They flew back into the mountains as fast as they dared. Ronin flew behind Sanaa, scanning the horizon and the ground to make sure they weren't followed. Sanaa kept her eyes forward, straining for first sight of the village. Niabe and the Blood Sorcerer preferred to trap their prey. There was no reason to think they would pursue them.

A jolt of shock ran through Sanaa as Ronin's house came into view. Kane's weathered pick up was still parked in the driveway, but five horses were now tethered to the bed, munching lazily on a bale of hay inside.

Sanaa's heart raced as she released her thunderbird form. A groan of pain escaped her lips as she crashed to the stones. The dragon released his form too, but a haze of glowing particles gathered around Ronin's feet, slowing his descent.

"Are you crazy?!" Ronin roared.

Sanaa struggled to her feet. "The Elders are here!"

He caught her arm as she turned toward the door. "They can fucking wait. You almost got yourself killed back there!"

"That tends to happen when hell beasts made of blood and powyr try to kill you."

Ronin glanced down at Sanaa's body, his eyes narrowing. "You got hurt."

Sanaa followed his gaze to a bloody gash in her abdomen. "I guess she got me after all. I didn't even feel it."

"That's the problem, Sanaa. You changed form while you were fighting a dark walker in the service of a blood sorcerer. Do you have any idea what those two could do with even a single drop of your blood? Let alone the amount you lost while you were too distracted in the battle to pay attention! You fight with your heart but never with your head. It's going to get you killed."

"Who cares? Don't you get it? Nothing matters to me except keeping Shayla safe." She tried to turn again, but Ronin held her arm in a vice grip. The dragon lingered just beneath the surface, showing itself in his flaming eyes and the growl that came from his throat when he spoke.

"You don't get to make decisions like that alone anymore, Sanaa."

"Why the hell not? It's my life!"

“You gave up the right to use that excuse last night.” He dropped the hand that held her arm, letting it fall back to his side. The fury left his eyes, replaced by a weary sadness that was all too familiar. "You're my mate now, Sanaa. It may be an empty romantic notion to you, but it's life and death to me."

Her brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Kane cleared his throat from the doorway. "I'm guessing it didn't go well?"

The sadness disappeared from Ronin's eyes as he turned them to Kane. "About as badly as it could have. Niabe has friends in dangerous places."

Sanaa left Ronin to explain the details of their failure to Kane. She went inside to the kitchen, where the Elders had gathered near the remains of Ronin's scrying set-up. All of them wore loose clothing and grave expressions. Ramon cradled baby Shayla in his arms and dangled a beaded spirit charm in front of her reaching hands.

"Relax, child," he said as he glanced at Sanaa. "We only came as a precaution."

"It might have been a better idea to send you after them," Kane said. "This just hit a whole new level of bad."

Ramon held up his hand to silence Kane. "Take the baby into the next room and watch over her. Let her spirit remain at peace for a while longer."

Kane did as instructed, scooping Shayla out of Ramon's arms and whisking her away to the bedroom. Sanaa wanted to follow more than anything she'd ever wanted in her life. She wanted to scoop her daughter into her arms and shower kisses on her soft skin for as long as she could. But they were running out of time to save her. With every encounter, Sanaa felt the danger of losing her baby growing stronger.

"I take it Niabe was stronger than you thought?" Elena asked.

“She isn't the only problem," Ronin said of The Elders' confused expressions. “Niabe’s in the employ of what we call a blood worker, a sorcerer with a command of powyr that I haven't seen in years."

The color drained from Ramon's face, leaving his skin with an ashen undertone. "Does he know about the tribe?"

"I don't know, but it's a safe bet she told him. He's not going to make a direct move on the village yet. His powyr is stronger, but he hasn’t lasted this long by being stupid. He won’t attack the village until he's sure he can beat me.”

"Can he?" Sanaa asked.

“In a powyr fight…yes."

The answer knocked the air from Sanaa's lungs. Ronin was the strongest warrior in the tribe. The only one with real experience and permission to fight for Shayla. If Channing could beat him....

"What do we do?" Bastian asked.

"I don't see how this is any different," Omar said. "It's just one more person for Ronin to beat."

"One more person who has already tempted one of our tribe into darkness and set his sights on our newest babe," Ramon said. "We've already lost Niabe to him, I will not lose anyone else."

"But I don't think she is lost," Sanaa said.

All six pairs of eyes in the room turned to her, each obviously unable to fathom her words.

Janaa pushed her glasses up on her nose. "Child, please not his again. We've been through this over and over."

Sanaa held her ground. "I'm not a child, Janna, and I know what I saw."

"What is it you saw, Sanaa?" Elena asked.

"Regret. Twice she warned me to take the blood worker’s offer, but I don't think it was a threat either time." As she spoke, Sanaa met the eyes of everyone in the room, noting the disbelief and pity in their eyes. It only made her words even more emphatic. "A dark walker never shows regret or remorse. You all taught me that."

"One might," Ronin said gently. "If she were trying to convince her daughter that she could be saved. Fostering false hope in you could keep her alive long enough to get Shayla and Niabe knows it."

Sanaa shook her head. "Damn it, stop talking to me like a heartbroken child who just lost her mommy. I said my goodbyes to Niabe a long time ago. She may hardly be my mother anymore, but if there is a chance she still has light in her then Niabe Chavez is still our sister. She deserves our help if we can provide it and our mercy if we can't do any better."

"As long as Niabe is under the influence of this blood sorcerer she is beyond the embrace of the tribe. As long as she threatens this child she is our enemy. I know what you want to believe, Sanaa. There's nothing that would make me happier than to welcome Niabe back–"

"Then save her!"

Ramon shook his head. "We can't sacrifice the young in a vain attempt to recover the old. If we did, we would be no better than dark walkers."

Sanaa hung her head. There was never much chance that the Elders or the Dragon would listen to her. For all the confidence she tried to imbue in her voice, even she couldn't be sure of Niabe's motives. She proved over and over that she had no problem manipulating Sanaa's emotions when it benefited her.

"We need a plan," Ramon said. "Now. This blood worker will not let your retreat stand for long. Not if he believes he can beat you."

Ronin folded his arms across his chest. “He doesn’t know for sure he can. I didn’t fight as a dragon, it would have been too risky. If that damned thing that Niabe shifted into gets a hold of my blood we're fucked on a level we can't come back from."

“But wouldn’t giving them your blood give them what they want from Shayla?” Bastian asked.

“He won’t be satisfied with her blood,” Sanaa said. “He wants her for his own.”

"How can you prevent them from drawing blood in the middle of a fight?" Bastian asked.

"We see how well it worked for me," Sanaa said, motioning to her already healing wound.

"I can't. The next encounter has to be our last stand."

Ramon looked to the Warriors. Omar shrugged. Elena rubbed her forehead. "You're suggesting we turn the predator into the prey."

Ronin nodded. "Your people aren’t warriors, but you are hunters, right? What do you do when you need to hunt but can't get the upper hand on the animal?"

Sanaa stared at Ronin. Something about his words rankled her, but she couldn't put her finger on what. At least, not until the second before the words left Ramon's mouth. By then she was already halfway out of the kitchen, heading for the bedroom.

"We set a trap. We use bait."

"Wait–" Ronin reached out to grab Sanaa's arm.

She pivoted, dodging his grasp as she snatched the ceremonial dagger from the table. Ronin grabbed her wrist as she brandished the weapon at him. In one smooth motion, he raised her arm over her head and pushed her body against the empty wall behind her.

"Calm down, Sanaa," he whispered.

Sanaa twisted, trying to wrench herself free from his grasp. "You're not using her as bait."

Ronin rolled his eyes and pulled Sanaa into his arms. "I can make an image of her in powyr. With a few drops of her blood, it will be convincing enough for a trap."

Relief washed over Sanaa, followed by a flush of embarrassment as she realized her reaction might have been overkill. It would have been fair for Ronin to point out the overreaction. Instead, he held her, stroking her arm to comfort her as he turned to Ramon.

"You'll need your strongest to defend the village. I can't promise that I can contain the fight to the outskirts."

“The Elders will defend the village," Ramon said. "But Niabe knows it well. If she gets past your assault, she won't have any trouble finding the baby."

"What if I take Shayla someplace else?” Sanaa asked. “Somewhere Niabe and Channing won't think to look."

Ronin shook his head. “She’ll track you too easily, love. It has to be someone she can’t find. Ideally, someone who can fight.”

"Kane has combat experience,” Elena said. "And he shares Shayla's blood. He should be given the honor of guarding her."

Ramon’s expression darkened. The Bloodbones, like all skinwalkers, were pacifists. Kane was a soldier, and only a few steps from exile himself.

Ronin must have read his reluctance. The Dragon lowered his head, his gaze fixed on Ramon. “None of us can be in two places at once. We don’t have enough fighters to leave anyone off the field.”

The Chief folded his arms across his chest. “Let us hear your plan.”

* * *

Over the next hour, Ronin laid out every minute of the next day. Kane and Shayla would go into the mountains at first light. Ronin and Sanaa would use the illusion to draw Channing and Niabe into a final showdown. They would draw the battle away from the village, but the Elders would protect the tribe if it came to it.

The Warrior Elders begrudgingly agreed to the Dragon's plan and everyone went to their separate corners to rest. Everyone except Sanaa, who, after a much-needed shower, lingered in the living room mulling over Ronin's words.

It may be an empty, romantic notion to you, but it's life and death to me.

She could still hear the echo of panic in his voice, see the weary sadness in his eyes. As the rush of adrenaline from the battle faded, the image of his eyes grew more vivid in her memory.

During the battle, Sanaa's every thought rested on Shayla's safety. She hadn't spared a thought for Ronin's safety. She had not seen most of his fight. He had watched hers so closely that he turned his back on Channing when Sanaa was cornered.

She heard Ronin's heavy footsteps as he approached, but she didn't turn to look at him. If he planned to lecture her again, she wasn't going to make it easy. But the Dragon sat down behind her, forcing her body forward on the cushions as he surrounded her with his powerful legs.

"You're brooding," he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

The urge to melt in his arms was tremendous. Sanaa gave into it without hesitation, letting his warmth drive the tension from her body. Her first instinct was to correct him, to point out that she was only thinking, which wasn't half as intense as brooding, but the ease of their physical connection distracted her.

"Even if you were right, how could you tell?"

His lips grazed her shoulder, sending shivers of pleasure down her spine. There was nothing tentative about his touch or his hardness pressed against her back. He made no attempt to hide his need for her, but Ronin's touch was as close to chaste as the Dragon ever managed to be with her.

"You won't believe me," he said. "But I can tell."

He wanted her. Badly. He would take her right there if she let him, but only when whatever doubts lingered in her mind had been laid to rest.

She couldn't remember when she had grown accustomed to Ronin's easy displays of affection, let alone when she started to depend on them for support. But the sad truth was she needed his support more than ever now and in anyway he cared to give it. Sanaa had spent her whole adult life avoiding dependence, yet here she was seeking the reassurance of his arms. She channeled her frustration into a sigh.

"There are some things you aren't telling me, aren't there?" she asked.

He rested his chin on her shoulder, sweeping her fingers into his hands. "Probably a great many things, but none of them deliberately. Everybody has things they don't talk about."

Sanaa wasn't fooled for a second, but she understood his deflection. These quiet moments were so rare, it seemed a shame to destroy one for the sake of curiosity. "Not with the woman they have a child with and call their mate. If you don't tell me, Niabe will. At the worst moment possible."

A sigh of defeat escaped Ronin's lips. He pulled Sanaa closer, his fingers teased her skin just beneath the hem of her bath towel. "I told you dragons mate for life but a dragon, if they are lucky, may have more than one mate in their lifetime. Evette was my first."

"Your first mate?"

"My first everything," he said. "When I could stand to talk about her at all, I used to say that losing Evette almost killed me, but I was sugarcoating it. I knew full well parts of me died with her. At least, I thought they had. I was a hollow shell until you summoned me. At the time, it suited me fine."

Sanaa closed her eyes, letting his words settle in her mind. There was still so much love in his voice when he talked about Evette, but she could hear the pain of loss too, still red and raw as if it had happened days before rather than years. A strange instinct overwhelmed her, a need to comfort him.

She buried her fingers in his hair as he left a trail of kisses down her neck. Each touch of his lips drew left blazing heat in its wake, stoking the fires of their need for one another. "That's why you get so angry when I rush into battle. That's why you always try to leave me behind."

Ronin threaded his fingers through her hair, tugging gently at the strands to expose more of her neck to his probing tongue and caressing lips. The thumb of his free hand caressed her cheek as he pulled away again. He didn't speak until Sanaa opened her eyes and craned her neck to look at him. "I lost Evette to random chance, an accident that nothing but temperance and luck could have prevented. I will not lose you and Shayla because—”

The Dragon buried the words in another kiss, but she knew what he meant. He would not lose another mate because he was too weak to defend her.

His gaze burned into her skin, drawing her arousal to the surface like water from a well. But it was the sincerity that touched her most. The deep, earnest look in the dragon's usually flaming eyes. It told her that everything he was saying was true, as was everything he left unsaid.

For him, Shayla's safety was only part of the mission. If Sanaa died in battle, Ronin would blame himself, and it would haunt him forever.

"I'm that important to you already?" she asked. Part of her didn't want to know the answer. True love, soul mates, whatever they called it. All of it was too heavy and consuming to think about. It was better to close her eyes and enjoy the cool air against her skin as pulled the towel away.

"You were from the moment I saw you. This time I won't be stupid enough to throw you away." In an instant, his lips were back to her neck, his fingers teasing her thighs.

"Basically, you're saying we got married yesterday, and I didn't get the memo."

Ronin chuckled, shaking his head. "No, that isn't quite how I would put it."

"Because that's not how it is, or because you know if you say yes I'll get pissed?"

In response, Ronin dipped his fingers between her thighs. Sanaa moaned, a small smile coming to her lips. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He caressed her, chuckling again as her sounds of protest dissolved into moans of pleasure. The answer didn't matter, in the end. Titles and definitions could wait until they survived. If they survived.

The night before the last battle wasn't the night for those conversations. It was better to lay under the stars, explore one another's bodies, gasp as each movement spurned ever greater heights of pleasure, to cling to him as the last shocks of ecstasy faded. It was a night for her to remember that it wasn't enough to win. For her daughter, for her mate, she had to survive.