Primitive Nights (12 page)

The intensity of her awareness of him made it hard to breathe. Each touch and brush of his skin set her senses to tingling, and her body warmed. She wanted him, his touch, his wildness. She couldn’t take much more of this.

And then he stopped. His hand moved away, and her blurry eyes focused. She covered her mouth. Tears stung the corners of her eyes.

The land dipped into a lush valley, where exotic ferns and climbing vines blanketed the ground. A tiny brook slithered through the foliage, dampening the rocks and wood that tumbled into it at nature’s design.

Innumerable creatures scuttled along the ground and clung to the foliage, their colors as sharp and contrasting as the brilliant flowers spread out in mesmerizing patterns.

Beyond the valley were layer upon layer of high green hills, with trees so thick and lush their tops resembled grass fields. The hills stretched for miles and met with the azure blue of the midday sky. No clouds broke the blanket of blue, but birds of all colors and sizes dotted through it like an ocean painting.

“Oh, Damon. This must rival the heavens.”

He nodded. “It is wondrous.”

She hugged him impulsively and his arms tightened around her in response. “Thank you. I will always remember this.”

Their eyes met and she read the sadness in the deep green. “I will as well. It has never held such meaning as it does sharing it with you.”

Her heart constricted. Had sweeter words ever been spoken? She tucked closer to his strong embrace. This would all end too soon. A flutter of color behind Damon caught her attention.

“Look!” She smiled and pointed over his shoulder. “More
maliki
birds.”

He didn’t turn. His hand moved up through her hair in a sweet caress so out of place in this wilderness that her heart ached.

“I like your hair.”

Heat, heat, and more heat. What she wouldn’t give for a cold shower. There was no pretense with him. His body told her exactly what he thought, what he wanted. “Thank you.”

He lifted her hair to his mouth and brushed the strands over his lips. “So soft.”

Her heart nearly beat through her chest. “Damon?”

He inhaled deeply, the press of his chest searing through her. “We should go.”

“Yes, I suppose.” With a deep breath to calm her nerves, she let him take her hand again. But it took some time before her heart stopped racing. If he knew what his touch and his eyes did to her…goodness.

Dark was closing in fast when Damon put the last frond in place. Sweat glistened on his skin, trickling over the muscles and lines of his back. Myla licked her lips, squirming from the heat just watching him created.

He turned to her and smiled. “Your home for the night.”

She stepped closer with a grave nod. “Amazing.”

It wasn’t and he knew it as well as she did, but the thought of him making shelter for her was too sweet to tease him about. “I’m certain to sleep tonight.”

“Good. Now what do you have in your bag to eat?”

Food. She might not be able to build a decent shelter or save them from angry tribesmen, but food she could do. While he’d slept she’d picked an assortment of berries, fruits and different foliage she was pretty sure were safe. She’d picked a few she didn’t recognize as well, knowing Damon could tell her for certain. She dumped the contents of her bag on a flat rock and sat down to remove her boots. “I don’t know which of these ones are edible, so you’ll have to pick through.”

The damp scent of moss rose from the ground along with an earthy, pungent aroma. At one time, the scents would have seemed noxious, but now, they were pleasant, familiar. Maybe he was right about the jungle becoming a part of her. It all seemed less scary, less strange now.

He sat down across from her, sifting through the vegetation. Her eyes followed his strong hands. Every inch of his body drew her attention. From his muscular thighs and trim hips to the curved hollows at his collarbones. Without the beads and other decorations he’d worn the first night she’d seen him, he was much less intimidating. Or perhaps like the jungle, she was getting used to him.

While he looked over the food, she let her gaze move across the length of his powerful arms. Had he held her so gently only hours before? She knew the strength he possessed, had experienced it numerous times. But for him to have the ability to control that wild, untamed part of him amazed her. Almost as much as her own want for his touch, his kiss…and more. When she looked up from her perusal, his gaze met hers.

“H-how is your head?” she stammered. The day of travel must have taken its toll, though as usual, he showed no signs of weakness. His leg was healing slowly, and she marveled at his stamina.

“I can tolerate the ache.” He smiled, and the simple turn of his lips created a shiver of desire. The distant rumble of thunder reached down through the trees in ominous warning. “It will rain soon. Here.”

Several fruits and berries lay in his outstretched palm and she took them, letting her fingers linger. “It’s a good thing you could make a shelter.”

“A man is only worth his strength during adversity.”

She popped several sweet berries into her mouth and chewed them thoughtfully. “You actually believe that, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I don’t think you have to worry about that.” She glanced at their shelter. “You’re pretty capable.”

“Thank you.”

His monotone answers, and the way his gaze shifted over her body sent butterflies dancing in her stomach. She needed to stay distracted. “Now, how is your head really feeling?”

“It will heal.”

“You said that already.” The clipped, quick responses were setting her nerves on edge. What the hell was wrong with him? “You seem distracted.”

His gaze shot up to meet hers. “Watching you eat distracts me. Watching you move distracts me. Your scent distracts me, Myla. I want to touch you, taste you. I want to feel your body close to mine. I am distracted.”

Myla swallowed hard. Would his honesty ever stop surprising her? God, she needed to change the track of this conversation or she’d be begging him to do everything he’d mentioned.

With a deep, calming breath, she bit her lip. “There were books in your hut. Did your mother teach you to read?”

“Yes.” His gaze stayed full-on her, never wavering. He didn’t want to talk. She could see it in his eyes. But to his credit, he answered. “And I am glad she did. The stories I read taught me her world. Her books connected me with the other half of who I am.”

There was a touch of sadness in his voice, and it stopped her just shy of popping another berry in her mouth. “Half? You can’t define yourself by where you come from, or what ethnicity you are. You’re a man, nothing more.”

“I might be a man, but in my tribe, I am also half white.” He shifted closer, his hand closing around her own to bring the forgotten berry to his lips. Their warmth brushed her fingertips, and she bit back a gasp as frissons of heat rolled through her arm.

With a smile, he leaned back against a tree and stretched his legs out before him. “Would I not be considered only half by your people?”

She wanted desperately to say no, but he would see it for the lie that it was. “You would,” she admitted. It seemed prejudice could be found in any people. Poking through the berries, she rolled a mango aside. “I’d love to have this.”

With deft skill, he peeled and sliced the fruit with a sliver of a palm frond base. His ability to use the jungle’s amenities would never cease to amaze her. She inhaled deep. There was little that smelled as delicious as fresh mango. Then he lifted a piece to her mouth. The sweet, exotic aroma of the fruit mingled with his enticing scent, and she retracted her previous thought. Damon and mango. Definitely her new favorite.

The urge to taste the fruit on his fingers made her light-headed and she opened her mouth. The sweet taste exploded across her tongue, but it didn’t compare to the flock of those damned butterflies he repeatedly unleashed in her stomach. With a shaky breath, she smiled. “I love mango.”

His heated gaze moved over her lips. Her breath became choppy the longer he stared. When he leaned closer to brush his lips over hers, she didn’t care how he knew she wanted his taste, she was damned thankful for it.

His lips moved with exquisite tenderness until she shook with the need for more. Sliding her fingers over his cheek and ear, she wound them through his thick hair, urging him closer. She breathed in his growl, and it matched the deep rumbles of thunder closing in on them. At that moment, the skies could have opened up in torrents. Nothing would break the spell they’d created.

His kiss consumed her, filling an emptiness she’d ignored for far too long. When he pressed her back without breaking their connection, she went gladly. His body nestled close, the heat of his skin burning every spot it touched until her nerves exploded.

His mouth moved hungrily down her neck, nipping at her flesh only to soothe the gentle bites with long, sensual sucks that turned her insides to liquid. She heard herself cry out as if from a distance, and she slid her arms around to run her fingers along the sinewy muscles lining his spine. He growled against her neck, and both hands came up to cup her face.

Darkness settled around them like the shift in his thoughts. “My mind and my body war for the right thing to do. I am half a man by birth, destined to live among my father’s people. I have nothing to offer, nothing but an uncertain future and something that exists between us. Your touch brings me peace.” His lips brushed over hers again. “And I cannot deny what I want. Will you have me for this night?”

He was giving her the choice. Hard, primitive, untamed Damon. Maglayo.
Bajluk
to his tribe. And he lay trembling in her arms, his heated, needy body pressed to hers, asking her to decide. There was no doubt she wanted him. More than air. He offered himself as nothing more than a man. The man she needed, if only for one primitive, passion-filled night.

Any future he had was uncertain. It showed in his eyes. The guilt, the pressure of his people, the need. But when he touched her, held her, everything disappeared. For him as well, if she read him correctly. She brought him peace in his uncertain world.

Her fingers moved of their own volition to brush over his lips. She traced the high arc of his cheek and the thick lashes of his deep green eyes. No pretense, no deception. Yes, she would have him, for as long as they could be together.

With a light kiss to his forehead, she reached down and pulled the knot in her shirt free. His eyes followed the movements of her hands as she spread the fabric. “Let’s bring each other a night of peace.”

His eyes closed on a deep sigh and his mouth met hers.

Chapter Nine

Damon pressed deeper into the kiss, wanting to show her the depth of his need and touch every portion of her until she cried out beneath his hands.

The desire she stoked inside him was staggering. Never had he felt such intense need, such desperate desire. His body hardened in reaction to her sighs of pleasure as he delved into her mouth, demanding her response. She tasted warm, sweet, more intoxicating than the sensual flesh of a passion fruit. Her hands moved over his body, setting little fires beneath his skin that raced down to his stomach where they settled like warm water.

His reaction shocked him. The sheer ferocity of it. He had to know that he and he alone filled her mind. “This man you love? Does he live in your mind and your heart when I touch you?”

Tears pooled in her eyes, and he immediately regretted the question.

“He died a year ago and will always hold a place in my heart.” Her hand came up to caress his cheek. “I loved him deeply, but when I think of him now, it is with happy memories and the knowledge that he is in a better place.”

Damon closed his eyes. He had no right to ask anything of her. “I am sorry you lost him. I do not wish to make you sad.”

“I don’t blame you for your questions.” She bit her lip uncertainly before continuing, “Is there someone you love?”

“There is no one.”

“You’ve never found someone you wish to spend your life with?” She traced a finger over his eyebrow, her eyes following its path. “Or do you even have marriage? When we studied your tribe, we saw ceremonies but never understood what the relevance was. What happens in your tribe when two people wish to marry—join—become a couple?”

This was not a conversation he wanted to have. Pressed so close to her body with their heartbeats mingled, the last thing he wanted to do was discuss tribal customs. The genuine interest in her gaze and the way her fingers kept drifting over the sensitive skin of his neck pulled the words from his mouth against his wishes.

“We speak with the elders and ask for blessings for our union.”

“Blessings?”

He ran his fingers over the smooth skin between her breasts, and unable to resist, pressed his lips to the warm flesh. “For ample food and strong children…” he followed the curve of her neck with his lips, “…everlasting peace…” nipped lightly at her shoulder before he smoothed over the spot with his tongue, “…and passion in our hearts to bind us for the ages.”

“Oh.”

Her softly whispered response fueled his need. “Is this the same as when you marry?”