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Hunted by the Jaguar
The Ancients
Book Three
Bonnie Vanak
MILLS & BOON
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Stranded miles from home, Ariana Fuller has few ways to protect herself from the enemy hunting her—except to let her demon side take control over the angelic half of her soul. The last man she wants to come to her rescue is jaguar shifter Daimon Nelson, the man who claimed her virginity and still tempts her like no other.
Though Ariana fears giving in to erotic abandonment will free her inner demon, Daimon’s scorching kisses and wicked aura of sensuality make her forget all common sense. She tries to resist his allure, but Daimon is equally resolved to complete his mission of seduction. He must mate with Ariana to absorb her dark powers before they are unleashed—and before the enemy can claim her for himself….
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter One
“Ariana, Ariana.” A husky male voice sang out from the thick woods as Ariana Fuller sprinted across the deserted road to a nearby park. “Call on your demon and they will stop. Then return to me, and be mine forever.”
Like hell I will. She’d never surrender to Jarrett Lawson’s demands.
The pack of snarling wolves snapping at her heels ran harder. Close, so close she could feel their hot breath. Terror clogged her throat. Ariana summoned a last burst of strength as she spotted the public restroom in the distance.
Her luck, which had been scarce as sunshine in Seattle on a cold winter’s day, suddenly surged. The wolves ground to a halt in the parking lot, circling as they growled. Fumbling with the door handle, Ariana finally yanked it open and cried out as her jeans caught on a rusty nail that cut her skin. She ran inside and slammed the door, holding her weight against it.
The pack howled, eager for more of her blood.
Ariana leaned her sweating forehead against the door. No, she must not surrender to the demon. Instead, she opened her mouth and began to sing, the words garbled, the lyrics mumbled. But the purity of the notes and the resonance of her voice stilled the baying outside. The wolves grew quiet, then began to whine in a clear plea for more. And then they fell silent. Her angelic singing always soothed the savage beast into slumber.
Stranded miles from home and exhausted, she slumped against the door and slid down to the floor. Droplets of her blood splashed onto the dirty tile. As it always did, the singing had drained her. She realized that she had few defenses left unless she allowed the darkness inside her to take over.
Never. She’d made her angelic mother a promise never to give the demon power.
Forcing her trembling limbs to obey, she pushed to her feet. The cracked mirror showed that her blue eyes were wide with fright and her shoulder-length blond hair was matted. A smudge of dirt marred one perfect cheekbone. The designer clothing she’d purchased to impress was now only good for the trash. She tried finger-combing her hair.
“I look like a bad-hair day times two,” she muttered.
Two nights ago, she’d been happily humming along to Train’s latest hit while driving from Seattle to Oregon, where she’d been promised a job interview with a wildlife care center. They didn’t know she was a Darkling, half angel, half demon. They thought she was human. It was her one chance for a real life in the real world.
And then her two front tires blew out late at night on a lonely wooded road. A handsome stranger in a black cashmere coat stopped his pickup and offered to take her to his home. Jarrett Lawson’s manner was smooth, but she sensed that secrets lurked behind his eyes.
When she refused, he snapped his fingers. A pack of snarling wolves had set upon her, giving chase into the forest. Her cell phone didn’t work in the remote location, and she’d dropped her purse. She’d sung to calm the pack and then had to muster strength to search for help.
Each time she reached the edge of the woods, the wolves set upon her again. Ariana relied on her wits to hide from them. To ease the gnawing in her empty stomach, she’d eaten plant roots, resisting the temptation to launch a counterattack against the wolves. Even though the restroom where she was now trapped was grimy, the facilities worked and the water was sweet and cool.
But after two days of running, she was rapidly losing strength to make it on her own. Soon, she’d collapse.
Violent shivers racked her. She rubbed her arms, the damp cold and the hunger pinching every nerve ending.
A few minutes later, she opened the door and peered out. No wolves. But a small black cat meowed as it gazed upward.
Emerald eyes blazed as the cat twitched its tail. Ariana’s mouth curled in a slight smile. An air of familiarity, like an old friend, surrounded the cat as it purred and wound around her legs.
“I suppose you want a piece of me too, cat. Are you after me as well?”
Light shimmered and glittered suddenly, the cat’s meows turning into a deep grunt like a big wildcat. As her tired, shocked gaze beheld the vision, the cat shifted into a tall, sleekly muscled, naked man. Hair the color of midnight swung just below his stubbled jawline. The wickedest sin sparkled in his gaze. The delicious scent of sharply turned earth, pine and musk filled her senses.
Ariana staggered back against a chipped sink.
“Daimon?”
“Hello, sunshine.” He cocked his head at her. “Yes, I am after you. I have been, for quite a while.”
The deep, velvet-smooth voice sent a shiver down her spine as it had one year ago when he’d coaxed her into his bed. She’d lost her virginity to Daimon Nelson.
And then ran away.
The golden skin, chiseled muscles and aura of power was the same. His smoldering gaze swept over her body, stopped at the nasty gash in her jeans.
Daimon squatted down, parting the fabric and studying the cut, which was already healed. A frown dented his forehead. He looked mighty angry, as if he wanted to tear apart the wolves chasing her.
She didn’t care. She didn’t trust shifters, any shifters, especially not this one. When he straightened, Ariana backed away, holding out her hands.
She