like a leopard stalks its prey. No matter that he was a fool for caring, he could not bring himself to let her go into the jungle alone.
The secluded grove that hid the hot spring was not far from the camp, and Eliana reached it quickly. Just as she had remembered, it was enclosed on three sides by the tall trees and brushy undergrowth, on the fourth by the craggy rock face. The small clearing was an enchantment, overhung with the mists that rose from the swirling water, scented with the fragrance of the white roses that grew there in wild profusion. It was a place out of time, separated from the real world by a gossamer veil of magic, kept free of the taint of Ahm Shere's murky origins by the power of some benevolent goddess.
Eliana stepped into the clearing, and felt herself slip into the otherworldliness of the place, caught up by the magic and transported to another time, another place. She paused, breathing in the heavy scent of the roses, feeling the steamy heat rising from the pool, the smell of the hot springs adding the barest trace of a mineral overtone to the air. The sound of falling water reached her ears and her gaze followed the sound to its source—the small waterfall that cascaded down the cliff face and tumbled into the pool, mingling with the heat of the hot spring to form a warm, soothing bath.
Stepping forward to the edge of the pool, she knelt down and trailed her fingers through the warm water, letting the heat soak into her skin, letting the steam caress her face. The water's touch was soothing, calming, and she closed her eyes, letting the magic of the place seep into her. Finally, she removed her hand, wiping the dampness on the towel she had brought with her before spreading it out on the ground beside the water and laying the scepter beside it.
Normally, this kind of impulsivity was anathema to her nature, but tonight Eliana was not herself. The revelations and wonders of the past few days, combined with the stress of the trauma that now surrounded the dig, had weakened her inner defenses to the point where they were virtually useless. She was making her way in unfamiliar territory, charting a course through the wilderness of her own emotions, and the values and beliefs that she had always held dear were of no use in helping to guide her path. Indeed, they seemed to be consistently pushing her in the wrong direction.
Eliana removed the heavy sweater, glad to be rid of its warmth. The air here was balmy and moist, and she had no need for the garment. Hesitating for only a second, she kicked off her shoes, stripped off the tight jeans, and unbuttoned the oversized shirt. Although she doubted that she'd be disturbed here—no one in the camp seemed especially anxious to wander off into the jungle at night, for obvious reasons—she cast a furtive glance over her shoulder anyway, searching the shadows for any sign of unwanted company. Seeing nothing save the undulation of the foliage in the night breeze, Eliana slid out of the shirt as well, tossing it aside and feeling the warm air caress her exposed skin. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back, crossing her arms over her breasts, and for a moment, her imagination conjured up the feel of warm hands sliding over bare flesh, and a shudder rippled through her body.
That's what you came here to avoid thinking about, she chided herself, shaking herself out of the reverie. So get on with it. Inserting a tentative toe into the warm water, Eliana tested the temperature. It was warm, but not too hot, and just the slightest bit effervescent. Stepping in, she found that the pool was fairly shallow, only knee-deep at the edge, and gradually deepening. She waded out to the center, where the water reached her waist, and slowly lowered herself into its bubbling warmth.
The water flowed around her, stroking against her skin, massaging away her tension with a gentle touch. In a smooth, gliding movement, she dived underneath the water, emerging a few feet away, shaking the water from her face. Her hair hung in heavy, wet tendrils down her back, gleaming sleekly in the moonlight. If she had had any doubts about coming here, they were gone now, as the moonlight and water cast their distinctive spell on her. She gave in to the moment, and turned on her back, floating peacefully, eyes closed, soaking in the heat, breathing in the scented air. This must be what heaven feels like, she thought, and her lips curved in a smile of pure delight.
Imhotep caught his breath, afraid to move, afraid to make a sound. His hand clenched around the clinging vine he had just lifted away, and every muscle in his body went rigid. So this is where she had come. He remembered how she had looked around the glade earlier in the day, when they had first discovered it. He had seen the wonderment in her eyes as she had drunk in the beauty of the place, had seen the look of longing as she gazed at the bubbling waters of the pool. The place had its own special aura about it, and he had noticed its otherworldly allure immediately. He knew that some spots on the earth were focal points for the elemental magic of nature, conduits for life's energy, and he would not be surprised at all to discover that this was one such location. Tearing his gaze away from her for a moment, he saw the scepter lying on the ground near the towel she had laid out, and realized that she had not come unprotected. She didn't need him here. With the scepter, she had as much protection as could be afforded her, by him or anyone else.
Swallowing against the sudden dryness in his mouth, Imhotep reproached himself. He should have guessed her destination, should have realized where she would go, should never have followed her here… And then he admitted to himself that even if he had known her destination, her purpose, he would have come anyway. Especially if he had known.
He watched as the shirt slid down her arms, baring her ivory skin to the silvery wash of moonlight. He took in the curling mane of hair that fell loose around her shoulders, the curve of her waist, the slender length of her legs. He watched as she tipped her head back, eyes closed, exposing the long column of her neck, the classic beauty of her profile. Was it only his imagination, or had she seemed to shudder just then? The air was warm, hot almost, and the trembling would not have been from the cold. What, then?
He closed his eyes to the sight, fighting against the almost overpowering urge to go to her, unwilling to give in to it, unable to walk away. A long moment passed, and then he heard the water splash gently. She must have stepped into the pool. He opened his eyes again, telling himself that he would stay for just a minute more, just to make sure that she was safe within the depths of the pool. Then he would leave, return to the camp, and try to wipe the images from his mind, although he feared they were branded there forever.
He saw her dive, emerge again, and then stand, the warm water running in rivulets and streams down the hills and valleys of her body. He could imagine following those same paths with his hands, with his mouth… She shook the water from her face and hair, and he saw how the long curls hung down her back, weighted down by the dampness. His hands itched to lift the heavy mass of her hair, his fingers tangling in the curling tendrils… She turned to float on her back, and he went completely still, his body beginning to ache…
With a barely audible groan, he dragged his eyes away from her, dropping the vine, turning to go, and as he stepped backwards, not watching where he placed his feet, he stepped on a fallen branch, snapping it in two. The sound was as loud as a gunshot.
Eliana shot up from where she floated in the pool, her feet scrabbling for traction on the slick surface of the pool bottom, her arms instinctively covering her breasts. Her eyes were huge pools of green in a face suddenly gone pale. Her heart seemed to stop, and then began racing, thundering in her ears, and she couldn't seem to catch her breath. Who was out there? What was out there? Oh, God, why hadn't she allowed her usual cautious nature to guide her actions tonight, instead of giving in to this insane urge…
"Who's there…?" She croaked out the words, the tightness in her throat making her voice low, husky.
Imhotep froze, hearing her call out, hearing the fear in her voice. Gods! He was continually cursed in this woman's presence. For a second, he considered leaving, simply fading away into the night, returning back to the camp, but he realized that to do so would frighten her even more. No, he was well and truly trapped, caught like ill-fated prey by a stalking fate. Gritting his teeth, he turned back to face the pool, once more moving the vine aside, but this time stepping out of the shadows and into the bright moonlight, a ghost taking on shape and substance, materializing within the circle of the glade's protective sphere.
Her first reaction, when she recognized him, was abject relief, and her body went limp from the release of tension, her pent-up breath escaping from her lungs in a rush. Of all the things that could have stepped out from the shadows, he was the most harmless. Or was he? She saw how he was looking at her, saw the tension in his posture, saw the heat in his eyes, and realized that perhaps she had been wrong. Perhaps she was in more danger now than she would have been if she were facing down an entire regiment of the jungle's gruesome natives. Even though she knew she was utterly safe with him, that he would never harm her, this man was still a threat—to her heart, to her soul. And to her body as well, but not in any way save the most exquisitely pleasurable.
He made no move towards her, said nothing at all, and as the silence stretched between them, growing taught and heavy with words not spoken, Eliana felt her initial relief fade completely away, the tension once again beginning to seep into her bones, the fear slinking back into the corners of her mind. She sought his eyes, looking for reassurance, but finding only a smoldering darkness.
She opened her mouth, trying to speak, but couldn't force out any sound. Her throat was paralyzed, and she swallowed once, twice, and tried again, this time managing a small sound.
"Turn around," she whispered, watching him like a rabbit caught in a leopard's den. "I'm getting out. Please…turn around."
He turned slowly, his back now to her, and she flushed as she found herself staring at him, at the broad shoulders and lean body, well-concealed now by the loose-fitting clothes provided by Sabir, but vividly recalled from both her dreams and the memories of the past two days. She felt the heat rising not only in her face, but through the rest of her as well, starting from her fingers and toes and working its way throughout, finally seeming to pool in the center of her body, low in her stomach, causing an ache that was part pain, part…something else.
Moving cautiously, but with as much haste as she could manage, she left the pool, walking out of the shallow water, towards the pile of clothes she had discarded only minutes before. Not bothering with the towel, only thinking to cover herself as quickly as possible, she reached for the baggy shirt she'd worn, with some difficulty shoving her wet arms into the sleeves and, with shaking fingers, managing to button it enough to preserve some sense of decency. She felt the shirt grow damp, leaching water from her body and hair, beginning to cling uncomfortably to her still wet skin. She bent, reaching for her jeans.
"Are you dressed?" His voice was so low that she almost missed the question. Catching hold of her jeans with one hand, she straightened again, once more facing his broad back. She saw that he stood there rigidly, his hands in fists at his side, the tension in his posture almost palpable. She gulped, feeling almost sick with tension.
"Almost."
He knew that he should not turn towards her, screamed it at himself as his body disregarded the warnings of his mind, turning anyway. And once he had turned, once he had seen her standing there in the moonlight, her long hair hanging down past her shoulders, her bare legs exposed to the night air and his hungry gaze, the damp fabric of the mis-buttoned shirt plastered against her skin like transparent gauze, revealing far more than it concealed, it was too late. Every good intention, every instinct of self-preservation, every thought of caution fled his mind, leaving only a burning, raging desire.
She saw his eyes darken even more, saw his hands clench and unclench at his sides, saw a tiny muscle begin to twitch in his cheek. Her eyes swept over him, taking in the rigid set of his jaw, his tightly clamped teeth, the struggle he exerted to control his breathing. He looked like a panther about to pounce on unsuspecting prey, every sinew in his beautifully muscled body tensed and waiting for some signal, some sign.
When her eyes returned to his, he saw the fear in them, but he saw the turmoil as well, saw reflected in their green depths the same inner struggle that he was experiencing. He watched as she backed away from him, holding her clothing clutched to her chest, a useless talisman against him and the spell that was being cast over them. A spell that no mere amulet could ward off, an enchantment that wrapped its tendrils around them both, pulling them unwillingly towards a common destiny.
He watched her as she fought against it, watched as she waged a futile battle in a war that was already lost, watched as she made one last attempt to extricate herself from the snare that held her, held him, bound them both.
"Why did you follow me here?" The question was pointless, if not rhetorical, and he didn't bother to answer. His original reasons were as far away from the current truth as they could be, and he saw no need to voice them. Her next question though, was loaded, and as she asked it, he felt the ache in him begin to grow into an almost throbbing pain. "What do you want?"
Giving up, surrendering to the inescapable grip that fate seemed to have on him, he let his eyes reflect every shard of hunger, every flame of the conflagration that was blazing within him. He let her see into the deepest reaches of his soul, and she drew back, panicked, afraid. His answer was terse, and she froze in terror at the words and their meaning, at the naked desire in his eyes. "I think you know."
His hand reached out, his fingers picking up a tendril of her hair. Staring at it, admiring the glossy reddish brown, he was amazed at the fineness of its texture, of how soft it felt between his fingers. Wrapping the strand around his finger, he exerted the slightest tug, his eyes sliding from her hair to her eyes, and then dropping to her lips. Her mouth was beautiful—full, lush lips begging to be kissed, and he ached to taste them again. She saw him staring at her, and almost involuntarily, the tip of her tongue darted out, moistening her suddenly dry lips. She saw him follow the movement with his eyes, saw the flare of desire there, and she knew that they were both perilously close to giving in to whatever was driving them.
Imhotep raised his eyes to her own, and she stared into them, a shudder of something almost like fear going through her. His eyes blazed with desire, glittering like the stars in the night sky. Releasing her hair, his hand dropped to her shoulder, fingers lightly running over her satiny skin, moving around to the back of her head, cupping the nape of her neck, then sliding up and into her hair, tangling in the damp, heavy tresses and moving over her scalp in a slow, sensual massage. Although he could have easily pulled her to him, he exerted no pressure at all, save for the hypnotic pull of his eyes, the mesmerizing curve of his mouth…
"Come here." There was no force in the universe that could have kept her feet from moving towards him. She stepped closer, so close that she could feel the heat from his body, feel his breath fan her face as he bent his head towards her and spoke, the words low, erotic. "If nothing else can make you remember, perhaps this will…"
His lips were mere inches from hers, and she was shaking by now, caught up in the sensual spell evoked by his husky, softly accented baritone. She stared into his eyes, saw the golden highlights in the brown depths, saw the moonlight reflected there, saw the glimmer of a thousand stars. The battle was over. She craved him, lusted for him, needed him, and his nearness was driving her insane. He was so close, yet not close enough, and with a sigh, her eyelids drifted closed, her face tilted towards him, and her lips parted in a wordless invitation. She dropped the jeans she had been holding, and they crumpled into a pile on the ground, forgotten completely as she lifted her hands to his chest, running them over the rough weave of the shirt he wore, feeling the hard muscle underneath. His eyes blazed with a quick, ferocious look of triumph, and he lowered his lips to hers, sliding them over her mouth, rubbing them back and forth, feather soft, applying almost no pressure at first except that light, delicious friction, then gradually increasing the pressure, becoming more demanding.
Gently, he nibbled at her mouth, pulling on her full lower lip and stroking it lightly with his tongue. He traced the seam of her lips, and with a moan, she opened her mouth to his, deepening the kiss herself, inviting him with her lips and tongue to take what she was offering. Growling low in his throat, he accepted the invitation, opening his mouth over hers, his tongue swirling inside, devouring her with a hunger that burned, thrilled. He tasted of mint and spice, and a unique flavor all his own, and Eliana swayed closer, clutching his shirt, holding herself up through sheer force of will. Her head was spinning, her breathing was shallow, her heart was racing…
His hands moved, skimming her shoulders, running down her arms, sliding around to her back, finally coming to rest on her hips. He pulled her hard against him, letting her feel his body's reaction to her, and without thought she moved against him, her hips pressing closer, moving slightly in a gentle rocking motion, and she felt the answering surge in his body. With a gasp, she pulled her mouth away from his, tilting her neck up and shivering as his lips and tongue blazed a fiery trail down her throat, over her collarbone, stopping only when their path was blocked by the shirt she still wore.
Slowly, he raised his head, his eyes two twin coals, glowing white hot with hunger. His fingers dug into her hips, keeping her trapped there, and she could feel the throbbing hardness of his arousal. He searched her face, seeing the flush on her cheeks, the haze of passion in her eyes, the way her soft lips were swollen and moist from his kisses. It was all he could do to hold himself back from pulling her down to the ground with him and taking her at that very moment, and the fact that he was able to do so was a supreme testament to the strength of his will. He wanted her, wanted her more than he could remember ever having wanted something, but he would not take her under false pretenses.
"Eliana. Look at me." The words were a harsh command, and she obeyed, meeting his eyes and smiling up at him, slightly puzzled at his tone. She raised her hand to caress his face, but he stopped her before she touched him, his fingers wrapping around hers and holding them away from him. The harsh gesture seemed to snap her out of her lethargy, and she opened her eyes wider, searching his face to find the reason for his sudden aloofness. His mercurial change in temperament confused her, and she watched, unblinking, as he spoke again. "You need to know that this will change nothing between us."
His words were like a bucket of cold water hitting her in the face. This would change nothing? It would change everything… It had already changed everything. It had changed her. Ever since he had materialized in the pyramid, her world had been spinning out of control—her only constant was change. How could he say it would change nothing? She half-listened as he went on, her ears hearing the words, but her brain refusing to process them, refusing to accept the meaning.
"This…this thing, this compulsion…whatever it is that is between us, I cannot give in to again. I will not." As he spoke, he carefully set her away from him, taking his hand from where it rested on her hip, disengaging his other hand from hers. He backed up a step, and took a deep breath, consciously damping the fires in his eyes.
She felt like he had slapped her, and she could feel hot tears—tears of mortification, tears of loss—gathering in her eyes. So she had been a fool—a blind, stupid fool—thinking that he could have forgiven her for what she had done to him in that cursed previous life. She had let herself be carried away by this overwhelming desire for him, she had finally taken a risk with her heart, and he was about to rip it in two and toss it back at her like so much trash.
"I see," she said, and he knew by the trembling of her chin, the blur of tears in her eyes, that he had hurt her. It was not what he had set out to do, not what he wanted, but whatever hurt he caused now would save her from a greater hurt later on, and that made it acceptable. He would not trust her with his heart again, but he had forgiven her enough to not want to cause her any unnecessary pain. He regretted that he had, but he was relieved that she understood there could be no future for them.
But her next words proved him wrong. She had not understood at all. "So this was all just some elaborate game, then? Some intricate little scheme to get me to humiliate myself, to pay me back for something that I don't even remember doing? Something I didn't even do? At least not in this body, not in this lifetime…"
He cut her off before she could finish. "This was not a scheme, Eliana. Not a scheme, not a game. What happened here tonight…it was real, genuine, but I cannot let that change what must be. I am sorry," his voice trailed off, and he searched her eyes, looking for some sort of understanding, finding nothing save hurt and a deepening shame. He frowned, annoyed at his inability to make her understand what he was saying to her. "The desire I felt for you—feel for you—is real." He smiled then, a sardonic grimace that mocked him, not her. "It has always been real."
"Then what…" He saw her step forward, and he took a quick step backwards, holding his hands up to warn her off.
"I want you. I desire you, I lust for you, I burn for you," he said, and she could see from his expression and the harsh undertone in his voice that he was telling the truth. His next words made that clearer. "If we…I…had not stopped just now, I would have happily taken what you offered." He saw her open her mouth to protest, and made a quelling gesture with his hand. "Please—it was not just you. I was offering myself to you as well. But only in a physical sense, do you understand that?"
Seeing that she did not, he went on. "I want you. I cannot deny that. I have no desire to deny that. I have always burned for you, no matter what body you inhabit, no matter what lifetime we share. But I cannot make the mistake of loving you again. I will not. It cost me too dearly in the past, and I will not offer you my heart, only to have you trample on it again."
Eliana finally began to understand, and he could see the comprehension growing on her face. He went on. "Once I finish my task here, I will leave. Amun-Re has promised me the blessing of death, and an unfettered path to the afterlife. I will choose death. Do you understand? Nothing that has happened here, nothing that could happen here, will change that. Even if we had not stopped, even if we had lain down with each other and given in to our mutual passion, it would not change that. I can offer you nothing except a purely physical joining." Once more, he let her see into his eyes, see how he spoke truly, see how much he did desire her, even though he held back his heart. "No matter how much I want you, I will not take you without your knowing this. No matter what has happened between us before, I would not do that to you."
She stared at him, understanding at last, and devastated by the understanding. So this, then, was what they meant when people talked about the sins of past lives haunting you in the present. Those sins dogged your footsteps through life after life, until you finally were able to learn from them, repair the damage, and move on. She almost laughed. Damage like she had done him in the past was unconscionable, irreparable, and she would undoubtedly carry the stain of it with her from lifetime to lifetime, eternally reaping its bitter harvest. Some things could not be repaired; some souls could not be redeemed.
She lifted her chin, determined not to give in to the wretchedness she felt, determined not to cry. Calling upon all her reserves of self-discipline, she reined in her emotions, trying to look at the situation with some objectivity. Given their past, his stance was eminently understandable. How could she fault him for trying to guard his heart, for trying to take the safe path, when that was what she had done for most of her life?
He saw in her eyes that she finally understood him completely, and he smiled, almost sadly. "I see that you comprehend my meaning. And I understand, too, how this has made you…reconsider." Along with the steely resolve, there was also a depth of sadness in his eyes, sadness for what had been, for what might have been, and for what he would never allow to be. She could see it there, now that she had stopped watching through the haze of her own misery, and she knew that she was standing at a crossroads. It could be that he was absolutely right, and whatever happened between them would mean nothing, would change nothing. But he could be wrong, as well, for he was no more omniscient than she. Either way, it was clear that the risk would be entirely hers.
There are defining moments in every life, moments when the road suddenly forks, the paths stretching out in different directions, neither one clear, neither one completely safe. Eliana was at such an intersection now. In one direction lay security, and the unknowing loss that accompanies a life with no risk. All her life she had traveled that straight and narrow path, willingly and with few regrets. Every choice she had made had been well analyzed, the pros and cons carefully plotted, the decisions made with careful reflection to minimize any inherent threats. She knew what lay down that road, and curiously, the knowledge left her empty instead of relieved, desolate instead of comforted.
In the other direction, the path was steep and rocky, sharply curved, and the danger was clear and present. The thought of turning down that road filled her with fear, made her heart pound, made her hands sweat, made the adrenalin surge through her body. Taking that path would mean abandoning everything she had always held dear—the security, the safety, the lack of risk that had always comforted her, kept her safe. Everything on that path represented risk, and at the end lay the biggest risk of all. The risk of having her heart ripped out and broken in half—eternally, unendingly—with absolutely no hope of repair.
Eliana breathed deeply, knowing that she was about to make a choice that she might come to regret bitterly. She was afraid of this uncharted path, afraid of the man who stood before her, afraid of the feelings he evoked in her, afraid of what would come of this decision. But if she were honest with herself, she was more afraid of not taking a chance at all, of losing whatever this was between them, of whatever it could be, of going back to her cold, sterile life, where passion only existed in books, where color and life were things that existed on paper, never in reality. Passion was staring her in the face right now, right here, and the choice was hers.
She watched as he smiled again, and that same sadness was in his eyes as he began to turn away. He paused, turned back, and with a tenderness that was at odds with the seemingly cold resolve he had expressed just minutes before, he lifted his hand to trace the age old gesture in the air before her face. "Be at peace, Eliana. I will leave you here tonight, the scepter will keep you safe, and soon enough, it will all be over."
No! Her heart jumped painfully as the meaning of his works sank in. So he intended to fulfill this "mission" of his, and then die? She could not accept that. Damn it, it would not be over! Or at least, if it were, it would not be without a fight on her part. In a heartbeat, her decision was made, and she reached out, capturing his hand in hers, ignoring the look of surprise on his face as she bent her head, pressing a kiss to his palm. Looking up again, she met his eyes, saw the question there, and for once, she made no effort to protect herself, made no attempt to guard her heart. What would be, would be. Fate would have her say, and Eliana would make no attempt to silence her. The consequences of tonight be damned. For once, she would reach out and seize life with both hands, and if that meant she got burned, so be it.
"Imhotep," she said, and her voice shook only slightly as she said his name. "Don't leave. I don't want you to go. Stay here with me, even if it's only for tonight. I want to remember you; I want to remember us. No matter what happens in the future, I want that. You can show me…I know you can." He opened his mouth, clearly intending to argue, but she silenced him with a hand, pressing her fingers gently against his lips, telling him without words that her decision was made. "I understand what you have told me, and I accept it. I am willing to take only what you can give, and I take that gladly. Will you do the same?" As she spoke, she pulled his hand towards her, keeping her eyes locked with his, using her fingers to gently pry his open, finally bringing his palm to rest over her heart, moving aside the edges of her soggy shirt so that nothing lay between them. Taking a breath, she pressed a hand over his, holding it to her warm skin, while with the other she reached up to trace his lips. "Will you take what I am willing to give you?"
He drew in a quick breath, and even though he still looked unsure, she could see that the fire had begun to rekindle in his eyes. She smiled, her fingers still running lightly over his lips, tracing the sculpted beauty of his mouth. "From what little I know of you in this lifetime, this uncertainty is uncharacteristic of you, Imhotep…"
He was shocked to the core by this sudden transformation. The Eliana of just a few minutes ago had been hesitant, timid almost, about seizing what life had to offer. In the space of a heartbeat, she had gone from someone who resisted risk-taking at all costs to a woman who was willing to begin a purely physical relationship with someone who had literally come back from the dead. Someone she could have no future with. He had trouble reconciling this new Eliana with the one he had spent the last several days with. But at the same time, this new woman was beginning to seem altogether too familiar to him…
"I have learned too well that it is not wise to leap headfirst into the Nile without first looking to see if crocodiles lay waiting, Eliana." He smiled ruefully, and she felt his lips curve under her touch. The movement of his mouth on her fingers was unbelievably erotic, and she felt the heaviness in her abdomen begin to grow again, the heat spreading throughout her body like a fever.
"There are no crocodiles waiting to devour you, Imhotep." She smiled. "I have already told you that I understand what you have said, and I accept it." Her fingers left his mouth, trailing down his jaw, slowly moving down his neck to his shoulder, and from there working their way down the hard muscles of his arm to finally take his other hand in hers. "You said that you wanted me. I want you as well. I will take what you can give, and ask for no more. I give you my word." She saw the brief flare of distrust in his eyes. "My word is good, Imhotep. I do not remember my life as Anck-su-namun, but I know what I am in this lifetime. I am Eliana now—you have her word on this."
He stared into her eyes, into the deep, clear green, and he wanted to believe her. If she could accept that this was all he could give her, all they could have, could he not permit himself this one night spent in her arms? He had no way of knowing if he would exist by tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that, and he was at peace with that lack of knowledge. But at the same time, if these were to be his last few moments in the living world, who could fault him for making the most of the brief time he had left as a living, breathing man?
Eliana saw the internal struggle that he was waging, and she smiled again. Pulling lightly on his hand, she tugged him towards her, using his own words. "Come here…"
He hesitated for only a second more before taking a step forward and gathering her in his arms. The desire was back in his eyes, but she could see that there was something else there as well—a lightness that had been absent before, a relief at being accepted on his own terms, and an undeniable tenderness. Her heart leaped with a sudden hope, but she resolutely pushed it away, refusing to do anything but exactly what she had promised—share whatever time with him she had, making no demands, expecting no promises. Her heart accepted the rebuke, but the tiny seed of hope refused to go away entirely, simply fading into quietness, content to bide its time.
His hands cupped her face, thumbs lightly moving over her cheekbones, the heat of his touch starting small fires everywhere. He stared down at her, trying to memorize every inch of her face, from the satiny smooth skin to the lush fullness of her lips, the gentle sweep of her brows, the beautiful green of her eyes. This close, he could see that there was a fine dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose, undoubtedly from the time she spent out in the hot sun at these digs. They didn't detract from her beauty at all, simply highlighted it with an innocent appeal that he found irresistible.
Bending slowly, still holding her face in his hands, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, then to each eyelid. Those areas attended, his lips trailed softly along her cheekbone, finally seeking out her lips. The kiss he gave her this time was one of gentle exploration, and her lips parted beneath his, encouraging him in his discovery. His tongue slipped past her lips, probing into the moist warmth of her mouth, seeking and finding hers, and she felt a jolt of raw longing surge through her at the intense intimacy of the contact.
His hands drifted down her neck, over her collarbone, finally coming to rest on her shoulders. She lifted her hands to his, moving them down to where the edges of her shirt came together, and he understood what she wanted. His mouth and tongue still wreaking havoc on her senses, he reached for the buttons that fastened the damp garment. He found the first button, tried to release it, but found that his hands were shaking, and his normally agile fingers were not listening to the commands his brain was sending them. Gods, it was like he had never been with a woman before, he thought, disgusted with himself. Eliana did not seem to mind, though, and with a soft laugh, broke the kiss, once again lifting her hands to his.
"I don't care," she whispered into his mouth, wrapping her fingers around his. "Tear it."
He groaned, and with one quick pull ripped the blouse apart, buttons flying in a crazy hailstorm through the air. She opened her eyes, watching as he slowly spread the sides of the fabric apart, his eyes drinking in her nakedness. His gaze wandered from the creamy fullness of her breasts, their rosy peaks hard and pebbled, aching for his touch, to the flatness of her stomach, the narrowness of her waist. Dropping further, she saw his eyes darken as they swept over the curve of her hips, took in the slim length of her legs, and finally came back to rest on the triangle of dark curls at the juncture of her thighs. She was trembling all over, watching him as he devoured her with his eyes.
At last, he pulled his gaze back to her breasts. Not taking his eyes off the lush curves, his fingers skimmed over her collarbone, dropping down to lightly caress her ribcage, finally sliding around to cup the ripe weight of her in his hands. His thumbs moved lightly, erotically, over the swollen tips, and she felt a shudder go through her, felt a delicious coiling tension begin to build.
He raised his eyes to hers, and she could see the heat there, the fire of his longing. She held her breath as he continued to move his thumbs back and forth over her nipples, the teasing touch an exquisite torture.
"You are beautiful, Eliana." His voice was husky, gruff with barely checked emotion as he lowered his head, mouth seeking the curve of one breast, laying a trail of fire over the smooth paleness of her skin. "So beautiful." He drew moist circles of heat around the tip of her breast with his tongue, still managing to avoid taking it completely. When she moaned in impatient agony, unable to stand the torment any more, he chuckled, finally opening his mouth and drawing the nipple inside, flicking it with his tongue, pulling on her breast with his lips, sending her up in flames.
She clutched him to her, holding him to her breast, her head thrown back, eyes closed, reveling in the way he skillfully played her body, an instrument in the hands of a gifted musician. Transferring his attention to the other breast, he inflicted the same sweet torture there, holding her still when she would have pulled away, unable to stand the torment any longer. Finally, when he had suckled her breasts until she was in danger of melting into oblivion, he lifted his hands, sliding them up and under the wet shirt, pushing the fabric down her arms, letting it fall to the ground.
He stood upright again, holding her hands out at her sides, his hot gaze raking over her once more. She fought the urge to cover herself, amazed that she could still feel this ridiculous shyness. He had already seen her completely naked, and before the night was through, neither of them would have any secrets that had not been thoroughly, deliciously, utterly exposed.
"You are exquisite," he repeated the praise, shaking his head in wonder. She dropped her eyes, unable to hold his smoldering gaze, wanting only for him to draw her back to him, to complete what they had begun. Finally, he did so, letting her hands drop to her sides, pulling her into his arms, taking her mouth again in a hard, possessive kiss. She raised her arms and wrapped them around his neck, holding tightly as he plundered her mouth, his hands roaming over the contours of her back and buttocks, finally grasping her hips and pulling her fully against him, so that she could feel the hard ridge of his arousal through the borrowed trousers he wore.
She dropped her hands to his waist, slipping her fingers underneath the loose shirt, sliding them up over the ridged contours of his abdomen, running them over the planes of his chest. She found the small, hard nubs of his masculine nipples and lightly raked her nails over them, drawing a low groan from the depths of his throat. She caught the bottom of his shirt in her fists, pulling it upward, suddenly desperate to feel his skin on hers. He helped her, lifting his arms so that the rough fabric slid over his head, off his arms, and was finally discarded on the ground alongside hers.
She took her time, then, savoring the texture of his warm skin under her exploring fingers, relishing the feel of the rippling muscle and sinew beneath. He was perfect, every inch of him, and she pressed a kiss to his bare chest, running her tongue over the smooth skin, tasting him, teasing him as he had done to her. Her hands slid down over his back, and she pressed herself against him, the feel of his skin on hers almost too much to bear. He was warm, solid, incredibly desirable, and the texture of his bare skin sliding across her already aroused flesh sent shivers of heat coursing through her.
Her hands slid down his back, finding the waistband of the pants he wore, slipping around to the front, finding the drawstring that fastened them. Her fingers worked the loosely knotted cord free, and she felt the waist gape open at her gentle tugging. The pants were much too large for him, and with another slight tug, they slid easily down the hard contours of his hips and thighs, falling to the ground, where he stepped out of them, kicking off the borrowed shoes as well.
He stood before her, comfortable with his nakedness, allowing her to survey him at her leisure. Reaching out, she ran her hand down his chest as her eyes swept over him, feasting on the hard contours of his body. He made no effort to hide the fact that he was fully, almost painfully aroused—in fact, as her roving gaze reached that part of him, her eyes widening slightly before darting back to safer territory, he smiled, the corners of his lips twitching in secret amusement. He was pleased that she seemed to enjoy looking at him, pleased that he pleased her, and with an outstretched hand, he beckoned to her.
"Eliana, come here." The amused glint was still in his eyes. "Feasting with our eyes is enjoyable, but to touch is much more fulfilling."
She looked up at him, shy again, now that there was nothing between them but moonlight and shadows, and he reached to brush back her still damp hair. "This is still what you want, Eliana?"
Mutely, she nodded, casting off her timidity and walking into his arms, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing herself against him. "Yes. I want this. I want you, Imhotep. It's just…"
"Shhh," he whispered, his fingers beneath her chin tipping her face up, his lips moving softly over hers. "We have all night, Eliana. As much time as we need, as much time as we want…"
His arms went around her, pulling her close, and she felt his arm beneath her knees as he lifted her in a gentle embrace. He carried her the few steps to the towel she had laid out earlier, kneeling down, still holding her in his arms, laying her gently on the fluffy white cotton, smoothing out her hair, running his hand over her body. She opened her eyes to see him kneeling beside her, and she held out her arms to him. "Imhotep…"
He wasted no time in lying down beside her, gathering her into his arms and taking her mouth in a kiss that was demanding, intoxicating. It carried a promise of dark, secret pleasures, of sinful, carnal delight, and she felt herself melting in its heat. While he kissed her, his hands roved over her body, touching, seeking, exploring more insistently than before, and she moved against him, wanting him to touch her everywhere, anywhere, desperate for him to satisfy the ache that was beginning to build inside her.
When his fingers trailed over her thigh, gently parting her legs, slipping into the moist recesses of her body, she moaned, the sound low, hoarse, almost guttural. He tore his mouth away from hers, watching in fierce pleasure as she cried out, arching her back, pressing herself up against his hand, writhing against him. His fingers delved deep, probing, seeking, and finally withdrawing slightly to find the hard nub where her pleasure was most intense. He stroked her there, rubbing against the swollen bit of flesh, drawing out her pleasure, feeling her heat and moisture on his hand.
"Ah, God, Imhotep, please…" she begged, writhing against his hand. "No more…" But he continued the exquisite torture, letting the pleasure take her so far, but not allowing her to find her release. Not yet. There was more, yet, that he wanted her to feel, more of her that he wanted to touch, to taste… The night was still young, and he was determined to give her every pleasure, every satisfaction, every bit of fulfillment that he could. This night may be all that they had, and he was determined to make it unforgettable for them both.
She shuddered as he withdrew his hand, reaching out for him as she felt him move away from her side. As she opened her eyes to see where he had gone, she felt his hands on her knees, lifting them, bending them, opening her to him, running his fingers over her inner thighs, trailing them over her hot core, parting the swollen folds that shielded her femininity. Looking into his eyes, she caught her breath at the look of white hot hunger there, holding her breath as she saw him lean down, his lips and tongue following the trail his hands had just blazed, feeling the moist heat of his exploration. He nuzzled her, tasting and teasing, flicking his tongue over her again and again, licking in long, deep strokes until she was panting with need, her fingers digging into the towel beneath her, scrunching it up into wadded fistfuls. Still, he refused to let her reach her peak, stopping the delicious torment just as he began to feel her tension build to the breaking point.
She untangled her fingers from the fabric of the towel and grasped his shoulders, pulling him upwards, mutely asking him to end the torture. He obliged her, sliding up along the length of her body, his mouth worshipping her as he went, finally lifting himself above her, supporting most of his weight on his arms, but letting his hips rest against her, letting her feel his swollen length against her flesh. He looked into her eyes; the deep green now glazed with desire, her skin hot and flushed, and thought that she had never looked so beautiful. His heart twisted painfully, and he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead as he held himself poised above her, not moving, not breathing, just watching as she met his gaze. She smiled up at him, and his heart constricted again, then lurched wildly as her eyes took on a playful twinkle and she reached between them, wrapping her fingers around his engorged shaft, guiding it to her entrance.
"Now, Imhotep?" Her smile grew wider, her eyes drifting closed, as she lifted her hips in invitation.
He could feel the sweat breaking out all over his body as he fought the urge to drive into her immediately, deeply, to thrust into the welcoming heat of her body and quench the fever that was raging though him. Instead, he pressed into her slowly, inch by inch, watching her face closely as he entered her. When he came up against the fragile barrier inside, he froze, withdrawing immediately, startled eyes seeking her face.
"Eliana…" he began, only to have her stop his words with a gentle hand on his mouth. Moving her hips against him, she attempted to draw him back into her anxious body, struggling to take him inside even as he resolutely held himself away. Gods, he had had no idea. From the way she had responded to him, encouraged him, he had thought… It did not matter what he had thought. He moved her hand away, relentlessly questioning her. "Eliana, why? You have never been with a man before—why now?"
She dropped her eyes, an embarrassed flush stealing up and over her cheeks. "I didn't think it mattered…"
He shook his head in amazement. "You thought it did not matter? How could it not matter?"
"I didn't think you would care—I didn't even know for sure if you'd notice." She turned her head away, refusing to look him in the eye as he snorted in disbelief at her last words. He gripped her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"Eliana, how could I not notice? I have no desire to hurt you…" His voice was raw with the effort it cost him to remain still. He was dying inside, on fire for her, wanting nothing but to possess her. He ached from the repressed need. Still, he would not take her, not until he was sure she knew, sure that she wanted this as much as he did.
"Imhotep, please. Please." She trailed off, misery in her voice. "Do you want me to beg you?"
His hand was gentle on her face as he smoothed away the tear that leaked from the corner of one eye. "No. Gods, no. If anything, I should be begging you. I do not wish to hurt you, or to take something from you that can never be replaced."
She lay still beneath him, seeing the strain on his face, the tension in the muscles of his arms as he held himself rigidly away from her. Finally, she realized what his restraint was costing him, and that tiny seed of hope inside her cracked open just a bit, sending out a small tendril to curl around her heart. He cared. Perhaps he didn't want to, but he cared.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him downwards. "You are taking nothing that I do not wish to give, Imhotep. I have run from life too much. For once, I want to stop running." Her hips thrust upwards again, and she lifted herself slightly, pressing her lips to his collarbone, whispering against his skin. "Please…"
His only answer was a low groan, as he searched her eyes for the truth and saw it there, staring at him. He saw that she wanted him, wanted this, and the feel of her softness surrounding him, pulling at him, was finally too much. With a quick, smooth thrust, he pierced the barrier, sinking into her depths, impaling her completely. He felt her stiffen at first, heard her gasp, but as he held himself inside her, letting her grow used to the feel of his possession, he felt the tension seep out of her, felt her first, tentative movement against him, and he began to move as well.
Slowly at first, gently, he moved in and out of her, but as he felt her movements growing bolder, more sure, he drove deeper, moving one hand beneath her, tilting her pelvis up to give him greater access. Eliana gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his back, and gave herself over to the sheer pleasure of having him inside her, a part of her. Nothing in her life had ever felt so utterly, completely right. This went beyond lovemaking, eclipsed the mere physical act. It was a homecoming.
She rocked wildly beneath him, straining against the tension coiling within, feeling a delicious tightening sensation start to build. He watched as her breath began to come in short, panting gasps, and he pushed even deeper, realizing that she was close, so close…
He slid his hand between them, feeling for the center of her desire, finding it, rubbing it, flicking it with his fingers, pushing her over the edge. He held himself deep within, and felt her clench around him, felt the rhythmic tightening that signaled her climax, and finally, when the shaking tremors had begun to fade from her body, he allowed himself to find his own release. Once, twice more, he thrust into her tight, slick heat, and with a shuddering groan, he felt himself begin to pour into her.
Eliana wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly inside her as he came, and when the spasms had finally passed, she pulled him down to her, cradling his head on her breast.
He lay against her for a long minute, still within her, and then, not wanting to crush her with his weight, he rolled off her, tenderly pressing a kiss to her lips, pulling her into his arms and holding her tight against him. They lay there together, in the moonlight, beside the gurgling warmth of the pool, and he reached out, gently stroking the sweat-dampened hair from her face, feeling the movement of her hand over her chest, the weight of her head resting on his arm. He nearly missed the words she spoke, as she snuggled in his arms and drifted off into a drowsy half-sleep.
"Imhotep, my love…" He turned to look at her, but her eyes were already closed, her breathing even, and he did not wake her. Her words, though, hung in the air between them, blanketing him with their weight, and as he turned them over and over in his mind, he realized that it was not only what she had said that troubled him so. It was the fact that she had spoken not in the Hebrew he had become accustomed to, but instead had used the clear, melodic cadence of the Old Tongue. The words she spoke were Egyptian, not Hebrew, and as he closed his eyes and drifted off himself, he wondered at what, if anything, that signified.
Some time later, they awoke, shivering despite the warm, humid air near the pool. Imhotep stood, pulling her with him, kissing her deeply, ardently; worshipping her with his mouth and hands before picking her up in his arms and carrying her with him as he walked into the warm heat of the gently moving water. Its moist warmth lapped around them, and as he lowered her into the water, Eliana let out a sigh of sheer bliss. She had thought the water felt like heaven before, but that had been nothing compared to the sensation of being here with him, feeling him pressed up against her, feeling his hands running over her body in a soothing, sensual caress.
He turned her away from him, pulling her back against his chest, and she tipped her head back, resting it on his shoulder, letting him touch her as he wished. He cupped his hands, scooping up the warmly effervescent water, pouring it over her, tracing its path with his hands, running them over her gently, lovingly, massaging out the aches in her tired muscles. As his hands worked their particular brand of magic, his lips traced the slope of her shoulder, seeking out the curve of her neck, tantalizing her earlobe, wandering over her in a teasingly erotic exploration.
Finally, when he felt her begin to move against him, when he could hear her moan softly, he turned her to face him, lifting her up and positioning her over him, letting her slide down until he could feel himself poised to enter the warm heat of her body. Their eyes met, and behind the glaze of passion a deeper emotion hovered, something stronger, yet more fragile, one that neither one was willing to recognize or call by name. Eliana wrapped her legs around his waist, and as he held her up, supporting them both, she moved her hand, reaching down, wrapping her fingers around him, centering him at her entrance. With exquisite patience, he lowered her onto his hard length, closing his eyes to the pleasure.
Slowly, at first, then more rapidly, they moved together, their bodies joined in a wordless symphony, their hearts beating in unison, their breath mixing and mingling as their mouths clung to each other in silent reverence. When the rolling waves of pleasure finally swept over them, they clung to each other, locked in a timeless, eternal embrace, the moonlight playing over their glistening bodies, washing over them in a silvery benediction. Safe, secure within the protective sphere of the glade's unique magic, they held each other in a lover's embrace, replete for now, not knowing, not caring that a malevolent fate cursed and writhed just outside the boundaries of the little enclosure, picking at the veil of its protection with bony fingers.