out as she ran to the car.
As her fingers fumbled with the latch, she glanced over her shoulder and her breath caught in her throat.
Light from the restroom’s lamp showcased the fight. Wolves flew through the air like toys flung by a petulant toddler. One escaped the fracas and loped toward her with a snarl. The jaguar raced after it with a low grunt. The wolf sailed into a tree and hit hard. It slid downward, its angry snarl turning into a pitiful whimper.
The jaguar paced toward her, giving another low, coughing growl. It bumped against her backside, the pink tongue lolling out.
She got the message and climbed into the car.
When the driver’s-side door opened, she gave her rescuer an arch look. “A Jag for a jaguar. Very apt. I was wondering if you’d shift back. Must be hard to reach the pedals with your paws. Or do you use telekinesis to drive as well as fight?”
Clad now in a black turtleneck and black jeans, Daimon started the car. “I told you to get inside and lock the doors. I see I must teach you to obey me.”
Her temper rose. She slammed it down. “Listen, I’m grateful you have a car and you got me out of that mess, but it ends there. I just need a little money to get my wheels fixed….”
“They sabotaged it. By now your car is scrap.”
Ariana’s hands tightened in her lap. She hadn’t bathed, eaten a full meal or slept, and this news sent her raw nerves screeching. The dark intensity on his face and the savageness of his voice warned he told the truth.
“Why are they against me? I’ve never hurt anyone!”
“Not yet, because the demon inside hasn’t been released yet, Ariana. You will not allow it power.”
Panic thudded in her heart. “How do you know about me?”
He ignored her question. “Those after you are werewolves, part of Jarrett Lawson’s pack. The pack sensed you coming and threw nails into the road. You didn’t have a chance. They were running you down on purpose until you dropped and were forced to use your dark powers. Jarrett wants you the same way I want you.”
She was terrified to ask but did so anyway. “What for?”
He shot her a glance filled with hot male hunger and purpose. “Naked in bed underneath him, to make you his mate.”
Chapter Two
The last of the three Darkling triplets wanted by the Society had been captured. She now lay slumped over in sleep, riding shotgun in his sleek red Jaguar.
First she’d issued a string of vehement cuss words about his plans. Then, after turning the air blue and her face red, she turned away.
“I need to rest and shut off my mind, and my mouth.” Tucking her legs beneath her, she’d promptly dozed off.
“But I like your mouth. I like it on mine very much,” he’d murmured back.
Daimon gave a wicked smile as he guided his car to the farmhouse. A Jag for a jaguar. She was clever as well as lovely. He glanced at his charge. Even the smudges of dirt streaking her face, the ripped jeans and the mussed hair couldn’t dim her beauty.
His nose wrinkled. She hadn’t bathed in a few days, but somehow that made her scent of hot sunshine and delicate wildflowers more potent and alluring to his feline side.
This particular assignment had fallen right into his lap. Ariana had not recognized that he was the childhood companion she’d known—the cat who’d had kept her company as she went on solitary strolls through the woods. She’d never known his true identity or how he’d guarded her from the predators in the dark forest and kept her safe.
Then again, he had never shown her his human side until that night when they’d made love. Didn’t want to scare her off. Daimon’s hands tightened on the leather wheel. He had some demons of his own and they weren’t pretty.
When the Society for the Elimination of Malevolent Magick had assigned him to find Ariana and tame her dark side, he’d gladly accepted. Her two sisters had already been mated and their demons were no longer a threat. Daimon wanted her at his side. The Society would have no means to destroy her, because he would fully assimilate her dark powers.
He needed them to revitalize the weakening spirit of his people. So the task of absorbing her demon powers to keep her from turning evil fit exactly into his plans.
Unfortunately, his enemy wanted her as well. Jarrett, alpha leader of the Lawson pack, was ancient, knowledgeable, and could accomplish the same as Daimon by mating with Ariana. The Lawson pack would gain immeasurable power and they would come straight for Daimon and his men.
The battle would be bloody, brutal and cost many lives.
His jaw tightened. Jarrett had nearly worn her down, if not for the Darkling taking refuge in the restroom, a safe and neutral zone no werewolf could access.
The weathered, split-rail fence came into view. Daimon relaxed as he drove to the gate. With a press of a button, the gate swung open to and he proceeded up a long gravel driveway.
The three-story rustic lodge had a backdrop of Washington pine. Once used as a hotel, it now served a different purpose. The seventy-five acres had become his to rule after he’d agreed to become leader of this colony.
A short while later, he pulled in front and cut the engine. Ariana sighed in her sleep. Gently he smoothed back her blond hair. His knuckles rubbed against her chilled cheek.
His brow furrowed as he assessed her appearance. Skin stretched tautly over fine bone instead of the soft roundness he remembered from the last time they had seen each other.
As a child, she’d trusted him utterly, confided secrets, cried into his silky fur.
He’d trusted no one, told no secrets, and his eyes were dry as desert dust.
Emotions were a luxury. He couldn’t afford them, not if they were to survive the winter and constant threats from the Lawson pack.
“Sunshine, fear not,” he murmured, his fingers caressing her nape. “I’ll take good care of you.”
She would need plenty of food, warmth and tender loving care before he set out on his task. Seducing her into his bed and coaxing out her dark powers to infuse his men with strength shouldn’t take too long. Desire fled in the face of tender concern. Daimon frowned. Ariana was an assignment, nothing more. His people were in desperate need of her. He could not allow his feelings for his childhood companion to deflect his goal.
Skin like pale porcelain was marred with dirt. Her powder-blue sweater was torn and destined for the trash. The print trousers were frayed, as if the pack had chased her through brambles. Daimon’s lips narrowed. He’d tear Jarrett’s throat out for running her ragged.
“Hey,” he told her, jostling her gently. “We’re home. Wake up.”
As Ariana rubbed sleep out of her eyes, his throat tightened. All the forgotten misfits in his unruly pack depended on this woman—and Daimon taking her in the flesh.
If
