Chapter One

The deep Amazon is a wondrous and fearful place. I'm not talking about Iquitos or Manaus-big cities that tourists fly into and out of in less than a week. I'm talking about the rain forest primeval, where every step looks the same as the next, where giant lianas and buttress roots and fallen trees rise out of the leaf litter to trip you up at every step and where the sweat pours off your body in tiny rivers even if you stand still and don't move a muscle.

Those whose visits to such places are restricted to watching National Geographic or the Discovery Channel might be forgiven for thinking that in such jungles it's the big predators who rule; the jaguars and harpy eagles and anacondas. Don't you believe it. It's the insects who are the kings of the green domain. The insects, the arthropods, and the even smaller parasites.

It's the small creatures with the many legs and the sucking mouthparts who rule the rain forest, and it's they of whom visitors should most properly be terrified ...

From the moment his tired survey of the town was interrupted by the glory of her passage, Carlos knew he had to have her. Not with haste and indifference, as was usual with his women, but for all time. For thirty years he had resisted any thought of a permanent liaison with a member of the opposite sex. His relationships hitherto had consisted of intense moments of courtship and consummation that flared hot as burning magnesium before expiring in the chill wash of boredom.

No longer. He had seen the mooring to which he intended to anchor his vessel. He could only hope that she was mortal.