Page 176 of Cherish

And keeps lowering it.

Right about the time his arm finally makes it toshoulder height, a loud, high-pitched buzzing fills the air around us that even I can hear now. And about two seconds after that—before Jaxon can so much as lower the honeycomb a centimeter more—bees appear all over on the surface of the honeycombs themselves. A few begin buzzing around the honeycombs as well.

Still, it’s nothing that has me panicked. I mean, we weren’t expecting Slo-mo Jaxon—and I’m not relishing the trip home with him—but other than a little extra bee activity around the tree, the insects seem to be leaving us alone.

I let out a long sigh. Finally, the universe is going to give us a win, and I, for one, am here for it.

Flint and Eden take turns making wisecracks about Jaxon—who has now managed to lower the bit of honeycomb another centimeter—and I notice a huge droplet of honey forming at the bottom of it.

I look around for Hudson, to tell him I think I have a way to capture the nectar, but he, Macy, and Eden have started walking around the perimeter of the tree, I guess to get a better look at it. I shrug.

“No time like the present,” I say to no one in particular as I slide my backpack off my shoulder. Unzipping the top, I rustle around until I find the pouch containing the vials the Curator gave me. I grab two, just in case, and sling the pack on my back again.

I pull the cork off of one of the vials, walk up to Jaxon, and position it just under the droplet of honey, careful to keep the forming blob over the center of the opening. I definitely do not want any of this slow-motion bullshit Jaxon is going through.

“Hey, can you guys stop giving Jaxon shit and look around for a stick or something to knock the honeycomb out of his hand?” I say with a pointed look at the two dragons, who shrug and head to the edge of the jungle to look for sticks.

Hudson, Macy, and Heather are still staring at the tree, I realize, and I follow their line of sight to find a cluster of bees buzzing around one of the largest honeycombs. The bees don’t look like any I’ve ever seen before, though, and I have to swallow back the urge to shout, “RUN!”

First of all, the smallest of the bees—of which there are not many—are the size of a walnut. The bigger bees are more like the size of my fist—even bigger if you measure around the tall antennae shooting up from their head, massive wings keeping their fat bodies bobbing in the air, and a ridiculously long stinger sticking out of its venom sac.

As I stare at the giant creatures with their huge black eyes and fuzzy faces, all I can think is that I thought the shadow bugs were bad. Because, while I have nothing against regular bees, these are next-level bad.

And oh God…

I swallow hard.

They’ve spotted us.

That was my first thought.

My second?

Giant wings mean there is absolutely nothing slow about them.

And the swarm is heading straight for Jaxon.

95

To Bee or

Not to Bee

Flint must hear one of us scream, because he doesn’t hesitate. He races to Jaxon and wraps his huge body around his—and accidentally nudges the honeycomb.

Flint, whose self-preservation instinct isn’t always the best, must figure out exactly how screwed he is, because he starts to change into his dragon form, I’m guessing because a dragon’s skin is so much tougher than our human skin.

But now he’s also moving in slow motion.

Watching a dragon—or even a werewolf—shift is usually a beautiful thing, filled with rainbow shimmers and mystical light and a change that happens in little more than the blink of an eye.

Watching Flint shift right now is none of those things. Not beautiful. Not mystical. And definitely not quick. Instead, it’s awkward as hell, not to mention terrifying, because, unlike when he normally shifts, we get to see every single thing that happens in close-up, slow-motion detail.

His skin starts to shift first, changing from warm and soft and brown to cold and scaly and green, one excruciatingly slow layer—and second—at a time. And while dragon scales are absolutely beautiful, especially Flint’s, partially formed dragon scales slowly layering themselves over human skin is awful-looking.

Add in the fact that his head starts to shift at the same time as his skin, and the result is something truly monstrous. His bone structure starts to elongate, his jaw broadens, his teeth sharpen, and the skin above his temples, eyes, mouth, jaw, and cheekbones begins to form sharp, hard crests.

In other words, his human head becomes a dragon head—only it does it so slowly that he looks more like a demon than a human or a dragon.

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