Primitive Nights (3 page)

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 want 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.

“Why are you willing to die so they can steal our land, cut our trees and suck the ground dry with their monstrous machines?”

“I don’t work for them, and I’m not willing to die for anyone.” She sighed. “I, along with several others, actually try to protect tribes like yours, all over the world. Here in Peru, we work against the illegal logging and InterCorp’s ingression on protected lands. The very same lands you claim for your people.”

“You lie,” he snarled, curling his hand into her hair. Something more simmered beneath the fury in his eyes. Something raw and wild. She couldn’t begin to fight his strength. He brought her hands behind her, pinning them with one hand. “You lie like every other intruder.”

She shook her head. “No. Please, you have to believe me.”

“I cannot.”

His fingers traced the dried paint marks on her face, his touch raising ribbons of pleasure in their wake. She hated the lack of control, and jerked away from his touch. “You drugged me.”

“It is
pochila
moss.” He inhaled slowly, his gaze hooded and dark. “It calms the mind and body.”

Fear and anger seemed to counteract some of the drug’s power, but it was hard to retain either emotion when he spoke with such gentle tones. “It makes me feel—strange.”

“You enjoy my touch.” His fingers whispered over her cheek.

She nodded, speechless under his gaze.

“But you do not want to?”

Of course not. And yet, she didn’t want him to stop either. “No.”

“
Pochila
has many uses. For pain. For desire. For peace.”

Desire. The other words made just as much sense, but his slow cadence as he pronounced the word sent heat flowing through her veins. “Why did you drug me?”

“To calm you.”

“What are you going to do to me?”

His hand tightened on her wrists, and he closed his eyes for a moment. That single pause told her more than she wanted to know. He didn’t believe her, and she wasn’t willing to wait around to see if she could convince him otherwise. Instinct took over, and her knee made solid contact with his groin.

The moment his grip slackened, she wrenched free, toppling to the ground in her haste. He sank to the mossy ground, his brows drawn in agony. Coupled with a strangled moan, his suffering gave her pause.

Then she met his steady gaze. Meager torchlight enhanced the fury burning in his eyes, and concern vanished. Running was probably futile. Chances were she was dead either way. He thought she was the enemy. At least the jungle gave some hope.

She struggled forward on trembling legs and took off through the dark. She did her best to avoid the trees, though the sheer population made it nearly impossible. She’d left the torch behind and the dark that engulfed her made it difficult to move quickly. After stumbling over a large stick, she decided to bring it along. She waved it before her. Gaining her freedom wouldn’t do much good if one of those damn spiders attacked.

Damon moved silently, shifting his feet through the moss and decayed leaves, listening to the sounds around him. She continued to move.