Primitive Nights (35 page)

She heard the soft keen of the
maliki
, his good-luck bird. The beautiful feathers in a startling array of coloring and shades…

She shook her head. The cry was so real. It came again, and she looked up. John stood behind her, his body close. “Myla—”

The shift in the trees was barely perceptible, but she reacted. Dropping to her knees, she rolled to the side as Damon rushed from the jungle. John didn’t have a moment to react before Damon gripped his throat between his fingers and pushed him back to the very edge of the cliff.

Too late, she realized Damon hadn’t seen the gun. She cried out, but John had already pulled it free. Damon knocked his arm away, and the gun dangled from John’s fingertips. Another heavy blow from Damon’s hand sent it tumbling to the ground.

In the same breath, John slammed his fist into the side of Damon’s head. It caught him off guard enough that he lost his grip on John’s throat. Both men fell, grappling for the weapon.

Myla watched in horror as they neared the edge of the cliff. She couldn’t get near them, couldn’t do anything but watch in stunned silence. Would Damon even know what to do if he gained control of the gun?

She pushed up and grabbed a stick. When Damon rolled away, leaving John exposed, she brought the stick down across his back. There was no way she was going to stand by and let this happen.

The next time she swung, John managed to roll the other way and her stick landed hard against Damon’s thigh. Horrified, she jerked back.

Damon yelled, “Myla, get out of here, now!”

Like hell.

The men continued to wrestle each other, their grunts and curses echoing through the trees. When John caught Damon’s chin with his elbow it stunned him. John climbed over onto his back and slipped an arm around his neck.

John clasped his hand around his other wrist, and the exertion he place on Damon’s throat made the veins bulge at his temple. He laughed then. “Your jungle man is weak.”

Myla stepped forward, but Damon’s smile stopped her. In a flurry of graceful motion, he rolled, tucking his legs beneath him as he pushed back against John’s weight. John had no choice but to go along with the momentum unless he wanted to let go. Both men fell backward.

She screamed as they landed hanging halfway over the edge of the cliff. She ran forward and grabbed at Damon’s ankle. The shared weight of the men pulled them farther down and John’s body rolled up and over Damon’s until he hung from Damon’s neck.

Myla crawled forward and straddled Damon’s legs. She could see John’s face, and he smiled a little. “Guess this is it.”

Damon ducked his head and John’s hands slipped over it. Before he could drop, Damon’s hand clamped down on his arm and held him.

Shock registered on John’s face. Myla took a deep breath. “He doesn’t wish to kill you, John. But you have to know, everyone knows now. I had the phone connected to E.I while we spoke, and the list of names Mr. Harrison mentioned, I got them from his office. They all know.”

“And my partners think I ratted them out.” John shook his head. “Then I have nothing to go back to.”

“Hold on.” Damon grunted, his muscles flexing with the strain of holding John’s weight. “Myla he’s slipping.”

“Let go.” John heaved out a sigh. “I’m dead either way.”

“Don’t, Damon.” She stared at John. The man he’d been in the past still echoed in the deep blue of his eyes. “John, think about what you’re doing. You can make this right.”

He shook his head. “Let go, Damon.”

Damon’s body shook beneath her with his effort. Then John let go. There was nothing holding him but Damon’s own strength. “I cannot hold him, Myla.”

John slipped one of his hands free and reached into his pocket. He flipped open the switchblade and aimed it directly at Myla. “Let go or I throw it.”

Damon held tight and John released the blade.

She closed her eyes as the knife sailed through the air, ducking her head against Damon’s back. Then the world tilted beneath her. They were falling. John’s ragged, fading yell blended with her own scream, and she rolled gently to the solid ground.

Shocked, she opened her eyes to find Damon slumped next to her. The lines of his face were strained with regret. “I could not hold on.”

She looped her arm over his chest and pushed up to caress his face. His heart pounded beneath her arm. He was alive, she was alive. It was over.

“He didn’t want you to save him.”

Damon nodded and closed his eyes. “I thought I had lost you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Myla pressed her lips to his.

The small smile that curved his lips touched her heart. “I love you, Myla. I do not wish to live without you.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Myla set her bags down on the kitchen counter. The crunch and splintering of wood drifted through the window. She stood on tiptoe to look in the backyard.

Her eyes followed the sinewy bunch and flex of muscle as Damon swung the axe over his head splitting a large log. When he leaned over to toss the pieces into the pile, she smiled. His loose jeans hung low across his slim hips, and the bottoms were rolled up almost to his knees.

His shirt had been discarded sometime during his chore, and his damp skin glistened in the sunlight. He swiped away the sweat that beaded across his forehead with the back of his hand before reaching for another log.

It had been three weeks since John’s death. Three weeks of travel between the tribe’s new settlement and the small piece of land she and Damon now called their own. Three weeks of healing for them both. It still made her sick when their matching scars reminded her of what they’d been through. The stab wound Tinjtol had given Damon had healed nicely, while hers would take time. The doctor had said the muscles were damaged by the bullet, but in time, and with physical therapy, the limp would fade.
 

Everything had changed so drastically. She glanced at the house’s interior. It wasn’t much. A loft bedroom, kitchen, one bathroom. Set between the city and Damon’s tribe’s location, it was the perfect agreement of their worlds.

Her new position as E.I.’s human rights advocate was going well, and the organization had offered Damon a tribal liaison position. He was good at it too. Tribes they previously wouldn’t have been able to get aid to now accepted Damon as their friend.

The simplicity in which they lived worked well for both of them, and today, they would bind their lives together before his tribe. She couldn’t wait. Nothing would make her more proud than to call Damon her
kalhcon
, her mate.

After putting the groceries away, she stepped out onto the back porch to watch him. He turned after a moment, his smile creating a knot in her stomach. God, the way he looked at her. The nights they’d spent in each other’s arms came rushing back with ferocious demand. Would she ever have enough of this man?

She hoped not.

Excitement swelled as he dropped the axe and walked toward her. Dark green eyes roamed over her body as he neared. He licked his lips, and even though she was certain he hadn’t meant for it to entice her, it did.

“I missed you.”

“I’ve barely been gone an hour.” She laughed.

With a slight shrug, he reached for the water bottle sitting on the steps. “Too long.”

He took a long drink before rubbing the bottle across his forehead. The water left streaks on his skin and she walked closer to wipe the smudges away with her sleeve. “You are filthy.”

Walking up the remainder of the stairs, he leaned close. “Want to clean me up before we leave?”

Myla moaned. Yes, yes, and yes again. “I don’t think we have time.”

He pressed closer and she took a step back, and then another until he followed her into the house. When they passed through the door, he looped an arm around her waist and turned until he pinned her against the wall. “What could be more important?”

His lips pressed to hers briefly before moving across her chin and down her neck. She sighed. What indeed? This hadn’t been her intention, but it was a great outcome. “Until the generator is ready and we have a shower, I guess I can help you wash.”

His teeth closed over her skin with a gentle tug and warm ribbons of desire spiraled through her body. “After.”

Her breath caught as his hand slid up the back of her thigh and pinned her against his hard arousal. “After what?”

He chuckled. “If you have to ask, we have not done this enough.”

Without another word, he scooped her into his arms and carried her up the stairs.

No, not nearly enough.

There was no gentleness in his lovemaking. He was wild, frantic, and she matched his need, giving as much as she took until the fire he stoked deep within her burst on incredible waves of sensation, and she cried out with the intensity of it.

The passion they shared was unmatched. Nothing she’d ever experienced could have prepared her for the deep connection they shared, or the fullness in her heart. The love that filled her was amazing, scary, as consuming as he was.

She slid her fingers down his back. “You can’t keep me here indefinitely, you know. There are things outside this bedroom that we must do.”

“Are there?” He smiled and rolled to bring her over him. “I can and will keep you here for as long as I desire. You are my prisoner.”

“Wild brute.” She teased and shifted against him.

His eyes lingered over her bared breasts. “Only with you.”

“The news is on soon, then we’ll have to get going.” She kissed his chest before glancing up. “As much as I would like to stay as we are for the rest of the day, I really don’t want to be late.”

The scent of their lovemaking lingered in the quiet loft. The tangled bed sheets were in a puddle on the floor. Her hair was a mangled mess, her soft body slick with the heat of their joining. Still deep inside her body, Damon wondered if there was another moment that could compare. He pulled her close, the pressure in his chest almost unbearable. To love someone with such depth. It touched the soul.

But she was right. Today was not a day to be late. Pushing the hair back from her face, he brushed his lips over hers. “A few more moments will not harm.”

She nodded, her eyes dark with desire. His body jerked in response.

A sensual smile curved her lips as his body swelled within her. “Maybe a little more than that?”

“For as long as you will let me keep you here.” He shifted beneath her, groaning when she moved down, taking him deeper. The heat of her body surrounded him. When her tongue traveled over his bottom lip, he knew he was lost.

“
Today there were three more arrests in the InterCorp Oil scandal. Peru’s President Bendowin has promised to prosecute all parties involved in the theft of oil and the cruel mistreatment of native tribal members. He has further stated that new, stricter laws will be enforced for the future oil companies who wish to drill on this land.

“The stunning allegations of corruption that surfaced two weeks ago by the vice president of InterCorp have set off a chain of arrests, including the president of InterCorp and several long-standing members of the government. Mr. Harrison attributes his findings to a quiet, unsung heroine who wishes to remain anonymous.

“Today’s arrests bring the total thus far to thirteen, and newly appointed Commissioner of Trade, Allan Sharpan, suspects that by the time the investigation is complete, there could be as many as ten more arrests made. We will continue to bring you more on this developing story.

“In other news, the price of—”

Myla clicked the power button and shook her head. “I still can’t believe Carrie was mixed up in all that. She seemed like such a nice person.”

“It is difficult to know with some people.” Damon set the radio aside, a small smile creasing his lips. “After all, the reporters were wrong about you.”

She glanced up from the bag she was packing with food and clothing. “What do you mean?”

He leaned back in his chair. “Quiet heroine? You? I think they should have been here an hour ago. There was nothing quiet about you—”

“Damon!” She planted her hands on her hips. “You are terrible.”

He pushed up from his chair and picked the bag up. “You keep telling me this.”

Her laughter made him happy. “And I will keep telling you that until you get a hold on this newfound humor of yours.”

“Come. It is time.”

The scent of hibiscus drifted through the gathering. An altar had been erected at the end of a long path littered with palm fronds arranged in an arrow-like pattern. Myla could barely contain the tears of happiness that threatened to spill over as she walked toward the rough natural beauty of the ceremonial altar.

Cuklho was waiting to the left of the altar, her hair decorated with tiny flowers. Her dress of the palest animal skin looked lovely against her dark skin. She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the edges.

Seiret, her new husband, was situated to her right. He carried the pride of his two new positions well. Husband and
bajluk
. His dark skin was painted with symbolic marks, his hair and chest draped with the adornments of his new status.