Tarazan Shame Of Jane ((top)) -

“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.”

Tarzan watched her from the low branch of a muiri tree, his bronze skin streaked with woad and dust. His eyes were not angry. That would have been easier. They were disappointed, and worse—ashamed for her.

Jane felt the shame then—not because he had shamed her, but because he was right. She had been careless with the trust of people who owed her nothing, and with the love of a man who owed her everything. tarazan shame of jane

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.

“There is nothing to forgive,” he said. “Only something to remember. You are Jane of the Apes now. Act like it.” “Who you were,” Tarzan repeated, dropping silently to

“I am not your property to be shamed,” she whispered, but her voice cracked.

Tarzan stopped inches from her. He reached out and, with impossible gentleness, took the locket from her clenched fist. It was cheap brass, already tarnishing. Do not trade fear for a trinket

Jane lifted her chin. “I wanted one thing. One small thing to remember who I was.”