Candice didn’t think. With a cry, she catapulted onto Hayilkah’s back, sinking her teeth into his shoulder, tasting sweat, salt, and blood, and she bit with every ounce of strength she had. Hayilkah yelled, staggering to his feet, Candice still on his back, her teeth still in his flesh. Jack was already up, but Candice couldn’t relax. With a howl, Hayilkah threw her away from him, and she landed flat on her back in the dirt.
The tribe roared with laughter.
Candice sat up, dazed.
She focused, blinking, and thought she saw Jack staring at her in surprise.
Then Shozkay was grabbing her, two strong hands around her waist, pulling her out of the circle. “No!” Candice shouted. She struggled wildly. “Let me go! Stop this suicide! I demand you stop it! He’s going to kill Jack!”
Shozkay shook her, hard. Candice stopped protesting because the two men were circling each other again, and she realized there was nothing she could do to stop the insanity. Shozkay said, “He knows now not to get close to Hayilkah.”
For many minutes Jack kept to the defensive, dancing away from Hayilkah, keeping just out of his reach, easily dodging his lunges, his charges, playing it safe. Candice started to feel hope. If only he could keep this up indefinitely, he could tire Hayilkah out. But she wasn’t sure how long he could hold up. His face was bleeding from a gash over one eye and another at his mouth, and he was drenched with sweat. Now his chest was rising and falling rapidly, and he was breathing through his mouth. His silver eyes were hard with concentration, never wavering from his enemy. But Hayilkah looked every bit as tired.
Suddenly Jack took two steps in and leapt at Hayilkah with both feet. The blow hit Hayilkah high on the chest and sent him staggering backward. Jack kept coming. Another kick connected with Hayilkah’s jaw. Blood spurted. Hayilkah went down on his butt. Jack kicked again, to the head, and there was a crack as Hayilkah fell back against the dirt.
Jack backed off, tense and coiled, panting. He waited, out of reach, regaining his breath. Shozkay said quietly, “It is an old Apache ploy to pretend to be hurt and then take the other by surprise.” Candice bit her lip. She prayed.
He stepped closer. Hayilkah’s hand shot out, reaching for Jack’s ankle. Jack barely jumped away, stumbling from the contact, turning just in time to meet Hayilkah’s lumbering charge. Hayilkah was tired. He moved with effort, which gave Jack time to get out of the way. As Hayilkah moved past, Jack reached out, yanking his shoulder, and let loose with a right to his head. Hayilkah swayed. Jack hit him again, still holding him, and again. Hayilkah crumpled. Jack stepped back, coiled, and slammed him with a near-fatal kick. He lay very still.
There were shrieks from the Indians, and suddenly Jack was surrounded, being congratulated heartily. He staggered, panting heavily, one hand on his mouth, wiping away blood.
Candice stared, trembling. She couldn’t move. She watched as Shozkay put his arm around Jack, speaking softly, only to be shoved aside by Datiye. She threw her arms around him, but Jack held her away. Over her head, he looked at Candice. Their eyes met. His were bold and triumphant. Something primitive and eternal coursed through Candice. She walked forward, not taking her eyes from him. A path cleared before her. Jack watched her approach, his eyes glittering. She grabbed Datiye by the back of her dress, pulling her aside. Candice took Jack’s hand. He followed her wordlessly through the crowd, and Candice led him down to the creek, away from the turmoil and excitement.
She could feel the energy, the barely controlled blood-lust crackling in his body, sparking from his hand to hers. She was exhilarated from what had just happened, as the significance of it sank in. Jack had almost killed that warrior, not just because of the horse—but for her.
He sank to the ground, and Candice took his knife and cut a strip from her skirt. With shaking hands and a pounding heart, she soaked it in water, moving beside him, freezing when she met his eyes. His look made her heady—the proud look of triumph, the hot look of lust. She gently inspected the gash above his eye, trying not to tremble. It was as if the primitive fire running in his veins was being transmitted to hers.
“You need to be tended to,” she murmured huskily. “Are you sore?”
“Very,” he returned. He flinched as she cleaned the gash.
“Don’t move.”
“Just what did you think you were doing?”
She knew exactly what he was talking about. “I was helping you,” she said tersely.
He reached out and touched her hair. “Yes, you were, weren’t you?” His voice was husky. “Tell me the truth, Candice.”
Candice froze.
“Why did you do that? Because you hate Hayilkah, or because you wanted to help me?”
Candice hesitated. “I owed you,” she finally said. And that was true. “Remember? You saved my life, and now I’ve saved yours. We’re even.”
He studied her out of intense glittering eyes. “I saved your life twice, Candice. You still owe me.”
She couldn’t take another breath. From the look in his eyes she knew what he was thinking, and how he was going to have her repay him. She got to her feet quickly, breathlessly. But his hand on her wrist stopped her, pulling her down beside him, the pressure hard enough to hurt. “Jack.”
His hand found her jaw, holding her head still, poised to receive his mouth, When he spoke, ms breath was warm. “Do you know why I wanted to kill Hayilkah, Candice?”
She managed to shake her head. He had half his body on top of hers.
“No one abuses what belongs to me,” he said. “Not my horse. Not my woman.” His mouth came down hard on hers, and she was helpless to resist.
“You belong to me,” he breathed, running his callused hands over her breasts and her hips. He held her head still again to violently rape her mouth with his tongue.
His words echoed. Her body flamed. She felt a rushing thrill and there was no denying it. Candice had her arms around him, clutching his wet, slick back, her nails digging into his flesh. She thrust her tongue against his, past his, boldly. He groaned and kneed her thighs apart, settling his hard groin against hers. Grinding. Candice found his hips, then his buttocks, pulling him closer, their mouths clinging and clashing desperately, and she arched her pelvis against him, mindlessly, again and again. She heard a wild, primitive moaning as his mouth trailed to her throat, kissing and biting, soothing and hurting, and she was vaguely surprised that she was making those sounds.
