CHAPTER ONE
“No. No more. I beg of you…” Tethered to a large tree, his hands bound together behind his back, Brutus, the world’s most fearless immortal warrior, was finally at his breaking point. His shoulder blades were raw from the friction of the bark, and his cock literally felt like it might fall off. Also, there were dried twigs and leaves up his ass crack. He hated sitting naked in the dirt, especially in such a dense, dark jungle. Things lived in the dirt. Scary things.
Nothing as scary as these women.
“Silence, male,” the tall blonde Amazonian woman growled and removed her suede sarong, leaving her completely nude with her pert nipples pointing straight at him like two predatory eyes. “Get that thing hard for me. Chop-chop. I’ve been waiting all morning for my turn.”
I cannot possibly come another time. It wasn’t that these females weren’t attractive, with their tall lean bodies and tanned skin, but they were rough. They were demanding. And frankly, he was not okay with being bossed around like this.
He was the one who gave orders.
He was a leader in the gods’ army.
He was a legendary immortal warrior.
And idiot me came alone on this important mission. Now he was a sex prisoner. Well, sorta.
Truth was, he could probably break free if he wanted, but then these women would likely try to kill him, and he’d have to fight his way out of the jungle. Sure, he’d win—no woman was a match for his massive muscles and experience in battle—but he would lose the war. The war that would end everything. These women could mean the difference between winning and losing.
Brutus tilted his head back and rested it on the tree behind him. “You’re not getting what you want. I’m spent. I’m tired and hungry. So kill me if you must, but I’m done.” He knew they wouldn’t really harm him. They were much too horny, and from the looks of things, not one man among them.
The female warrior crouched in front of him and squeezed his unshaved face, digging her daggerlike nails into the skin. “I want sex,” she snarled, “and you shall give it to me or…” She whipped out a long blade, just as the previous ninety-seven women had.
He flinched, feeling the sharp edge of the knife pressing against his right testicle. “Hurry. Get it over with, then,” he said, his tone pure cockiness.
“Helga! Leave him alone,” a familiar female voice barked. “Can’t you see the man is exhausted? He’ll be no use to us if you cut the coconuts off his tree, and my mother will be displeased.”
Helga slowly stood, taking her blade with her. “Stay out of this, Fina. It is my turn with the man, and I say whether he lives or dies. At the moment, I say die.”
Wearing a bikini made of animal hides, Fina stepped into view, appearing between two tall mango trees. She was by far the best looking among their tribe, with her wide hips, toned arms and legs, and almond-shaped eyes. Her most striking feature, however, was the unusual gold streak on her right temple that contrasted her long dark hair. Her mouth, on the other hand, left something to be desired. Very mean scowl.
Fina was the one who had initially encountered him in the jungle. What luck! he’d thought. His mission to find this group was a matter of the utmost importance, but instead of hearing him out, Fina had hit him over the head. He’d woken up here with his hands tied behind his back and his torso roped to this tree.
It had been over a week now, and his attempts to tell them why he’d come were futile. It was as if they tuned him out or had very selective hearing when it came to male voices. Not that he was much of a talker. It was a well-known fact back home that he and his men, all human warriors who’d been gifted the immortal light of the gods (making them demigods), had developed a bond so strong that they could communicate telepathically. Years of practice.
“Helga, I do not wish to quarrel over this man,” Fina said, placing a sour note on the word man—like he was a useless piece of shit or a rotten banana. “I am merely pointing out that we have not seen a male around here in decades, and such a fine, well-equipped specimen at that. If you kill him, the others will be very upset. They’ve already planned out a sex schedule for the next six months.”
Six months? “No. That’s fine,” Brutus interjected. “She’s free to kill me. I’ve lived long enough.”
Both women looked at him. Fina growled. Helga smiled with sadistic delight.
No, he didn’t truly have a death wish, but Brutus had been growing tired of his role, heading off one apocalypse after another—the invasion of evil Mayan priests, the invasion of evil vampires, the invasion of evil vampire Mayan priests. And now? The immortal plague. It was all so repetitive, and, frankly, it took the joy out of winning. Disaster. Triumph. Disaster. Triumph.
Of course, the winning streak only applied to his career. The relationship front was a whole other story: Disaster. Bigger disaster. For example, he had never wanted a mate. He’d never asked for one. Yet the Universe, in her infinite sadistic wisdom, had insisted on mating him to a goddess named Colel. Most called her “Bees” on account of her being the Mistress of Bees, who wore an enormous immortal beehive on her head—very sexy. He liked a woman who cared for the tinier creatures of the world. However, Colel had been given two mates. Two! Practically unheard of. Needless to say, the other male won. Some demigod-slash-vampire florist asshole, named after an orchid, who couldn’t save the world if he tried.
Unlike me. Brutus had rescued the world hundreds of times.
Now that things were over with the goddess, he’d lost all taste for women. No, no. He wasn’t into men either. Unicorns were a hard no, too. Sex fairies were okay on special occasions, like when Cimil, the Goddess of the Underworld, threw one of her famous barbecues or naked knitting parties—he loved to knit. For animals. Particularly his elderly cocker spaniel, Niccolo. The point was, after having his heart broken, the Universe thought it would be hysterical to set him on a course that had led him here. To this jungle. During a time in his life when he wanted nothing to do with women.
And there are so many of them. Eesh…
“Listen, ladies.” He cleared his throat and puffed out his large chest, determined to finally be heard. “I have been a good sport and sat here patiently for over a week, being ridden like a merry-go-round pony, but now it is time for you to allow me to complete my mission. Because, frankly, we’re out of time, and this cow,” he glanced at his cock, “has no more milk.”
“Cow?” Fina chuckled. “That’s a funny thing to call your manhood.”
Helga started laughing, too. “He compared himself to a cow. He thinks he’s valuable.”
The two women doubled over, cracking up.
Brutus growled. They really were man-haters. “Are you going to let me talk to your leader or not?” he asked Fina. Several times she’d referred to her mother, who he assumed was their leader.
Fina looked down at him, her dark eyes shimmering as speckles of sunlight filtered through the tree canopy and danced across her face. Like the other women, she had dark skin, high cheekbones, and full juicy lips, but something about her felt different. Perhaps it was the defiant gleam in her eye. He wasn’t sure. He simply knew she was the only woman he hadn’t had sex with. Well, her and her mother—the leader whom he’d yet to meet.