Primitive Nights by Candi Wall

water before surging up again.
    She swam as close as she could, riding the current until she came within a couple of feet of him. His hand brushed over hers but she wasn’t able to grab hold. “Take my hand, Myla.”
    Her legs scraped the rocky riverbed, and she kicked herself forward. This time her hand closed around his and he dragged her close. A large tree lay across half of the river to their right. She pointed to it. “Damon, there!”
    They kicked in its direction together. The current pulled them over more, and Myla felt the first surge of relief. They were going to make it. She prayed they’d make it.
    The water swelled and churned, and the moment they reached the tree, before excitement could actually form, they were sucked under. Tumbled around. Slammed into piles of hidden rocks beneath the surface, until she couldn’t tell up from down or right from left. Sucking water into her lungs, Myla prayed for a miracle.
    Something gouged her leg, sending shards of pain up through her thigh. She sucked in another mouthful of water, her lungs burning. Damon’s hold slackened. She held tight to him, kicking up through the frothy foam to grab the tree. “Grab here, Damon. Here!” she sputtered.
    He draped an arm over the tree, but it slipped free a moment later. His eyes were half closed, and a thin ribbon of blood trickled from a deep gash near his temple. She screamed his name, wrapping her legs around him as she held on to the tree, gasping for breath. “Damon, you—have to—help me.”
    He nodded and surged forward through the water. Myla tried to pull him along but his weight seemed impossibly heavy.   Somehow, they made it to shore, dropping down on the jagged rocks in a heap. He tumbled over her, lethargic, his motions slow and his eyes unfocused. She tugged him out of the water, then dropped to her knees, exhausted.
    Each breath she took rushed out as she looked him over, panic beating at her skull. The wound at his temple was deep, oozing with blood. She could manage a bandage of sorts—she just hoped he didn’t lose consciousness. “Damon, please.”
    He smiled, his breathing slow and his eyes closed. A warm hand snaked around her waist and pulled her down with him. “I will be fine. Now I need to rest for a bit. You were very brave.”
    She didn’t resist when he tucked her head into his shoulder. He needed a break. If he had a concussion, she’d have to wake him from time to time, but for now, she’d let him rest. She ran her hands over his slick skin. “Sleep, Damon.”

Chapter Eight
    Pain sliced through his brain with brilliant accuracy to center right behind his eyes. He did not dare open them.
    The soft rustle of leaves from behind him and the rushing waters below told him where he lay. He was dry, or nearly so, and the heat of the day had diminished. He had to keep each movement slow, but he managed to shift into an upright position and opened his eyes slowly.
    “Go easy, Damon.”
    Had Myla’s voice gained in strength? The way the words ricocheted around in his head made him cringe. Even worse, he wished he had not moved as a wave of nausea rose in his gut. “Explain.”
    Myla dropped to her knees before him, her forehead crinkled with concern. “You’ve been out of it for a while.” She looked up at the sky with a small shrug. “An hour, maybe more. I can’t really tell without a watch.”
    Her chatter made him want to smile. Every subtle gesture, the inflection of her words, the way she tucked her hair behind her delicate ears. The happiness her presence brought him made no sense, especially when his head was ready to explode and the threat of danger loomed around them. She was special.
    He could enjoy spending the day lying in the grass, enjoying every aspect of her spirit. But the Hountas would follow. “We need to move. Now.”
    The warning in his voice seemed to take her by surprise. After a moment of silence, she pointed up the embankment. “I couldn’t manage to drag