Blood oozed over Ronin’s skin. He could taste the coppery foulness of it in his mouth, mingled with dust from the air that settled on his tongue as he screamed. Channing sucked the life from Ronin again and again, stealing his strength and adding it to his own. It wasn’t so much a fight as a slow, painful slaughter.

When the ringing in his ears finally stopped, Ronin heard Channing’s laughter. “You’re made of heartier stuff than I thought, Dragon.”

He slumped back against the rocks again and caught his breath. Three or four more rounds of it and Ronin would be down for good. But he hadn’t heard the thunderbird’s piercing wail in some time. Too long for it to be anything other than a bad sign. Sanaa had to make it. She had to.

Ronin pushed himself to his knees. There was no time to worry, no time to grieve. If Sanaa lost to Niabe, then Ronin was about to be outnumbered. He was out of time.

He raised his hand, calling a swirling mass of fire powyr to it. “Let’s end this, Channing.”

“I quite agree.”

Ronin broke into a run. Every dodge altered his path, but he pressed forward, closing the last few feet between them.

“Ronin!” Sanaa rounded the bend at full speed. Deep purple bruises and fresh blood covered her tawny skin, but she was alive.

A swell of emotion nearly overcame Ronin, but he pushed on. There was no time to celebrate. He kicked off the canyon wall, twisting his position a final time to take aim at Channing. “Duck!”

Sanaa dropped to the ground as the fire ball smashed into the blood sorcerer’s chest, sending him flying and crashing to the ground. She scrambled to her feet and ran over to him, joining him in unstrapping Shayla. When she was free, he slid the infant into Sanaa’s arms and pushed them both toward an outcropping of rocks. “Take cover!”

Too late. Another blast of powyr struck Ronin between the shoulders. He fell to his knees, sinking his fingers into the ground and clenching his teeth to hold back the screams.

His mate reached to pull him out of the way. He waved her off. “Don’t let it touch you!”

Sanaa watched with horror in her eyes. “What’s happening?”

“Stay back!” Ronin rolled onto his back and launched a ball of blazing powyr at Channing.

“What’s happening, Sanaa, is your lover is about to meet a very painful end.”

Ronin fired again, a narrow miss that sent the sorcerer sprawling for cover. A biting retort sprang to his mind and disappeared just as quickly. Any energy he could put into talking would be better spent fighting.

“I can’t shift,” Sanaa said.

He fired again. A direct hit. The cape around Channing’s shoulders went ablaze. He batted at the flaming material, screaming in pain as the first singed his hands.

“When I say so, make a run for it,” he whispered

Sanaa shook her head. “I won’t get away fast enough.”

“You should reconsider my offer, Sanaa. When the Dragon dies, I could be a good friend to have.”

Ronin looked to his mate. Fierce pride burned in his chest as he saw that she did not for one second consider Channing’s offer. Even now, pinned against a canyon wall, their terrified daughter in her arms, she put her complete trust in him.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Two days before, Sanaa’s brow would have wrinkled at the words. Doubt came as naturally for her as breathing. But an easy smile came to her lips as if a blood sucker bent on killing them didn’t lurk on the other side of her sanctuary. Whatever the next few moments brought, they would face it together.

“I love you, too.”

“Get as far back as you can. When I give the signal, jump on my back. It’ll make sense when you see the signal.”

“That’s a valiant sentiment, Dragon, but we both know how this ends. You’re clever, but you don’t have the powyr to craft a spell complex enough to take me down.”

Sanaa strapped Shayla to her chest while Ronin kept Channing occupied. She climbed to her feet when she finished, pressing her back against the canyon wall to stay out of sight. “Ready when you are.”

“I would be worried about that, except for one thing. Dragon isn’t just a title. Go!”

Sanaa ducked out from behind the rocks and raced down the path deeper into the canyon.

Ronin didn’t check to make sure she was clear. He had faith that she would get far enough away. It took every bit of energy he had left, but he called forth his dragon form.

Sanaa jumped on his back as his body expanded and elongated. Ronin took flight, rising off the floor of the canyon, pulling his mate and child out of the blood sorcerer’s grasp.

Channing glared up at the massive tricolored dragon over his head, his eyes blazing in fury. The horse, on the other hand, squealed in fear at the sight of the dragon. He broke free of Channing’s hold, galloping away from the mythical beast as fast as his legs could carry him.

For the first time since Niabe’s first attack, Ronin had nothing to fear from unleashing the full force of his dragon form. There were no innocent civilians in the canyon. Sanaa carried Shayla safely off his back, scrambling for the top of the canyon walls to give him the space he needed.

He opened his mouth, unleashing a torrent of dragon fire into the canyon below. For a moment, he saw Channing scrambling back up the path before the flames over took him.

Relief washed over Ronin. Niabe and Channing were gone. Sanaa and Shayla were safe. When he realized that his family was no longer in danger, Ronin’s strength faded.

The world around him dimmed, first around the edges, then in wide streaks that made deciphering any object impossible.

He couldn’t fly if he couldn’t see.

“Ronin, wake up!” Sanaa’s blood-curdling screams were muffled when they reached his ears as if he heard them through cotton candy.

Everything spun around him. The sky and ground switched places at will with no rhyme or reason. And then there was the darkness. Growing in his vision. Blotting out the world until there was nothing at all.

* * *

Sanaa shifted in her chair, hoping a little movement would bring the feeling back into her rear. She had long since lost track of how many hours she sat at Ronin’s bedside hunched over their sleeping daughter, the Dragon’s limp hand clutched between hers. Sanaa didn’t bother turning on the bedside lamp. Her muscles were still too heavy and sore from Niabe’s venom. She and Shayla had gotten more than enough light and heat for one day.

Now and then her eyelids grew too heavy, and she let them drift close. Each time she was rewarded with the chilling image of Ronin’s lifeless body plummeting out of the air. For three awful seconds back in the canyon, Sanaa thought the fall had killed Ronin. She could still feel the wave of relief that washed over her when a pained gasp came from his lips. The Dragon in the Mountain, her mate, had beaten a blood sorcerer…and lived.

At least that’s how the Elders would tell the story to future generations of skinwalkers. They wouldn’t talk about the aftermath. How the Dragon and his mate lay beside the blazing canyon, him broken and bloody, her cut off from her imprint. The rescue effort, mounted by the Chief and the Tribunars in Kane’s old pick up, wouldn’t make it into future retellings. Heroes didn’t need saving. They didn’t die in their bed hours after the final battle had been won.

But hours after the battle Ronin lay limp in bed. Even when the wounds and bruises from the fall faded, the Dragon didn’t wake. Nothing Sanaa did brought any reaction from him.

“Now would be a good time for you to wake up, Dragon,” she whispered.

Ronin’s quick, ragged breaths filled the silence, joined by the murmurs of the Elders. In the hours since they brought Ronin back to the house, the kitchen of Casa de Firebreather had become a remote base for the leaders. Sanaa couldn’t hear the topic of their conversations, but she could guess. Clan Bloodbone was in crisis.

Someone walked into the room and put a hand on Sanaa’s shoulder. Sanaa didn’t need to look up, to know that it was Ramon. As both their leader and her only living blood relative, he was the only one who would enter the bedroom. Nobody else would want to be with Sanaa if the worst happened. None of them would feel worthy of it.

When the Bloodbones told the story of that day, nobody would talk about Ramon’s intuition. Instinct told him something had gone catastrophically wrong. The black smoke from the burning canyon led him to them before cops came to investigate. Sanaa would remember. She would make sure Shayla remembered.

“How is he?” He asked.

Sanaa climbed to her feet, wincing at the tingling that shot through her limbs. “No better. No worse.”

“He’s still fighting,” Ramon whispered.

“He would probably say that’s what dragons do.”

“We can send messengers to the other tribes. Ask them to lend us their healers.”

“Do you really think they’ll help when they find out a dragon joined us?”

Ramon shook his head. “Not for cheap. It would take resources or blood.”

Sanaa shook her head. “He needs blood in his veins, not spilled in his name. There’s been enough violence.”

He shrugged. “It may not be something we can avoid. One dragon in our tribe threatens the balance, let alone two. The other clans will react. If not this day then another. Our survival depends on us being prepared, but we can’t agree without more voices commenting.”

As much as she wanted to argue, Sanaa knew the Chief was right. The truce that kept the skinwalker clans at peace relied on nobody acquiring too much strength.

“What do the traditions say? Who gets to comment?”

“According to Bastian, the word of our strongest warriors carries more weight in matters of war than the Elder Council.”

That must have been the source of all the chatter Sanaa heard from the living room. “I could have saved you the walk, Ronin can’t comment on anything at all.”

“I’m not looking for his input. I’m here for yours.”

From outcast to warrior in less than a week. It must have been the fastest change of status in Bloodbone history. Bastian would probably tell her as much later. Change never came easily for Sanaa, but her comfort wasn’t important anymore. Her daughter deserved every advantage they could provide her. Nothing else would do for the child of a dragon.

“Then I say no war. We bolster our defenses and hold our ground. Anybody who wants to talk, we deal with diplomatically. If they want to fight, we become a rock and if they want to break themselves against us…so be it.”

Ramon tilted his chin upward. “So be it.” He disappeared back into the living room.

“There may be hope for the Bloodbones after all,” Ronin whispered.

Sanaa exhaled, letting her shoulders slump. “What took you so long?” She narrowed her eyes, but the huge smile on her face gave away that she wasn’t angry. It was too good to hear his voice.

“Woman, I lost half of my blood volume!”

“If you lost that much, you’d be dead,” she said as she stretched out on the bed beside him, wedging her body against his. “For a while there, I wasn’t sure— ”

“It will take more than a pompous ass of a blood sorcerer to separate us, Sanaa.” Ronin stroked Shayla’s chubby cheek with one finger.

“I hope you mean that. Defense and diplomacy will only work for so long. Sooner or later somebody will turn it into a fight.”

Ronin’s eyes burned with pride as he gazed at Sanaa and their daughter. “Let them try.”

Sanaa closed her eyes, letting the confidence in her mate’s voice wash over her. There was no doubt in her mind that Ronin would make good on the threat. She would be there to help him every step of the way. To guide their daughter and their people. To protect their tribe, their home, from anyone stupid enough to threaten them.