Primitive Nights Read online

  She jolted when his hand closed around her hair, tugging the elastic band free. He tossed it away before pulling his fingers through the ends to untangle the thick braid. Lifting the strands, he inhaled deep and brushed the tips over his mouth and cheek.

  Before she realized what he was doing, he sliced off a couple inches with a knife and handed it to the man who had held her. He in turn, walked to the fire. Holding it up, he sang out to the others.

  A cacophony of sound erupted around them. The whoops and guttural yells of the tribespeople awakened the jungle. Birds squawked and fluttered from their roosts. Angry yips and snarls issued from the dark, and the baleful cry of an unknown creature stretched out on the wind. The man holding her hair tied it to a decorated wooden staff. He waved the staff over the fire and the strands went up in flames. Another round of celebratory noise filled the air.

  Tarzan-man hadn’t bothered to witness the burning. His lips parted in a smug smile, and at his nod, two men came forward. They grabbed her arms, digging into her skin as they held her, easily overcoming her struggles. She lashed out, kicking and screaming until the leader grabbed her neck. His hand moved down over her breasts, tucking into her shirt. One sharp tug parted the fabric to expose her chest and stomach.

  Panic overwhelmed her in a dizzy swirl. She couldn’t recall a single time Tarzan had raped Jane, and all of her depraved humor fled. Primal instinct took over. She struggled, straining until the muscles of her arms burned with exertion. The men were too strong. She cursed and kicked wildly, landing several blows before the leader stepped closer. His eyes held hers and the slight shake of his head gave clear warning.

  Each breath raked through her lungs, and she forced herself to remain still. Her mind wrapped around the image of fighting in vain as she was subjected to repeated rapes. It flashed to the natives burning her alive. Then to other horrendous deaths. Each vision was followed by another. She clenched her teeth and fists, forcing the images from her subconscious.

  With an almost imperceptible nod from the leader, the men relaxed their hold on her arms and stepped away. An elderly woman approached, carrying two bowls. Patches of long, gray hair swept the severely wrinkled planes of her face. She kept her head lowered and offered the first bowl to the leader with gnarled fingers.

  He brought the bowl to his mouth and drank. Then, he held it up to Myla’s mouth. Cool water dribbled over her lips and she opened, drinking deep. The water disappeared too quickly and she licked her lips, only realizing how thirsty she’d been.

  He handed the bowl back and dipped his fingers into the second one. Chanting in a soothing rhythm, he brought his hand to her forehead. Dark crimson stained his fingers, and with a gentleness she hadn’t expected, he pressed two fingertips to her skin. Slow movements drew down over her right eye and lower to her cheek.

  Her vision blurred and warmth spread through her belly. She closed her eyes as a languid sensation flooded her entire body. When she opened them again, she felt disjointed, disconnected and sensitized. The slight breeze caressed her skin with incredible strength. Each muffled sound increased and ebbed. Firelight played tricks with the surroundings, creating odd colors and ribbons of rays that danced before her eyes.

  She met Tarzan-man’s gaze, entranced by his slow, confident smile. Had his lips been so enticing a moment ago? Full and damp, slightly parted? Dazed and unable to understand the sudden sense of calm, she shook her head to clear the fog. He returned to the bowl and this time, he traced his fingers over her breast, at the edge of her bra where her heart beat with violent punches. He had to feel it.

  Then he placed his thumb over her navel and rotated his fingers across her lower belly, brushing the top of her pants to draw a half circle on her skin. He stepped closer, his voice a low, indistinct chant.

  She tore her gaze from his and tried to ignore the heavy draw of his body. The need to back away warred with an insane want to press closer. She couldn’t shake the powerful allure that drew her to him. The way his shoulders glistened in the firelight, smooth and taut. The urge to reach out and touch him burgeoned in her mind.

  Shaking the thought away, she returned her gaze to his mesmerizing stare.

  His eyes never left hers as the sound of the tribe reached a crescendo. Whatever spell his gaze had wrought eased. He raised his hand, and to her utter horror, the men of the tribe started to come forward.

  Lost in her stupid imaginings, she’d almost forgotten the danger around her. Now, it looked as if she might pay the price. The strange behavior of the men coupled with the torching of her hair did not bode well. This was it. She shook her head again, noticing the slight daze reflected in his pupils. The water! He’d laced it with something. He’d drugged her!

  Fury crashed through the drug’s effects—somewhat—and she jerked back. His gaze followed her movements when she reached into her pocket and pulled her knife free. Wrapping both hands around the handle, she pressed the tip against his chest directly over his heart. “No!”

  Silence surrounded them. The other men stopped where they stood. Tarzan-man barely glanced at the knife pressed to his skin. No telling signs of fear, no attempts to move. Then by slow degrees, he lifted his head until their eyes locked.

  Anger. Absolute fury laced his icy glare. Her entire body trembled, and she knew her legs would give out at any moment. She pressed the knife closer until it made an indention in his skin. “Please, don’t hurt me. I’m here to help.”

  With stunning speed, he grabbed her wrist. He twisted until her fingers burned, keeping the pressure firm as he tipped the knife back. The blade dropped from her numb hand to land harmlessly on the jungle floor.

  He didn’t release her wrist. Instead, he dragged her close. His other hand wrapped around the end of her hair, tugging her head back. She had no choice. She had to look at him.

  “That was unintelligent, woman.”

  “I had to try someth—” Her breath caught in stunned silence.

  His English was…nearly perfect.

  Chapter Three

  Damon groaned. Time would be his enemy. The white woman’s presence meant trouble. More intruders were sure to follow, and that he could not accept. He had to protect his tribe.

  He took her momentary shock as the opening he needed. Grabbing her around the legs, he tossed her over his shoulder. The intention was not to knock the wind from her, but he had expected her to weigh more than a spider monkey. She dangled over his back, seemingly stunned. With a quick nod to the others, he grabbed a pillar torch before walking toward the dark jungle.

  The marking ceremony would keep her safe until he could figure out what to do with her. But with unrest among his people and the reign of outsiders closing in on their land, his tribe no longer lived in peace. The presence of an outsider, no matter the gender, could undermine his authority even more.

  The fact that he had given her his protection before his people would cause enough discord. He had not missed the shared glances of several of the tribe’s more violent faction. Already they questioned his decisions in council, spoke more freely than ever before to the elders. This woman’s appearance, and his subsequent protection, would be brought before the elders as well. No matter. He could not agree to kill a woman. Outsider, enemy, or not.

  Of course, she need not know that.

  Questions warped his mind. Making his way through the trees, he paced out his burdened thoughts. How was it possible that another woman could stumble into their existence? Had not this very thing happened years before? If not for that strange occurrence, he would not exist. Would this woman be similar to the one before her? Dropped into their world, where she might never be free to leave?

  Somehow, he doubted it. A threat followed. She wore the same mark on her clothing as those intent on killing his tribe, and like his father before him, he would deter any attempts at contact by the outside world. A world determined to obliterate his people.

  “Put me down!” Her strangled yell broke into his musings.


  Irritation settled in his chest. Her twisting and turning preceded the now escalating pitch to her words. He ignored her, wishing for nothing more than to reach his cot and find the peace only sleep would bring. A night of rest would give him the answers he needed for the difficult day sure to follow.

  “You don’t need to do this.”

  The firelight receded with each step he took and dark enclosed the area. The torchlight was not necessary to find his way, but the woman would find the blackness of the jungle terrifying. That was if she stopped pummeling his back long enough to notice.

  Her voice rang desperate. “Please, let me go.”

  A dull ache started low in his back, though not from her weight. The fists she continued to pound into his spine were taking their toll. “You will find yourself hung from a tree by your ankles if you do not cease your abuse.” He punctuated the threat by shaking her a bit.

  “Put me down and I will.”

  He had no intention of complying with her demands, and if her fists landing against his back with renewed vigor were any indication, she did not intend to submit either. For a small woman, she had strength, but he had little patience for her behavior.

  Without warning her, he dropped her from his shoulder. “You will stop.” He slammed the end of the tall torch into the ground next to her foot. Grasping her shoulders, he forced her to look at him in the meager light. “If you do not, I will leave you where you stand, at the mercy of the jungle.”

  Her eyes widened, darted around, then settled back on his. She clutched at the lapels of her torn shirt with a white-knuckled grip. He almost laughed at her fear. It was there in abundance. Determination mingled in the blue depths and with a shaky breath, she raised her chin in a defiant manner. “Then leave me.”

  She could not be serious. The hard set of her lips contrasted with the trembles racking her body, but she did not budge. Stubborn. With a shrug, he turned and walked away.

  Whatever devil took over, he did not know, but it made him call back, “Do not go close to the trees. The chunchabe build webs between them.” He paused for a moment, letting her fear process the information. “The bite is deadly. You probably will not feel much pain after your body ceases to function. Though I do not know if there is actual pain. No one has ever survived long enough to ask.”

  He managed not to turn around and witness her gasp. If she recognized his enjoyment of her capitulation, she was certain to react. If she was foolish enough to remain behind, then he would have to take her by force. The less-than-soft shuffling from behind told him she followed, as did the light from the torch.

  “What is a—choonchaby?”

  He slowed his pace as she came closer. “A native arachnid.”

  She said nothing, but he noticed she shifted away from any tree they passed and the unrelenting urge to laugh clogged his throat. “The chunchabe are startled by loud, unnatural noise, so you should try to walk without mimicking the sounds of a large herd of elephants.”

  Her entire body went rigid. “What do they look like?”

  “Brown, with a red slash across their back. Near this.” Holding up his hand, he spread his fingers wide. Maybe a bit of an exaggeration.

  A visible shudder crossed her shoulders, her mouth scrunched in disgust. “Please tell me that includes the legs and all.”

  He enjoyed her discomfort—and her fortitude. “No. The legs add another hand length.”

  “Great. You’d think monstrous, deadly spiders would have been mentioned before I was assigned to your tribe.” Her voice rang soft in the relative silence that surrounded them.

  “Assigned?” He stopped walking. He did not like the thought that she had been sent specifically to find them. “For what purpose?”

  Myla cringed at the anger in his voice. “No purpose, really.”

  Shit.

  “Yet you said you were sent to find us?”

  She bit her tongue. Nothing like setting yourself up as the enemy. Maybe if he hadn’t drugged her and her head didn’t feel like it was full of cotton, she might have thought the statement through. Now she’d have to manage some damage control. “Not exactly. I chose to help.”

  Glancing over her shoulder at a nearby tree, she ran a mental tally on which scared her more—the man or the spider. Shifting forward, she decided it was definitely the spider. Then, Tarzan-man’s hands came up to rest on his hips, and his eyebrows knit together over those beautiful green eyes. Angry green eyes, to be more precise.

  One more tally to him.

  “I do not want to play riddles with you. Why are you here?” When she said nothing, he moved closer until every word he said caressed her cheek. “You can tell me, or I will take you to see Oruminoch.”

  Damn. Why hadn’t she paid closer attention to John’s discoveries? He’d had so much information logged about the tribe, but she’d only scanned his works, focusing on the social aspects of the tribe instead. She’d never even been in the field. Stupid.

  Though in her defense, she’d never planned to get to know the jungle on this intimate of a level. And losing John had clouded her judgment from the moment he’d disappeared. Blinded by love and all that foolishness…

  She shied away from his intimidating stance—a bit. Another tree stood behind her, after all. The damn spider homes were everywhere. “After the last explanation you gave, I’m almost afraid to ask what an ori-yum-nack is.”

  Even in the near blackness, she could see the smile that tugged at his mouth. “Or-um-i-noch. He is the wisest in the tribe. He has powers that will make you talk.” He punctuated the words with a quick wave of his hand in front of her face.

  She crossed her arms over her chest in disbelief. He had to be lying. “That’s not possible.”

  “You wish to tempt me?”

  Tempt him? Good Lord, no. “Can’t you take me out of here?” It was a long shot. “You can blindfold me. I promise I mean you and your people no harm. I just want to go home.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  She really didn’t think it was possible, but he came closer. The scent of his skin overpowered the fragrance of exotic flowers and foliage surrounding them. Warm, musky, almost…spicy. His chest moved in rhythm with his heavy breaths, the muscles in his arms jumping as he flexed his fingers. She wondered if he would wrap those hands around her neck. It almost seemed that he wanted to. Hugging her arms tighter, she held her shirt together at the throat.

  “Greed-filled men have invaded our land for too long. They force themselves on our women, kill our sons and destroy everything in their path. I would have to leave my people to take you to safety.” A frustrated shrug lifted his shoulders. “And I have no guarantee that you will not lead more here in your place.”

  His words were true and another sad reality remained beyond his knowledge. Whether she stayed or left, others would follow. “I would never bring anyone that wants to harm you or your tribe. Some people wish to help.” She waited until he looked at her again and placed a hand to her chest, willing him to understand. “I am one of them.”

  Before she knew what happened, he pushed her back, pinning her against a tree. Bark scratched at her skin through her shirt. Thoughts of the spider sparked uncontrollable panic and she struck his chest in her struggle to move away from the creature’s potential domicile.

  His hands clasped around her wrists, jerking her forward into his arms. The anger in his eyes burned bright. “You are not here to help me or my people. Those that have come before you brought illness and death with them.”

  She struggled in his grasp, terrified to be so close—terrified by the heated reaction of her skin to the contact. “Please, you have to believe me.”

  “No, I do not.” His free hand came up to pull her gaping shirt closed. She looked down as his fingers crossed the embroidered patch above her nametag. The heat of his fingers brushing over the thin cloth caressed the swell of her breast as surely as if he’d touched her bare skin. “This symbol tells me more than I wa
nt to know.”

  She looked at the black-and-green InterCorp insignia. Its gold border shone bright in the torchlight. “That doesn’t mean what you think it does.”

  His lips thinned and the pressure on her arm increased. “This mark means death, destruction. Anyone wearing it is our enemy.” He flipped her name badge over and tugged sharply, ripping it from her pocket. Staring at the picture, he held it up for a moment before crushing it in his fist. “My staff is decorated with these.”

  “What do you mean?” She wasn’t certain she wanted to know.

  “This is my land, my home and that of my people. Those who enter, intent upon harming them, will die.” He shrugged and flung her nametag to the ground. “I, and my father before me, gave every opportunity for a peaceful resolution. Your people, the men wearing that symbol, came into our lands and killed our people. Now I will protect our lives at all costs.”

  “The men from InterCorp? You murdered them?”

  He nodded. “If that is how you will see it, then yes.”

  “There is no other way to see it!” Constant fear of attack or death would make a person do anything, but she couldn’t condone killing. The engineers and scouts for InterCorp were doing their jobs, often under the falsehoods spread down to them by the higher-ranking officials in the corporation. The men in charge at InterCorp were responsible.

  “There is only one way for you to see it, when you are one of them.” His fingers slid up to the back of her neck, pinning her against him. “Your men kill my people, and you condone their actions above mine? You think I should not protect my people?”

  “I do not condone killing of any sort, for any reason, by anyone. I despise the destruction of human life in any form.” She twisted her body, hoping to catch him off guard even briefly. She needed space, for safety, for perspective robbed by the drug.