Primitive Nights (20 page)

Then her body stiffened, a beautiful cry of pleasure released from her moist lips as her release poured slick over his heated flesh. Finally, with her body draining his restraint, he let go, following her over the edge into furious pulses of gratification that stole his mind and racked his body.

He held her close, lost in the powerful connection they shared. How was he going to let her go? And if he managed that, how would he sleep at night without her soft body curled next to him and her fingers threaded in his hair?

“Wait. Just wait another moment. I don’t want this to end yet.” Myla watched him, the pleasure in his eyes so apparent she wanted to soak in the moment.

He pulled her close and brushed her lips again. The security she found in his arms astounded her, but it couldn’t temper the fear that suffused her when he spoke. “It is time to go.”

“I know.” She glanced over his shoulder at the encampment below. They’d traveled the entire morning and his excitement had increased the closer they’d come to his home. As much as she wanted to see him happy, she couldn’t completely squash the feeling that everything would change between them the moment they set foot in the camp.

“Do not worry. All will be well.”

His words told her she hadn’t hidden her fear as well as she’d hoped. She gave him a huge smile she wasn’t close to feeling. This was important to him and she wouldn’t let her misgivings dampen his joy. She hugged him quickly and stood back. “I’m ready.”

His hand closed over hers, and she looked down. Their fingers intertwined, her own so pale against the darker coloring of his. Like their worlds. So different. He raised her hands to his lips. “Come.”

His pace was steady as they moved through the jungle. From time to time, he whistled, an odd birdlike sound that returned from other areas around them. Myla shrieked when a warrior stepped from the bushes to fall into place next to Damon. There hadn’t been any indication that the warrior was there, at least not that she’d seen. But Damon had known.

She glanced around, certain there were others hiding in the foliage. It amazed her, really. The scope of their ability seemed unending. Damon’s people were strong, capable. Able to live off the harsh land and survive the dangers inherent in such an existence.

Her own people would never understand how amazing these tribes were. Until she’d spent this time in their presence, she hadn’t known either. It was a knowledge she would have to share. When she left, her efforts in making the government, the world, understand these people’s plight would become her biggest priority.

The moment they broke through into the clearing a loud shout went up. It was followed by more until the entire encampment came alive with joyous cries. Myla’s heart thudded against her chest as his people closed in around them.

Damon was immediately dragged away, but he smiled back over his shoulder. Under his people’s happy voices and shouts he turned to speak with each person in turn, his smile wide. The men and women showed him astonishing deference. Most men would kill for such respect. Damon came by it naturally, and he carried himself with the pride of a leader.

There wasn’t a person who could help the way he drew them in. She couldn’t blame them either. She’d succumbed to it as well. And willingly.

She leaned back against a tree and crossed her arms over her chest. This was where he belonged. His tribe depended on him, needed him to lead them through uncertain times. Their bright eyes and smiles showed the hope they found in his return.

“You came back?”

Myla didn’t turn at Michelle’s voice. “Yes. It seems your son believes I can help.”

“My son has always seen what he wishes to see. Nothing more.”

Anger burned in Myla’s chest. “You don’t give Damon the credit he deserves.”

The woman walked around to stand in front of her and the resentment Myla expected to witness in her expression was absent. Instead, her eyes were wide, her hands clenched together before her. Fear. Michelle glanced at Damon. “Do you think—is he still angry with me?”

Myla shrugged. How odd it was to see this woman with concern in her eyes. She loved her son, of that there was no doubt, but Myla could see it now. She also feared him. Or feared losing his protection. “I don’t know. You will have to speak with him about that.”

Michelle spread her hands out before her. “Do not expect me to apologize for doing what I thought was best for my son and his people.”

Myla stiffened. “I expect nothing from you.”

The woman glanced at Damon again. “But I am sorry that it may have caused you harm. I meant only to do whatever it took to keep my son safe. He is—all I have.”

Any mother would. Myla couldn’t fault the woman for that. “Your son is a strong, capable man. You would do well to trust him, believe in him. He is a leader, not by birth, but by fate. Whatever God you believe in made him a leader. He will know what is right or wrong and will give his life if needed to protect his people.”

The older woman stared at her, the strands of her gray hair drifting across her face. “You love him?”

Myla watched Damon, misery and happiness creating an insistent ache in her stomach. There was little else it could be. Attraction, respect, desire… “Yes. I do.”

“And you will leave him?”

“Not until I’m certain he’ll be safe. I will help in any way that I can.” Myla pushed away from the tree.

She didn’t care to speak with the woman any longer and walked toward Damon. Michelle came up next to him as well, and before Myla could say anything, the older woman pushed forward, wrapping her arms around him. “Thank God you’re safe.”

Damon set his mother back, an odd mixture of emotion erupting in his chest. “I am fine, Mother.” His eyes met and held Myla’s. Sadness laced the blue depths. “You can thank Myla for this. She saved me.”

Something shifted in her expression, and Damon longed to hold her. What had his mother said in the few moments since they had returned? Surely his mother’s caustic tendencies had not caused Myla to regret her decision to return.

“Then I owe her not only the apology I gave but my thanks as well.”

His mother’s churlish tone triggered his protective instincts. “Any apology or statement made should be meant with feeling or not said at all, for as it is said, it rings hollow.”

For a moment, she looked ready to speak. Instead, his mother nodded and turned away. She walked from the circle of people with her back straight and her head high. The woman’s disrespect knew no bounds. He would have to deal with her later, but for now, the elders waited.

Disengaging himself from the tribe members, he closed the distance to reach Myla’s side. He brushed a curl back from her eye and tucked it behind her ear. The soft skin of her neck was exposed by the movement and begged for his kiss. He leaned in slightly before catching himself.

She would have to stand on her own before the elders. He wanted them to understand her, to believe in her as he did, without influence for the reverence of a
bajluk
’s mate. They would have to respect her as he did—by her actions and knowledge.

“I know you are tired, but the elders wait.”

She closed her eyes for a brief moment and nodded. “Then we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

Pride welled deep within him. His woman. The woman who held the key to his people’s survival, and she met the challenges placed before her with hope. “I will stand with you, Myla. Always.”

Chapter Fourteen

Damon stared at Goloruk, trying to control his frustration. He knelt before the elders, willing them to believe in her as he did. “You must listen to her.”

The oldest member of the council of elders inhaled from his pipe before blowing the thick smoke through wrinkled lips. “
Bajluk
Maglayo, you will restrain yourself. There is no reason for this council to listen to the ranting of a woman bred from our enemies.” The others nodded their agreement.

“She tells the truth, Goloruk.” Damon held the old man’s gaze.

Oruminoch, seated to the right, leaned forward and braced his hands on his knees. “You dishonor yourself.” He pointed to Myla and laughed. “Does this white woman sit so well upon your thighs that you endanger us with her presence? She controls your mind through your staff, so you do not recognize her deception.”

Damon stood, unable to tolerate such disrespect for Myla. For years he had feared these men and their power, the intelligence he believed they held. He saw them now as they were. Old men, scared of the changes that would come, holding fast to the old ways, not for the protection of his people, but because they feared the unknown.

“You do not know what you say.”

The men ignored him. Damon walked to Myla and pulled her forward gently. He knew she was afraid, but unless he convinced them to listen, everything they had gone through, all hope for a future of peace, would dissolve beneath their ignorance.

“Listen to what she has to say, that is all that I ask.” The men stared, and Myla tried to move back under their intense gazes. Damon tried again. “Oruminoch, you and I have spoken before. The jungle has changed. Our people will starve if the plants and animals continue to weaken in number. We are invaded, time and again by men who are evil. With our options limited and dwindling, what harm will it do to listen to what she has to say?”

Nothing showed in the eyes of the elders. It was a trait that made them such powerful men. For several moments the men talked quietly among themselves. Then, Oruminoch spoke. “We will listen, but only in respect for the leader you have been.” He paused, his eyes centering on Damon’s. “Know this. There is little she can say that will change what we believe. What ideas she has planted in your mind will decide for us if you have weakened as
bajluk
.”

Damon understood. His leadership was at stake. The elders questioned his ability now that he was swayed by a woman. A white woman.

He knew Myla. He trusted her.

Turning to place a hand on her shoulder, he willed her to understand his pride, his love. “Do not be scared. These men may look formidable, but they mean well. You are their enemy. It will be difficult to convince them of anything other than that.” He glanced at the men seated in silence behind him. He would not wish this task on anyone. If there was another way…

“Damon?”

The shaky whisper of her voice drew him back. “What is it?”

“What if I can’t do it?” She took a heavy breath. “What if they don’t believe me? What happens then?”

This was his struggle. That she would be willing to try was more than he could have asked. Her bravery in coming back with him sat heavy in his mind. Whether they listened to her or not, the outcome for her would remain the same.

He smiled and ran his hand down her arm to squeeze her cold fingers. “No matter what happens, I will take you home.”

She nodded and returned the pressure before letting go and stepping forward to face the men. Pride rippled through his body and seared his heart. This woman, his woman, would change the world with her smile and her kindness. The council would crumble beneath her.

Silence filled the large hut, and Myla let her gaze wander over the intricate carvings and paintings that decorated the walls. The old men before her seemed of one age. Each with numerous beads and feathers adorning their weathered bodies, they sat in stoic, ugly silence.

Their obsidian eyes pierced the mental armor she’d erected around herself for this meeting, and for a moment, the urge to run from the hut almost won out. But Damon needed her. She had to be strong. She had to make them understand.

Clasping her hands together to hide their shakiness, she closed her eyes.
You can do this.
She squared her shoulders and met the cold stare of the council men.

“I am not your enemy, though I understand your reluctance to believe as much.”

Damon’s deep voice translated her words and his presence gave her strength. It poured through her, filling her with calm.

“I cannot blame you for wishing to keep your lives and that of your people as they are now. In my world, the world outside of this one, my people die the same as yours. Children get sick, the old wither to dust. There are murders and atrocities that are unspeakable.

“Battles very much like this one have been fought across every nation, with strong people fighting to keep what was theirs in the face of an enemy’s destruction. We are not perfect, nor do I believe we are any better than you. My people are far from godly. We have taken land, killed those who opposed and waged wars for money and greed.”

Myla sensed the men’s anger, and she expected no less. As yet she’d given them nothing but the worst of her world. She took a steadying breath and realized her heart rate was slowing, her mind settling into a peaceful hope.

“There is a good and bad in every country. Every government, tribe and race has its strength and weakness. You have yours, we have ours. The legacy we leave is the life we have led and what we did with it before our deaths. For your people as well as mine. We are no different.

“But there are those of us who learn from history’s mistakes. There are people, many actually, who have come to understand that we are all a part of humanity, and the right to live as we please, in peace, is not to be taken merely because it can be.”