by Bonnie Vanak
Kneeling besides Theo, he gestured to her. “Open his mouth.”
“What are you doing?”
“My blood has your demon strength. If I drip it into his mouth, Theo will absorb it. At the very least it’ll awaken him.”
Immobilized, she stared at him.
“Do it!” he snapped.
“It won’t work, Daimon.” She clenched and unclenched her fists. “You only have part of my strength. Barely a trickle.”
Blood ran down his arm, then slowed. The wound was already healing. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“My powers. One reason I promised my mother never to exercise my demon magick.” Ariana struggled with her emotions. “When I was little, she told me I must spend my childhood being good. That way when my full powers emerged when I turned twenty-one, the darkness would try to rise, but could not unless I expressly forced it. Because I knew how to suppress and control it.”
Distant howls split the cold air. A cold shiver raced down her spine. The wolves were waking up.
Soon, they would be here.
“A few weeks ago, I came into my powers. I practiced using the white light and repressed the darkness. You and Jarrett couldn’t coax it all out. Only I can.”
Daimon looked stunned. He glanced down at Theo and she felt sharp waves of deep grief coming from him. “He’s going to die, Ariana. He’ll die. Only you can help him, and the others. Release the demon inside you.”
“I can’t,” she whispered. “You don’t know what kind of monster it will make me.”
He stood, his frantic gaze whipping around the tiny clearing. “If you can’t help him, then we’re wasting time. I have to hide you before they get here.”
Against her protests, he herded her to a pine tree with a trunk the size of a truck tire. A small hollow was carved there. “Inside. Now. Stay there.”
She squeezed her body inside, feeling helpless. “I can sing to them, Daimon.”
“And put me to sleep as well. The first wave will drop, but the second group won’t stop. They’ll keep coming until we’re dead.”
Daimon raced off. She saw his muscles bunch and flex and suddenly a sleek black jaguar had replaced the man.
A bitter wind lashed the treetops, moaned through the branches where the jaguars had rested. If only they’d remained there. If only she’d never coaxed them down, put them to sleep.
Regrets tasted like ashes in her mouth. She hugged her knees, debating on a course of action.
Fear licked up her spine as she realized the howls drew closer. Ariana tried squeezing out of the space. Her sneaker caught on a root. Frantic, she tugged when she heard snarls and the awful sounds of two powerful animals clashing.
Wolves converged on Daimon. The jaguar snarled and swirled as they laced into his powerful body. He did not attack.
Then suddenly the wolves rushed forward. He used his powers to defend himself.
But a dozen more ran into the clearing. Ariana jerked at her caught foot. Sweat streamed down her temples, mingling with the cold tears on her cheeks. Daimon fought for his life.
For his men’s lives. And powerful as his magick was, it could not withstand the hundreds of wolves thirsting for his blood.
He’d die.
With a scream, she pulled her foot free. Pain speared her ankle. She screamed, the sound lost in the awful cadence of snarls, yips and a jaguar’s growling cough.
Ariana limped away from the tree, toward the battle.
Daimon shifted back to human form. Blood streaked down his face, his torso. On the ground, a wolf sank its fangs into the hindquarters of one sleeping jaguar. It stirred sluggishly.
She fisted her mouth, crying out as she limped quicker toward him.
A few feet away, she ground to a halt as Daimon turned, looked at her. Desperation etched his features.
“Ariana.” His deep voice was a bare whisper cutting through the cacophony.
Another wolf ran forward, leaped up to slam into him. He flung out a palm, slammed another wolf against the fir’s trunk.
But more were coming. Daimon’s frantic gaze met hers. Save them. Please.
“Call on the darkness inside you. Ariana, I beg you. I can’t let them die.”
“I can’t.” She was sobbing now. “I don’t know what it will do to me!”
He turned to deal with five more wolves racing toward the jaguars. The group circled around the largest jaguar. Theo was now awakening and flashing his gleaming fangs.
“Don’t, Theo,” Damian called out, his voice strong. “Remember what I told you. If you attack them first and draw blood, the cycle of violence will never end.”
Theo gave a grunting cough, lurched to all fours. But even as one wolf sprang forward and latched onto his hindquarters, the big cat did not lash out. Instead, he whirled, shaking off the wolf and running, the other wolves giving chase.
Then a larger gray wolf ran forward. Black bands streaked its proud muzzle. It was more muscled than the others, with an air of command.
Jarrett.
Ariana screamed as the wolf collided with Daimon. Grabbing it by the waist, he danced with the animal in a bizarre waltz. Jarrett’s fangs snapped close to Daimon’s neck.
The proud Ancient had made a promise of his own. Never to shed any more blood on this compound. He would die with the vow on his lips.
Never. Her heart pounded hard. “I’m sorry, Mother,” she whispered. “A promise is a promise, but I love him. I will not let him die.”
She did love him. His cheeky, cheerful grin, the way he snagged her attention and held it like a flame. His fierce protectiveness of her. His loyalty toward his friends.
The man she sensed he could become, if only he would learn to forgive the past.
“You do deserve my love,” Ariana silently told him.
Standing in the glen, she watched Daimon’s struggles with Jarrett grow weaker. Jarrett’s teeth snapped again, this time drawing a thin line of crimson across Daimon’s neck.
Ariana closed her eyes, folded her arms across her chest. Concentrated. She looked deep inside herself into the part of herself she never examined.
The dark part of herself inherited from her demon father.
The cruel strength she had never tapped. It now consumed and filled her.
Stretching out her hands, she opened her eyes. With a loud screech, she released the demon magick and sent it hurling toward Jarrett and Daimon.
The black mist blasted them apart like two strong hands. Each went hurling backward, rolling several yards.
Next she directed the darkness to the sleeping jaguars. Sending it straight into their sleeping consciousness. The big cats sprang awake with several growls, shaking their heads. They turned and snarled at the wolves, now backing away with threatening growls.
Ariana directed the demon magick upward, swirling higher and higher until it reached the treetops. With a cackle of laughter that sounded foreign to her own ears, she let it burn the treetops. Branches crackled and sizzled, and limbs began showering down on the melee.
Wolves and jaguars alike shrank back from the burning ash, seeking refuge as they dug into the earth, or hid in the brush. The cries of wounded animals sang in her eardrums like sweet music.
Two strong arms slid around her waist, lifted her. “Ariana, stop it, it’s okay, stop it, bring it back. Bring it back.”
“Never.” It was part of her, part of her soul. Her soul was black and chortled at the havoc she created, the sheer chaos.
Daimon released her, cupped her face and kissed her savagely. He kept kissing her, suctioning at her mouth as she struggled in his powerful grip. Kept kissing her until the swirling fury inside her dampened, replaced by sheer arousal.
Drawn to her rising desire, the demon darkness slammed back into her. The white light twined with it, repressing the darkness until it threaded with her angelic side and became quiet. Ariana stopped struggling, slid her arms around his neck and kissed him back with all the passion inside
her.
A shudder raced through him. He released his hands, exploring her body, sliding his palms down her back. Pressing her harder against him as if wishing to meld fully with her body.
Gradually she became aware of the quiet around them, the sweeping mist dousing the fire she’d created, and then a hesitant cough.
“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice said.
Ariana opened her eyes and wrenched free, staring at the odd man with the green horns jutting out of his forehead.
“I’m Anderson Stamos, director of the Society. If you two don’t mind, could you get a room. Please?”
The battle was over. The body count was amazingly zero.
Because of you, Anderson told Daimon as he surveyed the damaged woods, the wounded jaguars glaring at the wolves, swaying on all fours from the exertions of the battle. A light rain splattered the dead leaves at their feet, droplets rolling off Daimon’s naked shoulders to mingle with dried blood.
“You refused to kill. You had the power to kill all the wolves, but did not. By holding them off with your magick, you saved them all.”
“It was Ariana. She gave up that most dear to her, repression of her demon.” Daimon shook his head in wonder.
Sitting against a thick fir trunk, his mate looked weary and miserable. Daimon’s heart wrenched. She’d acted against her own wishes and seen the darkness inside her.
Ariana’s innocence was shattered. Yet she’d set all his men free. Her generous, courageous spirit had unleashed the darkness she dreaded, and harnessed its energy for good.
Nothing more pure and selfless had anyone given him. Daimon felt humbled and awed by her gift. He went to her, crouching down, and kissed her chilled cheek.
“Thank you, sunshine.”
She gave him a woebegone look. “Don’t call me that. There’s no sunshine left inside me anymore. Only darkness.”
Daimon gathered her icy hands between his. “That’s crap. You know it is. You’re the same Ariana, the same sweet, sassy and kick-ass woman I’ve always known. You released the demon for the right reasons. If not for you, many would have died. You had the courage to face what you feared the most.”
Struggling with his feelings, he added, “I don’t like counting on anyone else. I’ve always battled my damn pride, thinking I could do everything alone. But I’d count on you in a heartbeat for my life, Ariana. I owe everything to you.”
Wonderment touched her expression, then she smiled and he became lost in that look, wanting to stay there forever. She stared at him as if he were her whole world. No one had looked at him like that in a long time.
Daimon kissed her cheek again, and went to Anderson, who studied the sullen, quiet wolf pack. Bloodied across his proud muzzle, Jarrett bristled with arrogant defiance. The same kind of defiance Daimon himself sported.
Once. Never again. Something eased inside him. With a start, he realized it was the acid guilt always gnawing at his heart.
Daimon met the pack leader’s animal gaze and saw a reflection of his own haunted anguish. Jarrett had suffered greatly yet, like him, hid it from the world. He was a strong, brave leader.
The director stroked his green horns like a man smoothing back his hair. “The jaguars are free now, Daimon. They may remain here or return to their mates. The Lawson pack violated the truce and will be punished. I can issue an order of destruction, or continued confinement for the rest of their lives. You’re the Ancient. Your call.”
Anderson’s words cut through his thoughts. Ariana stood and joined him, looking expectantly at Daimon. Ash streaked her blond hair, dirtied one perfect cheek. She waited.
Glancing at Jarrett, Daimon shook his head. “No. Release them.”
The werewolf stared, his eyes blazing with hope. Ariana made a little humming noise deep in her throat. “Daimon, are you certain this is what you want?”
“Yes. The initial fight was my fault. Had I not been so headstrong, it could have been avoided.” Saying the words aloud brought him peace. “They should no longer suffer for it. Let the war be over, for good.”
Light shimmered around Jarrett. He transformed into a man, who waved a hand and clothed himself in pleated wool trousers and a heavy black sweater. He regarded Daimon with suspicion.
“You’re helping us?”
Daimon offered a thin smile. “One condition, first. Your entire pack, including your women, spend the next two nights here, with my men, learning to live in peace. I want my men’s mates to join them here for the duration. We’re going to learn to get along.”
“My men will get their mates back?”
Jarrett clearly struggled with his own emotions.
“Yes.” His gaze softened as he glanced at Ariana. “And it’s the women who will teach us to curb our feral instincts to fight.”
Anderson nodded. “I’ll make the arrangements. As long as you’re here to oversee both sides, it will be as you say, Daimon.”
The werewolf gave a brusque nod, and then, stuck out a palm. “Thank you, cat.”
Daimon shook his hand. “Truce, wolf.” He gestured to the lodge. “You and your pack are more than welcome to bunk down with us.”
There were murmurs of protest from the assorted werewolves beginning to take human form, and Daimon’s own men, who had shifted back, glared at the werewolves. Jarrett quieted his men with a sharp look.
“Yes, that will be a good idea. And I’ll make damn sure that my men will not violate the truce.”
“I don’t think they’ll be so eager to draw blood,” Daimon murmured. “I suspect they’ll be too busy in the next two days. Good thing there’s plenty of bedrooms. Because they’ll need them.”
Chapter Eleven
The females arrived late that night.
It was funny, Ariana mused, watching the men rise as a group and walk to the windows, their expressions hungry and eager. All afternoon the Lawson pack and Daimon’s men had studiously avoided one another.
Until an hour ago, when Anderson phoned and said the vans were on their way. Then as if in unspoken agreement, the men gathered in the enormous living room to wait.
Gradually, as the minutes ticked by, a fragile camaraderie replaced the friction. Some watched television. A werewolf and a jaguar engaged in a friendly game of air hockey, slamming the puck against the table’s sides with such force it shattered and they had to get another.
The scent of testosterone filled the air, yet the only aggression was a clear hint of sexual anticipation. They were saving their stamina for their mates, she realized.
She joined them at the windows. A pale shaft of moonlight spilled onto the driveway. Whines and howls of excitement ensued as the vans pulled up. Tears misted her eyes as she watched Theo, his big body tensing as a lovely redhead stepped out of the first van.
“Felicity,” he breathed.
The jaguar tore out of the room, and flung open the front door. As if he’d broken the spell, the others followed. Ariana watched as the men greeted their mates, crushing them against their chests in tight hugs. The wolves followed suit, joy flaring on their faces.
Only Jarrett stood alone, watching with a small, sad smile.
She scented pine and leather as Daimon stepped behind her. “See what good you’ve accomplished? All their joy is because of you, Ariana.”
Yet she felt no joy from him, only a heavy sadness and distance, as if guilt layered his spirit. Guilt for causing her demon to emerge.
“Go upstairs, Ariana. Get some rest. I must attend to my duties as host and Ancient.”
Daimon slipped away.
He needed her, Ariana realized. She needed him. Yet between them yawned a chasm created by their commingled fears, regrets and guilt.
It was time to bridge that particular gap.
Dressed to seduce, Ariana left her bedroom an hour later. She had taken a leisurely bath and rubbed nonscented lotion over her body, remembering how Daimon liked the musk of her arousal. The floor-length peacock-blue nightgown whispered against her ankle
s as she walked toward the stairs. Sounds of couples grunting and moaning filtered through closed bedroom doors. The entire second and third floors were taken up by the werewolves, but where were Daimon’s men?
She found out as she descended. She heard deep guttural grunts coming from downstairs.
At the foot of the sweeping staircase, Daimon leaned against the banister. He was naked, sweat glistening on his skin and gleaming his taut muscles.
He turned, a savage look on his face, his nostrils flaring as he spotted her. Chest muscles taut, he clenched his jaw. His long penis swung from its nest of dark hair. Remembering how it thickened as he stroked inside her, brow. Ariana flushed with anticipation.
“I told you to stay upstairs.”
“I don’t want to rest. I want you.” She descended and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his muscled, hairy chest.
“Ariana.” His voice was thick.
“Why are you naked?”
“I was out running. Can’t stand the feel of them against my skin.” His body tensed. “They’re too tight.”
“Can’t you hear it? Everyone’s making love. It sounds so lovely.” She kissed a droplet of sweat away. “Let’s join them.”
“I’m standing guard for my men. They don’t trust their females around the wolves. So we’ve taken over the entire living room.”
“Why?” She picked up his hand, placed it gently on her left breast. “The wolves are all upstairs, happily becoming reacquainted with their mates. The only one not here is Jarrett and I saw him a while ago, out running with the moon.”
“I ran with him for some time.” He raked a palm through his thick hair in an agitated gesture. “We talked as our men were engrossed in feeding and caring for their mates. Resolved some differences, and he forgave me for what happened to his sister, his mate and his unborn child. And then we ran to release our emotions.”
She understood Jarrett’s grief, seeing his men happy with their mates while his lay cold in the ground. But Daimon?
“Jarrett has no female to relieve him, to bond with him and give him pleasure. But you have me.” Ariana lifted his palm and gave it a slow lick.
