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coffin.
                  As if she had summoned him, the granite slab slid away with a grinding sound, opening slowly.  A rush of fresh air made her dizzy, then Egann's large hands slid under her and lifted her into the blessed night and freedom.
                  "Are you... all right?"   His deep voice rumbled against her ear as, head on his chest, she closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and offered up a silent prayer of thanks.
                  "I am."  When he put her down, her legs wobbled, but she willed them to support her so they did.  Even now, faint as it might be, the silver light of the moon gave her strength.  She drew upon it hungrily, greedily, trying not to think of her people and all they had sacrificed in order to save her.
                  Hiding in such an awful place as some other soul's tomb seemed like a small price to pay compared to what they had given, so that she might be spared.
                  And this man...  Opening her eyes, she let her gaze drift over him, wondering if he had spoken true, if he really was Faerie, and in fact much more than a mere mortal male.
                  Looking at him now, she could certainly believe that such a thing was true. Even in the silver moonlight, he appeared golden. 
                  And beautiful.  And so tempting that she reached out her hand to touch him without even conscious thought.
                  Realizing what she was about to do, she froze.  So much in her life had gone wrong; she would not compound her errors by making an even worse mistake.  Shaken, she let her hand fall.
                  He didn't seem to notice.  "You are covered in ash."
                  Glancing down, she saw that indeed she was.  Her earth-colored gown now matched the rough rock of the temple walls.  Attempting to brush herself off, all she gained for her trouble was an ash covered hand. 
                  "Let me." 
                  Her breath caught.  So help her, she couldn't move, watching in a kind of horrified fascination as he caught the skirt of her gown with one hand and proceeded to wipe her off with the other.
                  She closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of his fingers as they skimmed the line of her waist, the curve of one thigh.  She remembered those brief moments together, before the attack, in his sleeping chamber when she'd come so close to acting upon her dreams.  Thinking of how aroused he'd been turned her insides to liquid honey.  Warm, thick, fluid, she felt herself melt.
                  Because of the strange connection they shared, Egann seemed to sense her tumbled thoughts.  His hand slowed, his touch became more exploratory, more sensual.  No longer simply brushing away ashes, he grazed her breast, causing her nipple to tighten. 
                  "Give me my amulet," he said, his voice rough. 
                  Opening her eyes, Deirdre stepped back, away from the hypnotic magnetism of his touch.  She felt like a fool. 
                  "You seek to beguile the wrong female," she snapped.  "Use your great magic, oh exalted-one-of-Rune.  If you would but take a moment to do so, you would see that I do not have your precious trinket."
                  With a grim smile, he inclined his head. "Very well then."
                  Though he did not move, nor wave his hands about in strange motions or chant incomprehensible words, she instantly felt the disturbance in the atmosphere.  It rocked her, the shifting of power as it swirled around her, tingled like lightening striking nearby.  She felt most of all, a strong sense of rightness, like her body understood and welcomed such a thing.  Though how this could be so she did not know, since the paltry magic she created was not one tenth as powerful as