NocC 004 - The Ancients 03 - Bonnie Vanak - Hunted by the Jaguar - Harlequin 2011-12 by Nocturne Page A

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