We're stuck here for the day," Tamara observed, her voice soft with relief. She sat on the cold floor, her knees drawn to her chest, and watched as Eric approached Damien. Shannon had withdrawn suddenly, going silent after Damien had told her she could leave him soon. He couldn't look at her to judge her mood, whether she was happy at the news or angry to have to wait through one more day. He couldn't stand the thought that he might see her eagerness to leave mirrored in her eyes. Eric reached out a hand and Damien clasped it, letting Eric help him to his feet. "I wasn't much help, I'm afraid," he said aloud, and silently he said more. For God's sake, Damien, she jumped on the bastard to save you.

"You were more help than you know." It was true, Damien thought, a little surprised. Not just the distractions their arrival had provided, breaking Anthar's concentration more than once and probably saving Damien's life. But the feeling of support. The warmth of friends. It was something he hadn't felt in centuries.

And she tried to help me because she feels she owes me, for saving her life in the past.

"Well, at least I can patch up the worst of these injuries for you." Normally, Damien would have turned away, insisted he could take care of himself. But not now. He stood still while Eric ripped a sleeve from his own shirt and began tearing bandage-size strips.

"Tamara's right, you know," Damien observed, loudly enough so everyone, including Shannon, could hear. He wanted her to understand that he wasn't deliberately prolonging her presence here. "We couldn't make it far before sunrise, and who knows what kind of shelter we could find out there? It's best to stay here, rest tomorrow and leave at dusk."

He chanced a peek at Shannon to see if she understood. But she was kneeling now in front of Tamara, and a second later, hugging her. "I thought you must be dead."

"I almost wished I was when I landed." Tamara smiled at her.

"But I'm fine now."

Shannon shook her head slowly, mutely. The newcomer, Roland, stood with his back against a stone wall, while regal Rhiannon tore a strip from the hem of her floor-length satin dress and used it to make a sling for his arm. He must have injured it when she'd knocked him to the floor. He winced in pain, and Damien saw the woman wince along with him. Her eyes were dark with concern when she looked at him. Jealousy stabbed Damien. Why couldn't Shannon look at him like that?

She did a second ago. Eric again. The optimist.

No, she didn't.

"He should see a doctor," Shannon whispered. She glanced back at Damien, who was currently using pressure to stop the bleeding of a small cut on his forearm, while Eric wrapped a makeshift bandage around it. "And so should you, Damien."

Tamara ran a soothing hand over Shannon's hair. "Any injuries we have heal while we rest during the day. Hasn't anyone explained that to you yet?" She shot Damien a slightly accusing stare as she asked it.

He only shrugged. "Shannon has a lot to learn, and plenty of time to do it." Damien glanced at his watch. "It'll be dawn in a few hours. I think I'll move to one of the smaller chambers now. After that battle, I don't feel like doing any thing but lying down." He avoided Shannon's eyes. The truth was he didn't want to see her anymore. It already hurt too much knowing she'd leave him so soon.

Rhiannon left Roland's side to approach Damien as he turned to go. She wasn't smiling. She seemed to float over the stone floor rather than walk, until she stood before him, chin lifted, eyes blazing. "Not until we've been introduced, at least."

"Rhiannon..." Roland's voice held a warning.

She ignored it. "So, you're the great Damien I've heard about."

"And you're Rhiannon, princess of Egypt." She was beautiful. Not as beautiful as Shannon, of course, but lovely just the same. Elegant. "I've heard of you, too."

"You nearly got my friends killed." It was a simple statement of fact.

"It wasn't his fault, Rhiannon." Tamara's voice didn't douse the hint of fire in her eyes. But Roland's good hand closing on her shoulder, his words, spoken low and near her ear, did.

"I don't think it's my imagination, Damien. The wolf I just saw fighting a cobra looked awfully familiar to me. We've met before, that wolf and I. Haven't we?"

Damien averted his eyes. Rhiannon frowned hard at Roland. "Wolf? You mean..."

"In France, my love, when you'd been captured by Lucien and I lay immobilized, watching the sun come up to fry me. The wolf that came to me, pulled me into a cave as I clung to its furred neck. That wolf with the wisdom in its eyes..."

Roland let his voice trail off. Damien said nothing, only nodded once, and turned to go into the nearest chamber. He'd gone against his vow of seclusion to help Roland back then. But he'd been in the area on tour and sensed the man's distress, loud and clear, though he hadn't been listening. Even when he'd decided to step in, knowing he couldn't let someone die when he had the power to save him, he'd done it in disguise. He'd wanted no one's gratitude. No one's friendship.

He'd been wrong. He had their friendship now. Even Rhiannon's. Her hand rose and cupped his face. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek. No words were needed. Damien nodded a confirmation to himself. He had their friendship, and he was better for it.

But he didn't have what he wanted most. Shannon. Not just her, but her heart. Her love. And he couldn't deal with the fact that he was about to lose her in front of them, friends or not. "You should all find a place to rest, be sure no light can penetrate." He turned once again and walked into the first darkened room within reach.

* * * * *

Roland lowered his head and disappeared into another one. The cat left Rhiannon's side to lumber toward Shannon. She stood, her back to the wall, a little thrill of alarm jingling her nerves. It sat on its haunches in front of her, lifted a forepaw and playfully batted Shannon's hand. She felt her eyes widen, but she stayed still as the cat rose and moved forward, shoving her head against Shannon's hand and pressing upward, eyes closed. She stroked the animal, blinking in shock.

"Her name is Pandora. She's... usually a very good judge of character."

Shannon met Rhiannon's almond eyes, saw the ruby lips curve just slightly.

"Not everyone has the courage to shout defiance in my face. Barely anyone, actually."

Shannon lowered her head. "I'm sorry about that. I know you were only trying to help me, but I..." She glanced toward the chamber where Damien had gone, a lump forming in her throat. "I couldn't leave him."

"You threw yourself onto the back of a creature that could have killed you."

"I had to try."

Her lips curved a little more. Her eyes glittered. She sent a meaningful glance toward the chamber doorway. "Yes. A woman in love always has to try." And then, the picture of elegance, she floated into the room where Roland had gone. The cat trotted along behind her, a slight limp in her feline gait.

Shannon glanced down to the stone floor where Tamara sat, Eric now resting on her opposite side. Their hands were joined, fingers interlaced. Tamara met Shannon's eyes and nodded once.

Licking her lips, squaring her shoulders. Shannon turned and entered the dark chamber where Damien had gone.

* * * * *

He heard her come in, knew she was there even before he heard her. He felt her presence. He groaned inwardly, but there was another voice in him, one that was thrilled to have these few moments with her, alone, before she left him forever.

He'd brought a torch in here, mounted it in the sconce on the wall near the back of the room. He sat on the floor, back to that wall, watching the play of shadows on the small carved figures and the play of light on their eyes. They seemed alive.

She crossed the room, sat down beside him. By Anu's power, she was a goddess come to life, still dressed in the sacrificial gown, with the golden bands on her arms. She didn't look at him, so he was free to study her until it hurt. Her golden tresses tumbling over her shoulders, her satin skin, her velvet lashes.

"I've lost count now of the number of times you've saved my life."

He said nothing. She was sitting very close to him, but not touching. He longed to reach out, to run his hands through her silken hair, to bring her face to his and taste her mouth one more time. He clenched his hands into fists that trembled. She was here out of gratitude, he told himself. Nothing more.

"I've been thinking," she whispered. "About a lot of things. About you, mostly. The man I got to know, and the man I know now. And I realized that you're the same. Damien or Gilgamesh, mortal or immortal, you're the same."

Still he said nothing. Only watched her struggle for words, waited for her to continue, to tell him why she would leave him.

"I was afraid of something I didn't understand, and angry because I felt you'd taken control." She tugged at the tip of her right index finger, picked at the nail. Nervous. "I'm afraid to let other people have any authority or control in my life. It terrifies me."

"Because of your childhood," he said softly, unable to keep silent on the subject. "It's understandable. Shannon. If the man who tried to abuse you wasn't already dead, I'd kill him myself." He blinked, fighting down the rage that had risen inside him. "I knew how you felt. I had no right to act without asking you. No right at all, and I knew it."

She nodded slowly. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. "And what would my answer have been, I wonder?" She drew a deep breath, and released it slowly. "I've been thinking about that a lot, too. And you know, I think if I'd known all there was to know, if I'd had a chance to get to know these people, to accept what seemed impossible to me, I think I would have agreed. I think... No, I know I would have wanted this."

He turned his head sharply, staring down at her eyes, torchlight in amber.

"When you were fighting with Anthar ... God, I was so afraid he'd kill you. And I started wondering what I would do, how I would go on without you."

"You don't have to be dependent on me. Shannon. I never meant to make you feel that way. Any of them can teach you all you need to know."

She shook her head, staring into his eyes, an intensity building in hers "But I don't want any of them to teach me. I want you to do it, Damien."

He lowered his head. It was too painful to stare into her eyes for another second. "So you've decided you can bear to be immortal. You've decided you'd like me to teach you. But, Shannon, I've decided... that I just can't do it."

"No?"

"No." He met her eyes again, forced himself to. "I can't be around you and not be with you. Shannon. I want you too much, and I'm not strong enough to fight it anymore. I love you. Shannon." He got to his feet, frustration urging him to beat the walls down with his bare hands. But it wouldn't help.

She stood, too, facing him. Her expression so solemn that he had to look at her, had to wonder what she was working up to, here.

She lifted her hands to the brooch that held the white gown in place.

"No, Shannon..."

A second later, the garment was a soft white cloud settling around her feet. "I don't want you to fight it right now, Damien."

He wanted to close his eyes. But nothing could make him turn away. She was too beautiful, standing naked before him, torchlight flickering over her pale skin. He reached out with hesitant hands, and paused. But he couldn't stop himself, could he? Whether it was gratitude or just ordinary desire, he couldn't turn her away. Not when he knew so well it would be the last time.

He touched her arms, ran his palms slowly up and down over them. "Shannon..."

"I told you, I would have taken this option if you'd offered it before I got so sick," she said. "But you haven't asked me why."

He ran his palms over the perfect curve of her back, pulled her close to him, bent his head to kiss her neck, her jaw, her face. Ah, she tasted like ambrosia! He caught her earlobe between his teeth. She wanted to drive him insane, didn't she?

Her fingers traced invisible patterns in his hair. "Ask me why, Damien."

He took her mouth, fed on it, and she responded in kind. Dammit, but he wanted her. Even knowing it would only result in more pain when she left him. He fell to his knees to suckle her breasts, and his blood heated when her breaths quickened and her hands held him to her. He kissed a path over her belly, tongued her navel, then bent lower to taste her secret sweetness. He wanted all of her, every bit. He'd commit her to memory and never forget.

She gasped, her hands trembling on the back of his head as he worked her into a frenzy with his mouth and tongue. She whispered his name, and he used his teeth, smiling when she shuddered in response. Her knees buckled, but he followed her down, climbing up her body with his mouth as his hands worked to open his pants. He'd have her, one last time. He'd be sure she never forgot him, either, even if she lived ten thousand years, a hundred thousand!

He reached her face, parted her mouth with his tongue and made love to it, even as he urged her thighs wider and nudged into her moistness. She arched her hips to take him inside, and he went, eagerly. Her slick entrance clenched him, squeezed him as he drove deeper, filling her up and retreating. Holding back, teasing her until she bounced beneath him, before he plunged into her once more. It was heaven. It was hell. It was slow, burning torture.

He rode her hard on the path to ecstasy, and when he hovered at the brink, he felt her teeth at his throat. She took his essence into her body, as release pounded through her. His own climax was his reply, and she clung to him as if she were drowning. Then relaxed beneath him. He felt her muscles unwind, one by one. She sighed long and low and her fingers wound in his hair again.

"That was like nothing I could have imagined." A bare whisper. A new wonder in her voice.

He rolled off her to lie on his side, lifted her head to pillow it on his arm. "Your senses are heightened. You feel everything more thoroughly than before." He kissed her cheek. It had happened too fast. He should have taken more time, made it last, drawn it out. It was over. Dammit, already it was over.

"You can say that again." She opened her eyes to stare up at him, the laughter vanishing from the amber. "Ask me why I would have chosen to live, Damien."

He swallowed hard, a small candle of hope igniting in his dark soul, just from the touch of the light in her eyes. He hated that glimmer. It would only make the impending disappointment harder to take. But he asked her. He grasped at the straw she dangled. "Why would you have chosen to live, Shannon?"

"Not just because I was afraid of death. Not for eternal life and health and youth. Not for all this strength and energy, or even for the chance to avenge Tawny's murder."

She paused, her head lifting until her lips hovered a hairbreadth from his. Her eyes shot amber sparks at him, and the candle inside him flared brighter. "But because I love you."

"Shannon..." He caught her head in his hands, kissed her, tasted her, dug into her mouth with his tongue.

"I'll never leave you, Damien. Gilgamesh. I'll be with you for always. You will never have to walk alone again. And neither will I."

He kissed her again, deeply, and the slow healing of his oldest, deepest wound began.

...it yearns and waits to be retouched By someone who can take away The memory of death.

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