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

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 ankles 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