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.” tarazan shame of jane
“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
“Forgive me,” she said, the words foreign and heavy. In the house of Lord Greystoke, shame was
And in the silence that followed, the jungle breathed again.
The jungle held its breath. Not even a panther stirred in the velvet gloom.
“This,” he said, “is nothing. You are my mate. You are worth a hundred villages. But you acted like a thief. And a thief in the jungle does not live.”