Chapter 1: Introduction
The jungle crowded around the small plane as it bounced and jostled through the air, occasionally groaning like an old wooden bridge. Emily Sinclair squirmed against her straps. She felt like a magician's assistant being sawed in half, the unforgiving vinyl digging into her hips. Her eyes scanned the trees flying by outside the perspex window, unaware of the drumming initializing in the tribal village deeper in the jungle.
Tribal drums boomed-like war drums-bouncing off the trees in terrifying, sonorous thunderclaps. She glanced nervously at her map, absently wondering if her instruments were transmitting her location back to the University. The thought lent a smile to her lips, both comforted-and trapped by-by her life's work.
Emily's UN jeep churned up the dirt road-a road which was sometimes path, sometimes waterway, and sometimes just her determined passage-creaking through the seemingly endless Congolese jungle.
She reached for her bottle of water-refreshingly cool against her parched lips in the thick humidity-and the drums of the nearby tribe echoed in the distance.
Her heart leaped as her vehicle hit an unexpected dip, sending her momentarily airborne, threatening her precious satchel of research-her lifeline to civilization and recognition. She glimpsed a flash as the jeep slipped through two trees, scant feet apart. Emily felt her stomach clench-this was getting dangerous.
She shouldn't be too far from the village; it couldn't be more than a few hundred meters. She gripped the wheel tightly, muscles straining and perspiration snaking down her neck, mingling with the humid air, breathing heavily and counting the muddy potholes.
After what seemed like an eternity, Emily spotted smoke-yes, she wasn't lost. Pushing her nerves aside, she breathed out heavily and increased her speed, hearing the feedback rhythmically knocking against her now-aching spine.
The smoke rose like a beacon from the midst of the labyrinthine jungle, guiding her towards the throbbing beats of the tribal drums.
In the heart of the village, the Chief-a colossal, virile, tattooed figure sat smugly on his throne, idly caressing a ceremonial spear with a lustrous human-bone handle. His dark eyes gleamed with a flash of recognition as he was informed about the curious stranger in their midst.
The Chief let out a command, and the tribal drums faltered, their rhythm stuttering as the village's inhabitants parted. A swirling vortex opened around him, merging into an excited buzz. He rose from his throne, his powerful, toned muscles flexing with each step.
He approached a makeshift hut, barking an order for the door to be opened. The doors parted, revealing Dr. Emily Sinclair. She was drenched in sweat, her blonde hair clinging to her flushed face and shoulders.
Emily's eyes widened as she looked up to see the intimidating figure of the Chief filling the doorframe. The curiosity that had driven her to come this far was now overshadowed by looming fear. The fervor with which the tribal men gazed at her penetrated her very being, leaving her vulnerable-and unbearably aroused.
Realizing the futility of her situation, Emily's breath hitched, a reflexive shiver running down her spine as his dark gaze boldly swept over her. The Chief stepped towards her, predatorial and unhesitating.
Emily rose, her hands trembling as she packed away her papers. He motioned to his men to remain still with a mere flick of his wrist. A sinister smile played upon his lips as he slowly advanced.
"Who... are you?" Emily asked, managing a weak rasp.
The Chief towered over her; his eyes ran over the curve of her breasts, down her slender waist, and stopping at the apex of her thighs. He couldn't understand a word she was saying, but her form looked perfectly breedable.
And her reaction was priceless: large blue eyes had widened in surprise, and her lips parted fractionally, resting like a suggestive cupid's bow.
The Chief grasped the thin strap of her dress; his grip was hot and proprietary. Sliding it off her shoulders, he paused to trace admiring fingers along the top of her breasts, pausing just slightly to enjoy the shiver that coursed through her.
Her breasts-free falling from her dress, spilled like two luscious curves, nipples taut and enticing beneath the thin fabric of her bra.
Unable to resist, The Chief cupped one, kneading gently. Emily couldn't stifle her gasp-a simultaneous burst of fear and pleasure. A bright flush painted her cheeks; she stared at the Chief in shock.
He leaned in, his lips hovering just above hers-because they couldn't communicate in language, their bodies would have to engage in a primal dialogue. The Chief's other hand wrapped itself firmly into her hair, and he claimed her lips in a fierce, passionate kiss.
Her breath faltered-she'd never experienced anything as overwhelmingly dominant.