“Who you were,” Tarzan repeated, dropping silently to the earth. He walked toward her, each step a controlled storm. “You were a woman who understood the law of the jungle: do not take what is not yours. Do not trade fear for a trinket. You shamed yourself before the elders. Worse—you shamed me.”
The word hit her like a slap. Shame. She had never heard it from his lips. In the house of Lord Greystoke, shame was a silk noose, a whisper at dinner. Here, it was a raw blade. tarazan shame of jane
“You are not of the village,” he said, his voice a low rumble that did not rise above the hum of insects. “You are not of the white men’s towns anymore. You are of the tribe. My tribe.” “Who you were,” Tarzan repeated, dropping silently to