The leader said nothing.
“Mother, please?” Fina begged. “At least you go with him. I can stay here and—”
“You will be quiet, child,” snapped the queen, “or his head will not be the only one stewing in the pot tonight.”
Brutus growled. “You do not need to threaten her like—hold on. Pot?” He glanced over at a group of hungry-looking women brandishing very long swords. How did I not see this coming?
“Brutus, run!” Fina barked. “Run!” She pushed her mother, who fell back, barely missing the bonfire.
He had never once run from a fight. In fact, it felt so unnatural that it took two full seconds to get his feet moving.
Brutus turned and started sprinting in the opposite direction of the village, toward the thick, dark jungle downstream from the waterfall.
I hope they don’t have built-in night vision. Because he sure didn’t. “Ooph!” He ran into a tree and fell back. Luckily, his body was fairly resilient.
He got to his feet again and continued running. Someone was on his tail. Someone moving faster than him.
But of course. These women had to know the terrain like the backs of their hands. This was their home.
“Run! Faster, you big muscle log!” Fina’s voice called out.
She was following him? “What are you doing?” Her mother would not be happy.
“Move!” Fina yelled.
“I can’t see where I’m going.”
He felt a rough little hand grab his, triggering a wave of odd tingles, and start tugging him along. He didn’t know if she’d simply mastered the landscape or truly could see in the dark. Either way, they were moving faster now with her in the lead. Unfortunately, he doubted that would be an advantage. If Fina knew how to run in the jungle, so did the other women.
“Where are we going?” he asked, running behind her as she pushed through wall after wall of vines and branches.
“Off the deep end.”
“Very funny. But I assure you your mental faculties are just fine.”
“No. I mean we’re jumping off the next waterfall downstream into the deep end of the next pool. They won’t follow us off sacred land.”
“When you say jump off a cliff,” he yelled out as they ran, “exactly how high are we talking?”
“Never measured! I’m afraid of heights, remember?”
Panting, he asked, “Then how are you certain it is safe? Because while I am technically immortal, that does require my body to remain in one piece.” Not that he was afraid of heights—he’d jumped from airplanes plenty of times, but that was generally with the aid of a parachute.
“Not certain at all, but if you want to live…” She skidded to a halt.
He ran into her, slamming right into her back. He wasn’t going to pretend that it hadn’t felt kind of good.
“Watch it! You almost pushed me over,” she said.
“Next time, alert me when you wish to stop running.” He never had this issue of communication with his men. Actually, it was the opposite. They communicated too much. Nothing was private due to their telepathy.
“How about you and the General put a sock in it,” Fina barked.
“I have no socks. You took them from me,” he pointed out.
“Stop it. They’re coming. We have to jump.”
He hated to admit it, but maybe she was braver than him, especially if she was willing to overcome her fear. “Fine. I’m ready.”
She grabbed his hand, and suddenly they were falling into the night.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Keep moving and stop talking!” Colel, Mistress of Bees, swung her machete, carving a narrow path through the Amazonian jungle while the rain relentlessly pelted her and her immortal hive.
Gods, I really wish I hadn’t worn my stupid toga. It was made of a fine cream-colored silk, which she thought would keep her cool in this sweltering heat, but the branches and vines had cut it to shreds.
“And stop laughing at me!” she barked. “I know my ass is hanging out!” Bees! I swear, for insects with such tiny bodies, they could be huge assholes. Especially Chuck, the hive leader.
Buzzz. Buzzz. Chuck flew in a circle around her head, weaving between huge raindrops. He continued to chastise her for running off like this and defying Votan. Also, her mate, Rys, wouldn’t bee very happy either, but too bad. Just because she had made her choice and given her heart to him didn’t mean she would abandon Brutus. Fact was, he’d been there for her time and time again as she’d traipsed around the globe to check on her flock. And now it was time for her to give back.
I know something’s wrong. I can feel it. Brutus and she were connected, after all—the Universe’s idea of a sick little joke, giving her two men, two options, two mates. What she felt with Rys, however, was infinitely stronger. She loved him with all her heart, but she still cared for Brutus. Probably more than she should. Definitely more than Rys was comfortable with.
Maybe if Brutus finds a love of his own, it will sever our connection. She’d be okay with that. He deserved happiness.
Chuck buzzed at her again and then landed right on her nose, trying to stare her down.
“Okay! I got it. You’re wet, hungry, and tired, but I’m the one carrying you fools. So if you want to get out of here, I suggest you all get off your immortal bee butts and start canvassing the jungle for Brutus. Go ask the other hives in the area if they’ve seen him.” They had to have come across him.
Chuck gave the orders, and the tiny gang of black-and-yellow soldiers dispersed from her hat into the dense jungle. Actually, technically they were in the rainforest—lots of tall trees—but from this vantage point, it was all one, big, wet, green mess!
“Thank you!” she called out, because the sooner she found Brutus, the sooner they could all get back to beesness: saving the world.
Colel continued pushing ahead, chopping her way toward the mountain. It was miles away, but the last time she’d come across the tribe of women where Brutus was heading, she’d found their village somewhere near its base, next to an enormous waterfall. I hope I find them. With their help, she’d find Brutus for sure. They knew every crack and crevasse of this jungle. They’d know where to look for him.
Brutus woke to the feeling of warm water dribbling on his face. Well, it was that or a monkey pissing on his head. He cracked open one eye and found Fina leaning over him with a chunk of bamboo in her hand.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I made a cup with this bamboo. I’m washing that gash on your head.”
“Gash?” he mumbled.
“Yeah. You must’ve hit something on the way down. It knocked you out. Took me all morning to find you downriver.”
He didn’t recall any of that. “Lucky I didn’t drown.”
“Your bloated ego must be very buoyant.”
“You’re one to talk.” He’d never met a woman more full of herself.
“It’s called confidence—something real leaders have.”
“What do you mean by that?” He groaned and sat up in the moist dirt, pressing his hand over the throbbing spot on top of his head. The knot was the size of a golf ball.