The trailer at the end of the dirt road cost Sanaa her life savings and then some. A rare surge of pride filled her chest the day she paid it off. The rusted side paneling and leaky windows didn’t matter to her. With no husband, father, or brothers to build a home for her, Sanaa made do with what she could scrape together herself. Luxurious bedding had no place in her humble trailer. Neither did the rich, creamy scent of sandalwood.

Sanaa pried her eyes open, groaning as sunlight flooded her eyes. She heard the baby's gentle squeals, nothing like the cries of terror from before. The comforter draped over her body might as well have been made of cement instead of feathers. Every ounce of strength evaporated from her limbs.

She heard a gruff voice from the other side of the room. “I would stay still if I were you,”

What a stupid thing to say to a woman running for her life. Sanaa flipped over onto her side. A wave of nausea crashed over her. She slumped against the pillows, gasping for breath.

“You should have listened,” the voice said.

“I’ve never been good at that,” she whispered. Now that she was still, Sanaa could feel the gashes the guppies’ claws left behind. Something wasn’t right. Skinwalkers healed as fast as any other shifter.

Sanaa opened her eyes again, this time letting them adjust to the light. A vague sense of familiarity settled over her as the man the voice belonged to came into focus. Her thoughts turned slowly, held back by the guppy demon poison in her veins. Tortured, deep-brown eyes peered at her through black locks, which framed either side of his face. His chiseled jaw was set with barely contained rage. The broad muscles in his chest dwarfed the infant cradled in his arms.

She recognized him, of course. Ronin Nori. His horse, Bandit, like most horses in the country, received veterinary care at the office where Sanaa worked as an assistant. But that wasn’t why she remembered him. The man was beautiful. He was also a romance novelist. His face was plastered on back pages in every grocery store, drug store, bookstore, airport, and train station in the United States. Maybe further.

But the smiling charmer on the paperbacks was nothing like the fierce man slouched in the chair near her. Danger and curiosity lurked just beneath his mild expression. It wasn’t Ronin Nori staring at her. It was the Dragon in the Mountain.

The revelation rose goosebumps on Sanaa’s skin. The Dragon knew exactly who she was, and he wasn’t happy about her being there.

The night she offered herself to the Dragon, Sanaa wondered why he had been so careful to hide his human form from her, blindfolding her, pushing her hands away when they lingered on his body too long. At the time, she wrote it off as the dragon enjoying his sexual dominance. It hadn't occurred to her then that his human identity might be a secret in need of keeping. In fact, she’d been too busy enjoying herself to care. Was that why he banished her?

Her eyes flitted to the baby in his arms. "That's her hungry face. If she doesn't get a boob in her mouth in the next sixty seconds, she'll pitch a fit."

The lie came out more easily than she expected, given her mental fog. Her daughter would fuss and whine when displeased, but she wasn’t a crier. Ronin Nori turned a withering eye to Sanaa. How long had she been unconscious? Apparently, long enough for the Dragon to learn her baby’s temperament. At least twelve hours judging by the sun outside.

He climbed to his feet all the same and passed the baby to her. “You’re already trying my patience, Skinwalker. It’s not in your best interest to make it worse by lying to me.”

Sanaa tugged the hem of the plain white tank top up to her collar bone and brushed her nipple against the baby's cheek. The infant snatched the offered nub between her gums and gulped down mouthfuls of her mother’s milk. “If you’re worried I’ll gossip around town, don’t be.”

The Dragon settled back into his chair and folded his arms across his chest. Somehow, the gesture made him even more threatening. “They wouldn’t believe you. If they did, you’d be in just as much trouble as I would.”

Sanaa turned her eyes toward the baby. “I won’t tell the tribe either.” The Bloodbones were more likely to condemn her for approaching the Dragon than to listen. The unclean had no business approaching a god.

“Do you believe for one second that I would let you into my home if I thought you were a threat?”

The wave of anger that welled in Sanaa took her by surprise. There was an edge of condescension in his tone that pissed her off, but it wasn’t unexpected. The Dragon never spoke to skinwalkers as if they were his equals. They weren't. Every skinwalker in the shadow of the mountain knew their continued existence depended on his tolerance. He could burn every building in the community to cinders without the slightest fear of reprisal. The Bloodbones held the land first, but only by human laws. The strong dominated the world of powyr, and few could match a Dragon. Skinwalkers, with their pacifist traditions, couldn’t even compete.

She bit back the bitter retort that came to her lips. Her daughter's survival depended on her playing the next few minutes well, if not flawlessly. But the venom made it hard to think.

“I wouldn't have come here unless it was a matter of life and death." If there were a single refuge for Sanaa and her daughter, any place at all where they might be safe, she would have run there instead of into the Dragon's mountains. She had some sense, and more than a little pride. Both screamed at her, even now with nowhere else to turn, the Dragon was the last person she should go to for help.

The Dragon screwed his lips upward for a moment. “I believe you. I will hear your request.” Sanaa opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her with a raised hand. “Later. The bathroom is down the hall on the right. The kitchen is straight ahead, though I recommend washing your hands at a minimum. I can still smell the venom."

“Thank you.” If the Dragon was content to delay his ire for the few minutes it took to tend to mundane matters, she was happy to play along. Every second of delay gave her time to think, a necessity as the minion's poison worked its way through her veins.

Ronin jerked his head toward the baby in Sanaa’s arms. “Thank the princess’s ripe diaper. Make a list of things you need from your house. I will go there and–"

"No!" Sanaa shouted before she could help herself.

The Dragon's eyes seemed to catch fire in front of her eyes. His lips curled into a sneer. Sanaa lowered her head, gritting her teeth at having to make a gesture of supplication. "I mean...there won't be anything there. If you can take me into town, I can buy what I need myself."

“Until I decide different, skinwalker, you and that child are under my protection, and you should be thankful for it. We do this my way or you can pack up your shit and leave right now. “

A quiet battle of wills raged in Sanaa's mind. His cocky toned begged for response, but she couldn’t afford to let her tongue get carried away. If the Dragon kicked her out of his sanctuary, she wouldn't find another. What little family she still had living had turned their back on her months before.

Sanaa swallowed. “Can I get some ground rules? I’ll be a lot less likely to piss you off that way.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” he snapped. “For now, there is only one rule: stay in the house unless I say otherwise. The others we will get to if I decide to help you.”

“You want me where you can see me. Fine, but that doesn’t do anything about little miss’s diapers.”

Ronin pulled his cell phone from his pocket and passed it to her. Sanaa brought up the local superstore's website and scrolled with one hand, while she held her daughter with the other. It might have been faster to tell him to get one of everything they had in the baby section, but a bestselling author might take her seriously.

“I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

Ronin snatched the phone from her and slid it back into his pocket. “The only thing I need from you is silence and distance. Meanwhile, bathroom. Kitchen." As he spoke, he pointed in the direction of both rooms as he walked away.

When Sanaa heard a car engine roar to life, she let out a tense breath. Her skin was red and inflamed where they'd scratched her, though little by little the pain faded. How long would it take for her system to metabolize the poison? How long would it be until she was ready to fight again?

Probably longer than she had before the next attack. There was no doubt in her mind it was coming. Even a dragon ally wouldn't spare Sanaa from the hell spawn's Mistress. Bitter tears sprang to her eyes. She wanted so badly to indulge them, but she needed to clean herself and the baby before the Dragon returned. Her presence alone was enough to piss him off. If she caused too much trouble, he might refuse her. Sanaa wiped the tears way with the back of her hand and reached for the baby. There was no time for tears. Her daughter needed a strong mother, a protector.

The dark walker would come for the infant again. Niabe Chavez, her mother, never broke off from the hunt.

* * *

Ronin stumbled into the house, arms filled to the brim with canvas shopping bags. Once he got to the Superstore and checked the Skinwalker woman's list thoroughly, he found it was totally insufficient. Not that he knew what items were required to care for a baby of...however old the child was, but surely even a baby would appreciate the finer things in life. Things like the diapers on the top shelf, with the gleefully, chubby-cheeked baby emblazoned on the box. And the frilly dress which served no earthly purpose, except the blood-red fabric caught his eye. And organic wipes, because who would want their bare ass rubbed with chemicals?

He bought things for the mother, too. Fresh underwear, and blue jeans, and a pair of satin pajama pants which would feel better than flannel or cotton against the injuries to her legs. The baby's sizes were easy enough to guess, he found, but the mother was a different story.

Pregnancy and child birth had changed the skinwalker's form, softened her body, giving rise to luscious curves he ached to run his fingers over. The three-hour shopping trip hadn’t tempered the fire that burned in him. Fuck he wanted her. To taste her on his tongue again, fit their bodies together. To lay claim to her for real this time. But he wasn’t stupid enough to think he could escape bonding a second time. Seducing wasn’t the skinwalker’s game. Not this time.

The Heat hadn’t been half this intense the first time. He’d barely been twenty at the time, just young and dumb enough to mistake the signs for infatuation. They were similar enough, a racing heart, a rock-hard cock, and sudden preoccupation with one woman. Now he knew better. The Heat was only a quirk of biology, another gift from his mysterious parents that he learned to cope with.

Only one sensation was stronger than his need for her…the need she had for him. The memory of her panicked eyes doused Ronin’s fire. That woman and her child needed his protection. He needed them both as far away from his house as they could get. Spells would only hold for so long.

He found her in his kitchen, clinging to a mug of steaming coffee like a life preserver in a raging ocean, a bath towel still wrapped around her breasts. It would be so easy to tear the terrycloth away and expose her breasts to his hungry eyes. Her back stiffened, a small, almost imperceptible movement as he entered. Whatever hell had driven her to him needed to be dealt with quickly.

"What do I owe you?" she asked.

"A fast explanation." There was no way in hell Ronin would accept money from a woman on the run. Not when her eyes were still wet and rimmed in red. He had some pride. "Start with your name, unless you prefer Skinwalker."

She shrugged. "It's accurate, isn't it? But the name is Sanaa."

"And the baby?"

"She doesn't have a name yet." Sanaa turned back to him clutching her cup. Her body language shifted again. She pulled inward, arranging her body in the wooden dining chair to take up as little space as possible. “I hope you don’t mind me making coffee.”

She was afraid of him. Good. The less comfortable she was around him, the better. The strangeness of the encounter alone might be enough. “It’s a four-dollar bag of coffee. Even if I cared, it’s already made.”

Sanaa swallowed. “Okay, so you’re pissed.”

“I said something very specific to you the last time we met. Was I unclear?”

She set the mug aside and looked at him. There was no emotion in her eyes. “Believe me, Dragon, I wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t someone that scared me more than you.” He didn't miss the venom in her words, nor the pain. It seeped into her words, tainting her usually dulcet tones.

The shift in tone coaxed his instincts. The slight bond between them hung in the air, an invisible thread connecting him to Sanaa’s emotions. Ronin curled his lips and took a deep breath. If the skinwalker’s pain intensified the Heat, he would have to tread carefully.

Not that he had the time or patience. “Then let’s get this over with. You can start with who tried to turn your leg into steak tartar.”

"Three weeks ago, a dark walker came to call. She said she only wanted to pay me and my daughter tribute, but I know her better than that."

“You know there are some people who would say a dark walker and a skinwalker aren’t that different.” Modern skinwalkers liked to play pacifist, but their bloody history begged to differ. Tribal wars had driven their numbers down to near extinction.

“Those people are ignorant. Ignorance makes people afraid.”

“More like they don’t want their throats ripped out to still their powyr.”

Sanaa sighed and raked her fingers through her hair. “I’m too tired to argue with you. Think whatever you want. It doesn’t matter.”

Another pang of guilt. Another urge to protect her. Ronin pressed his back against the counter harder. “Why would a dark walker owe you tribute?"

"Because she's my mother, or she was when she still had a soul.”

Ronin quirked an eyebrow. “So?”

“I don’t know how your people do things, but the birth of a grandchild is a big deal for skinwalkers.”

He narrowed his eyes. The urge to comfort her and his annoyance with her presence collided, giving the Heat ample tinder for the fire. Lust. Anger. Guilt. The skinwalker pushed too many emotional buttons. “What happened last night?”

Sanaa swallowed as if to force her own emotions in her throat back down. “My mother sent minions to my trailer. I ran to the only place I thought she wouldn’t follow. “

No, a dark walker with sense wouldn’t go into a dragon’s domain. Adad taught him that much about the world of powyr. Nobody fucked with dragons unless they wanted a roasted ass, and Ronin was lucky enough to have been born one.

Her battered body proved the danger. Her discomfort proved that she hadn’t come to trap him in a mating bond. “Alright, say I take your word for it, what do you expect me to do about it? You can’t stay in my house forever.”

Unless she used his need against him. With the right moves at the wrong time, the skinwalker could lay claim to him for the rest of his life. She would have her own ready-made champion, no begging required, if she could only tame Ronin’s cock. The only thing saving him was that she didn’t know that.

She folded her arms, leaning against the heavy kitchen table. “I’ve never had a dark walker stalking me. I don’t know how far she’ll go, and I don’t want to. I need you to intervene.”

“You expect me to go to a dark walker and negotiate for you? A few sacks of potatoes and some jerky ain’t gonna cut it.”

“A lot more. I don’t want you to talk her down. I need her dead.”

The matter-of-fact way the words spilled from Sanaa's lips shocked him. "She's your mother," he said as if the words really meant anything.

"Niabe stopped being my mother a long time ago. Now she's just an evil bitch who wants to hurt my baby."

“Why don’t you go to your community for help?”

“There’s nobody in my tribe that has the power you do.”

Ronin heard the quiver in her voice. She was trying to convince herself, more than him, of the truth in her words. Her eyes held his, but he didn't miss the way her shoulders trembled. Her world was turned upside down, and only sheer stubbornness and a will to survive was keeping Sanaa upright.

He remembered his own descent into those hellish days all too well. That didn't mean he wanted to get involved in this fight. Blood feuds were messy, emotional battles. The last thing he needed was this woman's emotions mingling with his own.

"There's food in that bag," he said, jerking his thumb toward the one closest to her. "Take it to your room and go to bed."

“Are you going to help me?”

"Go!" Ronin roared, not caring if he frightened her. Let her run screaming if that's what it took to get her to follow his instructions. He barely heard her climb to her feet and scurry down the hall as he closed his eyes and forced down the growing ember in his gut. He couldn't afford to go into a full-blown Heat with the Skinwalker in his home. He would not be tied to her.

Ronin lost track of time as he stood in the kitchen, unseeing eyes fixed on a worn part of the kitchen table. The sun in the sky told him that it couldn't have been more than a few minutes, but it felt like hours. When he was sure the fledgling fire was extinguished again he went to her room.

Sanaa lay in bed on her side, the baby stretched out next to her cooing as it sucked milk from her breast. Ronin knew he couldn't stay long. The sight of the mother tending to her child was enough to bring the ember back to life. But there was a question in his mind, one that had needled him since he found Sanaa at the mountain clearing.

"The father. Why do you not ask him for help?"

It seemed like a simple enough question, and instinct told him there was a piece of the puzzle he was missing. Sanaa's reaction could provide an important clue to the information which eluded him.

She couldn't hide the sadness in her eyes, though she tried. "If I went to him now, he would only help out of obligation. I can't accept help if it isn't freely given. I don't expect you to understand."

He didn't understand, but then again, he didn't need to. Her reasons for not approaching the father were her own, and the pain was too heavy an emotion. It came from her in waves, calling him to her, begging him to soothe it away.

Ronin turned his back to her. Anything to get away from those eyes. "Don't leave the house while I'm gone."

Sanaa sat up, letting her nipple pop out of the baby's mouth. Ronin half expected the girl to start wailing, but only a soft snore came from her. "Wait, you're leaving?"

"The dark walker won't attack you here, not if she values her life. That doesn't mean my perimeter doesn't need to be guarded from others."

"But are you going to help me?"

Ronin glanced over his shoulder at her. There was nothing seductive about the way she knelt on the bed or the panic in her eyes. In another life, Ronin could have lost himself in those eyes. He could have filled libraries with onyx-eyed, raven-haired heroines and never capture the depth he saw in Sanaa. Even her scent wafting beneath his nostrils was too much. He needed distance. Now.

"You'll know in the morning." He was down the hall before Sanaa could speak again, casting his clothes aside as he went. The second he reached the front door he broke into a run until he was far enough down the path to shift into his dragon form.