Primitive Nights (15 page)

Her eyes widened before narrowing with determination. When they each had two long branches of thorns, he waved for her to follow. The distinct scent of a fire reached him before the light did, and he dropped to a knee. The woman’s cries were strangled, desperate now. They would have to hurry.

It only took a moment more before he could see three men and then the woman. She lay naked on her side, next to the fire, her hands bound. Bruises marred the skin on her arms and a deep split in her lip bled down over her chin.

Her gaze moved between the men fearfully, but Damon knew the moment she sensed their presence in the jungle. Her gaze shifted in his direction, and he whistled, mimicking the call of the
riklaya
bird.

The woman took a deep breath and settled down. Her breathing calmed, and she closed her eyes. She would be ready, Damon had no doubt. He pressed a finger to his lips and held his hand out for Myla to stay put as he moved around through dense brush to the other side of the fire.

The element of surprise was all they had, and he planned to use it to his full advantage this night. If he could silence even one of the men before the others realized it, his chances would be much better. Fear for Myla made him edgy, and he had to concentrate on each step.

Myla watched him move into the dark. She never would have seen him if she hadn’t known he was there. Each movement was sleek and fluid like a cat, or rather a panther. Cat didn’t do him justice.

He stalked the men, his eyes riveted on them. Primal fear raced through her. This man was wild, untamed. He was an animal, in a sense. His powerful frame moved silently around to the other side of the men’s camp. If they noticed anything amiss, they showed no sign.

One of the InterCorp men stood and threw something into the fire before turning toward the woman. “You sleeping, you lazy slut?”

The woman lay on the ground unmoving, her eyes blank. The man walked over to kick her hard in the ribs. His friends laughed at the action, and bile rose in Myla’s throat. How could anyone be so cruel?

When her attacker dragged the woman to her feet, she glared at him with undisguised revulsion. She stood straight, tall, proud even in the face of the man’s brutality, and a surge of deep respect sliced through Myla. This was bravery unlike anything she’d ever seen. Most women, including herself, would cower under such viciousness.

And she’d thought all her hard work and sacrifice had been brave? It was nothing compared to the elegant pride the woman before her displayed. She would bow to no one. Myla wondered if the woman even felt fear, so strong and silent she stood.

The man holding her recognized the same pride Myla had, and he struck her hard across the face with the back of his hand. “You think you’re better than me, bitch? You’ll think different once I’ve fucked the shit outta ya. Then you’ll have to do my friends too. That’ll knock some of that snottiness out for sure.”

Spittle hung in the man’s straggly beard from his grim tirade and he wiped it away with the back of his hand before crushing the woman’s breast in his grimy fingers. He squeezed so hard the tips of his fingers nearly touched through her flesh. Myla’s chest ached in sympathy. To her utter amazement, the woman remained silent, tears of pain pouring down her cheeks.

Tightening her grip on the branches, Myla tried to find Damon in the dark. What was he waiting for? The man forced the woman to her knees, holding her there while he unbuckled his belt. Myla barely contained a gag when he pulled his flaccid sex from his pants and stroked it suggestively. His crude, descriptive threats became deeper and muffled with his increasing excitement.

They were running out of time.

A soft rustle pulled her attention away from the hideous sight and she covered her mouth when Damon slipped from the jungle. Without a sound, he wrapped his hands around one of the other men’s necks and dragged him backward into the dark.

The man Damon held flailed wildly against the fingers gripped into his windpipe. The pressure made it impossible for the man to even grunt out a warning. He thrashed for a moment longer before he slumped unconscious into Damon’s hands.

She glanced back at the other men, her heart hammering at a violent pace. The third man, who watched the cruel treatment of the woman with a huge smile on his ugly face, didn’t even notice his friend’s abduction, and the man mistreating the woman hadn’t glanced up.

“Hurry up, Jake. I want her when yer done.”

Jake laughed and pushed the woman back onto the ground. Pinning her bound hands over her head, he forced himself between her legs and pushed his pants down farther. He struck her again when she struggled against his hold, and this time a soft cry escaped. The sound flipped a switch inside of Myla. She couldn’t take any more.

The moment Damon emerged from the trees again, Myla moved forward as well, crossing the ground to where Jake readied himself between the woman’s legs. She ignored the silent glare Damon sent her way as he repeated the strange process on the second man. Thank God the woman had chosen to start fighting, otherwise the man would have accomplished his rape before Damon or Myla could help.

He snarled when the woman managed to bash her fists into his head, and his savage retaliation pushed all restraint from Myla’s mind. If he’d had a chance at getting away unscathed, he’d ruined it. She dropped one of her thorn-laden branches and gripped the other in both hands as she walked.

With strength she’d never known she possessed, she swung the branch across the man’s head with every ounce of fury raging through her. His yelp of pain and the way he toppled to the ground gave Myla a moment of relief. The woman was free.

But it wasn’t enough. She followed him as he scrambled across the ground.

His feet tangled in his loosened pants and she brought the branch down across his naked, bulbous ass. He yelled again as the thorns ripped his skin, but she didn’t care. He should suffer for the pain he’d inflicted on the proud woman. And she would make him experience some retribution until Damon could take over.

She chased him across the camp with timely swats until he stumbled and rolled to his back. He held his hands up, begging her to stop, and she raised the branch again. Her breathing stalled as a firm grip closed over her shoulder.

She swung around ready to smash her weapon against another attacker, but she stopped when she met obsidian eyes. The woman stood before her naked, bruises already appearing on her rich cocoa skin. Her eyes were soft but lucid, and the taut lines of her face showed the pain she experienced. And yet she’d stopped Myla from returning the man’s cruelty.

Why? It made no sense for the woman to protect the awful man. “But he hurt you.”

The woman shook her head. Then she reached out and pulled the branch from Myla’s hands. Myla let go, confused. Why wouldn’t this woman want the man to be punished? Tears of frustration welled and fell free down her cheeks. “Then you do it. He deserves it!”

The man scurried off into the bushes.

Damon walked over then and held out one of the InterCorp shirts. He waited for the woman to nod before slipping the garment over her thin shoulders. They spoke quietly and Myla’s frustration doubled.

“Damon, what is she saying?”

The woman dropped the branch and took Myla’s hands. She turned them over and wiped the blood off of her ripped palms with the edge of the shirt. Her long, dark hair shifted as she continued to shake her head.

Myla looked at her hands. Where had the cuts come from? Her sadistic grip on the branch must have pierced the rough wood through her skin, and she hadn’t even felt it. The sting couldn’t be ignored now, however, and she blew on her palms.

The woman’s voice was soft when she spoke, but Myla had no idea what she was saying. “I don’t understand.”

“She does not want violence done against another, for her sake. Even someone so cruel.” Damon’s deep voice brushed over the back of her neck.

Myla spun around and pounded her fist against his chest. “Tell her he deserves no better. Tell her he should be punished for what he did to her.”

Damon gripped her arms. “Myla, she knows. It is her choice.”

Myla shook her head and turned back to the woman. She was slipping her sarong back around her hips, a small smile creasing her features. She glanced at Damon and spoke again.

Damon chuckled. “She wants to know why such a fierce white woman fights for her.”

Myla looked at him. “Tell her she is my sister in humanity. I would expect her to do the same for me. For anyone.”

Damon’s eyes held hers for a long moment. “You truly believe that?”

She nodded. To her very soul. No human deserved to be treated in such a way. “Tell her what I said.”

Damon rattled off a string of incoherent words and the woman’s eyes widened. Then she bowed her head, almost in deference. Myla hated not knowing what they were saying.

The woman stepped forward and took a set of beads from her neck. She placed them over Myla’s head and let them fall against her chest. Then she smiled and whispered, “
Tolginga gahiiti
.”

She turned, and with a slight nod toward Damon, she disappeared into the jungle. Nothing moved. No sound to follow her departure, no rustle of leaves, nothing. Myla shivered. These people moved with incredible stealth.

She turned back to Damon. “What did she say?”

Damon turned her toward the trees. “
Tolginga
means brave, and
gahiiti
is—sister.”

“Brave sister.” She repeated the words several times, deciding she liked them very much. Then she smiled up at Damon. “What did you do to the other men?”

He shrugged and continued to pull her along behind him. “They will not bother anyone else for a while.”

Myla wasn’t sure if she wanted more information and chose to remain silent on that subject for the time being. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the danger of the situation sank in. Anything could have happened to them. “Thank you for saving her.”

Damon stopped and shook his head. “I did not have to do much, my fierce warrior. You seemed to have everything under control with the man that hurt her. You saved her, not me.”

“We saved her.” Still, he was right. She’d helped saved someone’s life. And it was a really good feeling.

He brushed a finger over her eyebrow before his hand dropped to his side. “We.”

The sadness she witnessed before he turned away had a profound effect on her heart. He was a difficult man to understand, but he didn’t say more about what had happened and started walking again.

Myla had to jog to keep up with his quick strides. “Where are we going now?”

He glanced back over his shoulder, his smile bright in the moonlight. “Not far.”

Wait, the moon? She glanced up. They’d walked from beneath the rainforest canopy. Stars glittered in startling array, soaking the sky in midnight blue for miles. The full moon brightened the land until it resembled the hours before dawn.

Crimson and violet battled on the distant horizon as the last vestiges of the sun disappeared. The rush of water whispered to the left and birds began a trilling song in the trees. The world shifted right again. The strangers were gone.

All was calm and Damon pulled her close. “Let me hold you tonight, my brave
alogu
. We have far to go tomorrow and you need rest.”

She nodded. “I would like that.”

His arms moved around her waist, and with gentle pressure he eased her down with him to the soft ground. He smoothed his strong fingers down her back and wrapped them over her hip. “I am proud of you.”

Myla curled close to him, snuggling into his chest. She pressed her cheek to the smooth skin and listened to the soft beat of his heart. His arms tightened, and she knew that he would protect her. The peace that realization brought settled her into the deep folds of sleep.

Damon shook his head. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and he stared at her. Had he thought her weak, unable to protect herself? She had shown amazing strength tonight. Something he really had not thought he would see.

He had also witnessed her weakness. It was not that she tired quickly or that she lacked knowledge of the jungle. Her willingness to sacrifice herself to save another was her true strength and weakness combined.

She should have listened tonight, stayed hidden where she would be safe. Yet she had stormed into the fight without thought, without regard for what could have happened. Even if she had thought of the consequences, she had dismissed them in her need to protect, to help.

It angered him. Deep down inside he still shook from the fear he had felt watching her. The man could have had a weapon. Then what? The urge to shake her coursed through him and he tightened his arms.

She stirred against his chest, her lips moving across his skin. Her breath was warm, and it rustled the hair beneath it until bumps formed along his arms. Even in sleep she aroused him. Her soft body pressing so close. When she tucked her leg through his knees and pressed her hip along the hardened length of his shaft he nearly bolted up from the ground.

Sleep was not going to be his friend for this night.

Curling a finger into her loose hair, he brushed a kiss across her forehead. They would be home in another day, maybe two depending on what other trouble they ran into. There was no doubt she would help him convince the elders to accept help. The true question was, would that end the only way of life he had ever known?