Chapter 8-

Imhotep vaguely recalled the last time he held this pale-skinned woman in his arms. It was to place her on the sacrificial table at Hamunaptra, a memory that was escaping him with every step he took. When Evelyn had collapsed, time had ceased to exist for him. He rushed to her side and cradled her head in his arms, checking for signs to see if she had harmed herself. He convinced himself that he did not care for this woman; however he decided to bring her with him so that he could clear his head and figure out what to do with her. Imhotep had picked her weightless body up close to his chest, her almost lifeless arms dangling towards the ground. Aware that she was just unconscious, he did not hurry out of the entrance doors, in fact relishing the weight of her against his body. It was a fact that at the current moment he would prefer to deny. He lifted her body closer to his for balance, calmly strolling by the collapsed guard at the front entrance. Imhotep rewarded himself with just a glance at her pale body. She was petite and slim, her black lace dress clinging evocatively and conservatively to unknown curves. Her neckline was cut low with black hemmed lace, yet not even revealing her most interesting assets. Her neck was extremely tempting, the pale throat stretched in invitation. He willed himself not to look at her face, it would only add to the unaccustomed emotions already pounding his mind. Imhotep carefully swerved to avoid the open door, cradling Evelyn's head so that the edge of the wall would not hit her. Exuding nonchalance, he strolled down the stairway all the while holding the woman in his arms as though it were an everyday occurrence. He shifted her in his arms as he took a moment to look at his surroundings. Where could he take her? He couldn't possibly bring her back to the institute. No, he would find more suitable accommodations. With that he disappeared into the shadows like a pale mist, the shadow of the woman entwined in his own vanishing silhouette. Though Imhotep had an impeccable intelligence and sharp senses, he did not catch the pair of eyes that followed him into the distance, the tattoos engraved under its hidden mask.

Ibrahim was tired, no question about it. His body screamed for relaxation, his bones evaporating under the tense sinews of non-existent muscle. Ibrahim was not one to be considered bright, as he did not take the time to sleep during the day so that he would be energized for the night shift at the local hotel his father owned. He hated this type of work, yet he had no choice. He had a couple of debts to pay off, and unfortunately for him he could not pay them off. So, for the time being, here he was working for father yet again. Although he barely did any work anyways. The rugs had not been dusted, and a light sheen of desert sand seemed to incorporate itself into the very atmosphere of the hotel. It wasn't exactly four-stars, but good accommodations were usually reserved for wealthy tourists, not for the locals. So here Ibrahim lay, his feet propped up on the table and his turban coming undone as his head lay tilted upwards, his mouth occasionally emitting little snorts and such. He did, however, catch the bang of the door as it swung open, and could not resist a gasp as he caught a glimpse of the figure in front of him. Or, two figures to say the least. An extremely tall man, a black shroud of death and silence, stood above him in a queer manner. Ibrahim never concerned himself about death, but now had the unwilling vision that such a thing could perhaps occur. It was not the tall man that held his attention for long, however, but the pale beauty that hung lifeless from his arms. Ibrahim scrambled up from his chair and stared worriedly at her.

"Is she okay? What's going on, do you need help?"

The man stared coolly at him with dark, mysterious eyes. He turned to the side and bent down for a moment, slowly pushing the woman onto an empty chair before standing tall. He reached into his robe and pulled out a pure gold chain. He handed it over to Ibrahim.

"Take this; bring back blankets, food, and other such accommodations. This should cover my room for the next few weeks. Keep the rest for yourself."

Ibrahim stared for a split-second before running out into the night, anxious to make the purchases and bring this man whatever he wanted, for he knew that this man was death himself.

Imhotep took a moment to brush Evelyn's hair from her sleeping face, stroking her soft skin, hating himself for that very act.

"Soon, soon I will know what to do with you."

He leaned in, and caught the surprising scent of summer floating from the wisps of her dark hair. This woman would bring him nothing but trouble, yet Imhotep caught himself with the unaccustomed emotion of excitement at this very prospect.

"You will be the death of me again, Ev…Evy… Evelyn."

Sorry about the wait, please read the previous chapter to fully understand the delay. Thank you to all my reviewers, soooo appreciated. I'm going to spend a second with all my thanks.

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