Primitive Nights (17 page)

“They will not listen, Myla.”

Tears streaked down her cheeks. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. There has to be another way.”

“I tried,
alogu
.”

She shook her head then stiffened. Her eyes rounded and shudders coursed over her body. “He’s coming.”

Damon turned to find Hounta approaching. “I will have peace until it is time?”

The old man nodded, his eyes locked on Myla. “Yes, for now.”

Myla screamed at the old man. “No. Go away. He will not fight!”

Her voice rose to a panicked level and Damon held her close. “Calm down, Myla. He cannot understand you.”

“Calm?” Her eyes were wide with fear, and she laughed hysterically. “How can I be calm? I don’t care if he understands. You tell him.” She pointed at Hounta. “You! Leave him alone.”

The old man smiled as Myla forced herself before Damon her hands moving out as though she would protect him. He glanced at Damon. “She is—brave.”

“Or foolish.” Damon found a sense of amusement as well in her display. She truly thought she could stop this. Her strength amazed him. She stood tall, facing a brutal tribe, actually yelling demands at them. “Myla, you must stop.”

She spun around to poke her finger into his chest. “I’m tired of this. You men! White, brown, yellow, it doesn’t matter, always it ends in violence.” She turned to Hounta. “You as well, there are any number of options open to you and yet the only one that you will accept is death and destruction. Can’t you see you bring about your own demise?”

Hounta’s brows furrowed. “What does she say?”

Damon sighed and repeated her words, then added, “She does not often keep her opinion to herself.”

The old man shook his head. “You should punish her. That would teach her to hold her tongue in the place of men.”

“It was not how she was raised.” Damon chuckled and quickly realized it was not a good idea.

Myla balked, tears pouring down her cheeks. “You find this funny?” Her hand shot out with incredible speed and the loud crack as her hand connected with his cheek caused a shocked hush to grip the tribe.

Damon held motionless. He deserved it. But now he had to do something in retaliation. The Hountas might consider him weak, but if he did not react, they would be assured. With a heavy heart, he grabbed her arm and forced her to her knees. She cried out from his rough treatment but Damon ignored it—and the accusation in her eyes.

He kept his voice harsh, so the tribe would think he reprimanded her. “Myla, what you have done would require that I punish you. Severely.” He let his words take hold in her mind. When her eyes widened a fraction, he knew he had her attention. “If I don’t, I show extreme weakness that could make getting us out of here that much more difficult. Bow your head. Show me your supplication.”

Her eyes flashed angry, but thankfully, she did as he asked. A low rumble of approval coursed through the onlookers. Her voice was soft as she spoke. “You deserved it for laughing at me, you know.”

“Yes, I know. You can punish me later. For now, your action has created a dangerous situation, and only you can rectify it.” He pulled her closer. “Grab the bottom of my cloth and press it to your forehead.” She started to look up, and he squeezed her arm. “Now, Myla.”

Her hands moved up his legs and she tugged at the cloth. Her knuckles brushed over the muscles of his thighs and he shifted back a bit to avoid the touch. Her fingers wound into the fabric, and she pressed it against her brow, her gaze shifting up to his in anger.

“You’re enjoying this,” she accused.

He had to squash the urge to chuckle. There was no telling what she would do if he laughed again. “I admit to nothing more than finding your position—enticing.”

“You are an ass.” She kept her voice at a low hiss.

Damon sensed the tribe’s acceptance of her acquiescence. “Stand now and follow me.” He turned to Hounta. “Where can I prepare?”

Hounta’s gaze remained on Myla. “Her prostration surprises me.”

“Me as well.”

The old man stared a moment longer then waved a woman over. He gave her directions for where to take Damon and Myla before returning to his hut.

Relief flooded Damon. They would have time to discuss what would happen next. He pulled Myla along and followed the woman to a hut situated at the edge of the camp. Several warriors had followed as well, and they stood guard outside the hut as he dragged Myla inside.

The moment they entered he pulled her close and took her mouth in a hungry kiss. If he was to die today, he would die with her taste on his lips and her touch in his mind.

Myla pushed against his chest. His lips moved over hers with intoxicating heat, but she was angry. He didn’t deserve her kiss after making fun of her. His tongue played along the inside of her lips, and the caress took her breath away. She shouldn’t want this, but oh, she so did.

She wound her hands around his waist to knead the muscles of his back. His hands moved over her as well, hungry, seeking her skin. When his mouth broke away to course down the sensitive skin of her neck, she sighed. He nipped at the tender spot at the turn of her shoulder.

“I’m still mad at you.”

He nodded against her skin. “I know. But not now. I need you.”

“Peace?” She whispered the word, unable to do more when his hand curved over her bottom and pulled her hard against the rugged lines of his body.

“Yes, I need the peace you bring.” He raised his head and framed her face with his hands. “We may not leave here today, Myla.”

The depth of his despair shown in his eyes and the severity of the situation truly lodged in her stomach. Damon’s laughter and easy banter had fooled her into a false sense of security. “You don’t think he’ll let us leave. Do you? Even when you win.”

He shook his head slowly. “Hounta cannot be trusted.”

He could die, for nothing more than a chance. “No, Damon. This can’t happen.” She glanced around. “There must be a way out. We can run, hide.”

He shook his head and dropped his forehead to hers. “There is no way.” His kiss came again, hungry and hot.

He devoured her as his hands worked the knot loose on her shirt. The rough calluses on his palms and fingers moved over her skin. The shirt fell from her shoulders, and he crushed her to him. Their skin met. Myla sucked in a breath at the contact. His touch made everything disappear.

She pressed her lips to his chest, inhaling the scent of his skin. Every hard line begged for her attention, and she tried to touch him everywhere. She was frantic. Her ragged breaths matching his as the thundering of their hearts pounded against each other.

Need seeped into every pore, and her belly knotted with desire. He was so strong, so controlling, and she felt safe under his power. Even with the world against them, with death hovering outside their door, she wanted him. Wanted the feel of his love, his intensity. If she was going to die, if she might lose him, she wanted the memory of him to be her last.

She reached up to trace his lower lip. “Make love to me. Then whatever happens, happens. This will be our goodbye.”

His deep growl echoed through the hut and he pulled her down with him to the earthen floor. The rough ground scratched at her back as he pressed her beneath him. He stripped her clothes away without care or gentleness.

The ferocity of his touches, his deep, demanding kiss would have scared her if they’d never made love before. Now, she knew the intensity of his fear, matched it with her own, tears burning at her eyes.

He could die. They both could die.

He entered her in a swift, deep plunge. Her tears broke free and she clasped him close, crying out at the pleasure of his hard body joined so perfectly with her own. He whispered words she couldn’t understand, soft and filled with emotion.

Her body arched closer to him without thought, meeting his deep, sinful thrusts with unabashed need. She didn’t care who heard. She didn’t care who witnessed. Their last moments before reality plunged them into the nightmare to come would be their own.

Her heartbeat drummed in unison with his, their bodies slick with sweat. Each shift and tremor of his muscular chest brushed against her sensitized breasts, sending out spirals of pleasure that matched the desire simmering deep in her belly.

His kiss deepened until she took his moans inside her. She broke free, panting, begging, wanting his release as much as she needed her own but afraid to find the ultimate pleasure and have this moment end.

His hands framed her face, and he shifted hard, deep, settling his pulsing shaft at her womb. He held still then, his head bowed, body tense as if he struggled for control. Her body was on fire, ready to explode around him. Ready to receive the last vestiges of his loving. But he remained unmoving.

“Damon?”

A heavy breath shuddered free, and he pressed a kiss to her temple. When his dark gaze met hers, she cried out. Pain, anger, torture and despair. So many emotions flickered in the deep green depths. Every emotion she experienced lay open in his steady gaze.

“My
alogu
. My peace.” Then he shifted, leaving her body almost completely before plunging back in hard, demanding strokes. “Do not close your eyes.”

The intense, erotic sharing whisked away control, and the spasms clenched deep in her core. Damon smiled, his eyes hooded, as he pressed on, keeping the rhythm steady. “Your pleasure demands mine.”

Frantic, desperate strokes stole her breath as the orgasm broke in debilitating waves. She felt him thicken and his seed spilled warm inside her, matching her pulses until they both tensed and cried out.

Their heavy breathing filled the hut, interrupted by ugly voices and odd sounds. The scent of the strange camp infiltrated the pleasant aroma of their lovemaking.

The spell broke.

Chapter Twelve

Damon stood and drew her into his arms. With a gentle kiss, he handed her the clothes he’d discarded and waited in silence as she dressed. His warm fingers smoothed over the knot she made in her shirt, and she ducked her head against his chest. She wanted to hide her fear, but it was difficult. “This can’t be the end.”

He turned away. “No. I will defeat Tinjtol.”

Myla stood behind Damon and squeezed her arms around his waist, more scared than she’d ever been. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

He turned in the circle of her arms and cupped her face, dragging his thumb across her bottom lip. “I know. You must trust me. I will protect you.”

The conversations of the people outside of the hut became louder, the excitement palpable. “I trust you. Not Hounta, not Tinjtol. And I don’t want you to do this for me. Your brother will do whatever it takes to defeat you this time.”

His soft chuckle rumbled through her chest. “I have known him my entire life. He is no different today than any other. He has tried to eliminate me since birth.” A soft kiss brushed her temple. “I think my father’s protection is all that saved me from death as a babe.”

Horrified, she leaned back. “What do you mean?”

Damon moved away but the intimacy they shared lingered on her skin. “He has hated me from the moment I was born. It became necessary that I learn to defend myself when I was old enough for him to beat me without reason.”

“Didn’t your parents do anything?”

He shrugged. “Mother tried, but it was in vain. Her way of raising a child was much different than the tribe’s way. Boys who are of age must grow to be strong, capable men, and in learning to defend themselves, they do so. I became
bajluk
for my strength. The elders choose by a man’s merit, not by his birthright.”

To a certain extent, she could understand what he meant, and as odd as it was to have this conversation now, it was the perfect way to keep more sinister thoughts at bay. “Okay, I can accept that. But when it becomes dangerous, I would think something should be done.”

A broad smile eased the hard lines of his face. “If I had not learned to defend myself, it would not have helped me to become strong.”

“I guess out here that makes some sense. My mother would have grounded me—taken all of my privileges—for weeks, months even, if I had treated my brother that way.” Her heart ached at the thought of Connor and her mother. Would she ever see them again?

Damon pulled her close and nuzzled the skin of her neck. “Our worlds are so different. I wonder at the fate that gave you to me.”

Fear raced through her. They stood in an enemy hut, where only moments ago they’d made staggering, intense love, and now… She didn’t want to think of what was to come. Her arms tightened. “I do believe in fate.”

He chuckled before his lips met hers in a gentle kiss. Tears formed in her eyes with the emotions that welled in her heart. This was too much. Walking away when the time came for her to leave would be difficult enough, but she couldn’t bear the thought of his death.

She broke away, her tears falling freely. “I don’t want you to do this. There has to be another way.”

His smile was sad and he brushed her cheeks with his knuckles, his gaze settling on the damp remnants on his skin. “Do not cry,
alogu
. My love. Stay here. I will return to you.”