Sanaa pulled the baby back into her arms and struggled to her feet. Ronin had a fleeting thought that he should go to her, help her steady herself, but he was too consumed by his own shock to move. Sanaa left the makeshift community center without saying another word. Ronin stayed behind with the brainless, skinwalker Elders, each of them staring at him with slack jaws.

The Seer spoke, her high voice reminding him of a meddler from one of his stories. Meddlers always had a way of butting into the narrative when nobody wanted them there, dropping information they thought helpful. Mostly, it just bogged things down. “Dragon...if what that girl says is true..."

He counted the weeks in his head, though he already knew Sanaa was telling the truth. Hadn't he been marveling at the changes in her body since he last had her? The way pregnancy had softened her curves?

"It is," Ronin snapped. "And I will not be judged by the likes of you."

He turned and strode toward the exit, catching up to Sanaa easily as she walked toward his horse. Rage flared again as Ronin grabbed her by the arm and turned her around. But the angry words died on his lips as his eyes met hers.

Sanaa stared at him with heavy, red-rimmed eyes. There was no passion in her expression, no fire in her trembling body. Whatever treatment she had endured from her tribe had broken her. She'd surrendered the last pieces of herself to save her daughter's life—their daughter's life–because of his weakness.

Anger welled in Ronin's chest again, this time aimed at himself. He'd been so desperate to avoid entanglements, he left his woman and child at the mercy of backward scavengers. They may have shattered her, but his cowardice had given them the ammunition.

That was finished. The urge to reject the bond to Sanaa was nothing compared to the blood-burning need he felt to keep her safe. And other, less honorable, urges that were getting harder to ignore.

"You will not kneel to them again," he said. She wouldn't bow to anyone ever again. Not if he had a say.

She looked at him, brow furrowed in confusion. Ronin didn’t elaborate. There were more pressing matters to deal with.

“Where is your home? We need to go there and collect your things.” It would be a cold day in hell before he let her or the baby spend another night surrounded by the skinwalkers. They were his to protect.

Sanaa stared at him for a moment as if she heard his words, but didn’t understand them. “I told you…there’s nothing left there.”

“There might be something inside it worth saving.”

Had this woman no memories? No trinkets of sentimental value? For fuck’s sake, she had an infant!

“Even if there was, how would we get it back up in the mountains? Are you gonna change and fly it up there? Leave me to ride a horse up a trail, I don’t know, with a baby on my back?”

Ronin bared his teeth at her, hating that she was right. If he had known what he was riding into, he would have prepared better. At a minimum, he would have fought for her from the beginning. Hell, he would have asked more about her position in the community.

But you didn’t ask because you didn’t want to know too much about her.

"Sanaa?" A voice called as heavy footsteps approached them. Ronin turned to see a male Skinwalker with russet skin and close-cropped black hair. His deep-set black eyes jerked from Ronin back to Sanaa as the smile on his face wavered.

A weak smile came to Sanaa's lips, just barely grazing her eyes. "Kane! I didn't know you were back."

The man, Kane, turned his eyes toward the infant in Sanaa's arms. The girl was awake now–probably from the tension emanating from her mother–and rewarded the attention with a toothless grin.

“You must be the one all the fuss is about.” The skinwalker’s voice rose to the high, sing-song timber people used with infants. “Aren’t you a little sweetheart?”

“She’s none of your concern, skinwalker," Ronin grunted. He placed a hand on Sanaa's shoulder and turned her away from the man. "Let's go."

Sanaa shrugged out of his grasp. "Oh, stop it. He’s my cousin. Kane, this is–"

"The Dragon in the Mountain,” Kane said as he looked Ronin up and down. "I heard the shouting. Dad will come around, Sanaa. You just have to give him a chance to process this. You know how he is about change.”

“He’s had thirteen months to work through it,” Ronin said.

Kane raised an eyebrow. “How long have you had?”

A low growl rumbled in Ronin’s chest. The words stung more than he cared to admit. Or was it the way she shied away from his touch that had him on edge?

The male skinwalker smiled in triumph and turned back to Sanaa. “I’ve got a pickup with a clean cargo hold. It’s yours for the day if you need it. I’ll even throw in some muscle for free.

As much as he hated to admit it, the Skinwalker annoyed Ronin far less once he proved himself useful. But Sanaa shook her head. “You know I can’t. I’m in enough trouble as it is. So are you.”

Kane wrapped his arm around Sanaa’s shoulders. “Please, he hasn’t stopped riding my ass since I left for boot camp. What’s another lecture or ten?”

It was only a short walk to Sanaa's trailer, but it took nearly twenty minutes since she refused to do the reasonable thing and climb onto Bandit's back and neither man was willing to leave her side.

Ronin didn't understand Sanaa’s reluctance to return to her home until he saw the devastation with his own eyes. The word "home" would have been generous for the rusted trailer in the best of times, but the attack left the pitiful thing tipped over on its side. Broken glass stained with black fluid from the frenzied hell spawn littered the dirt.

Kane climbed up the side of the trailer and lowered himself inside to grab what he could. Ronin stayed beside his daughter and Sanaa. He could feel the eyes of the tribe watching them, but none of the other skinwalkers came to bother them or to help. It was just as well, Ronin wasn't sure he could be close to one of them without ripping out their throats. Someone needed to absorb the brunt of his wrath.

Ronin led the way back up the mountain path on Bandit's back while Sanaa and the infant rode in the truck. When they arrived, Sanaa disappeared into the house, probably to feed and bathe their fussing daughter.

Their daughter. Another pang of guilt. Ronin stowed Bandit in the stable and returned to the house to find Kane leaning against his pickup truck, arms folded across his chest.

"I thought we'd have us a chat, you and I," he said.

Ronin let the dragon come to the surface. "I've had enough of your kind for one day."

Kane canted his head toward the door. "She's had enough hurt for a lifetime. Are you planning to add to it?"

"Careful, boy. You're insulting a dragon on his own land. That isn’t wise if you value your health or your life."

The skinwalker held the dragon's gaze, passion flashing in his eyes though a smile came to his lips. "I'm asking the man who knocked up my cousin what his intentions are. Given the circumstances I think that’s more than a fair question. There's no call to be insulted unless you plan to fuck her over more than you already have."

The silence was damning, but Ronin didn't have an answer to fill it. Anger and disgust had consumed him since he set foot in the community center. No, before that. Since he rode into town on his horse and saw the conditions in which Sanaa and the child lived. The target of his venom had only shifted in the intervening hour, from the village, to the Elders, to Sanaa, and finally to himself, but the strength of it never ebbed. Rage was a far more fitting emotion for a dragon to indulge than self-loathing.

"If you really want to help her, go back to the Elders. Ask them for absolution for your sins.”

“You people have a fucked up sense of priority. A dark walker attacks her trailer, and all anybody can talk about are sins and slights. Who fucking cares?”

“We do. She does.”

Ronin quirked an eyebrow. The skinwalker had an answer for everything. “I don’t. I’ll deal with the dark walker myself. Whether you all have the stomach to help doesn’t matter to me.”

Kane shook his head. “Damned fool, you don’t even know why you went there today, do you?”

“She had some idea that your old men would help her. Clearly she was mistaken.”

“You thought a bunch of pacifists living in the desert were going to help her take on a dark walker?” The skinwalker didn’t bother to hide his amusement.

Now that he heard it out loud, it did strike Ronin as stupid. What could they have done that he couldn’t? Not a damned thing.

“Are you saying she set me up?”

“That’s not like her. If she wanted to tell them, she would have done it already. It would have saved her a lot of pain.”

“I won't answer to decrepit, old men for a moment of weakness.” The words on his tongue left a film of guilt, which only enraged Ronin more. His own foolishness had condemned Sanaa and his daughter. His foolishness and the memory of a woman he lost long ago. The guilt was as much for the baby as it was for Sanaa, and he hated, in that moment, to be reminded of either of them.

Most men would have the good sense to back down when staring a pissed-off dragon in the face. Kane, however, kept right on going. "I don't know how dragons handle their affairs, but skinwalkers take care of their own.”

"I've seen the care your kind takes, and I'm not impressed."

"Knock it off!" Sanaa stepped back into the entranceway, padding along the stones in her bare feet. "I can handle it, Kane."

Clearly, the other skinwalker wasn't convinced. "He needs to know what's expected of him."

"I said I can handle it. Go home before they start saying I’m corrupting you or something.“

Sanaa wasn't giving an inch, and, in the face of his raging cousin, Kane finally backed down. His expression softened and he nodded, reaching toward her with open arms.

“You win, kiddo.”

Hell no! Ronin roared, eyes blazing and fire coming to his chest as he swung his fist, connecting square with Kane's jaw and sending the Skinwalker crashing to the dirt.

"What the hell?" she shouted, fury flashing in her eyes. Damn, those black eyes were beautiful when kissed by fury. All Ronin had to do was reach out and rip the flimsy tank top from her chest to expose her milk-filled breasts to the air, to his fingers–

Kane's boisterous laugh broke through Ronin's roving thoughts. "Think I just got my answer," he said as he climbed to his feet and brushed the dirt from his jeans.

Sanaa's brow furrowed and her eyes moved back to her cousin. Pity. "About what?"

"Never mind, Sanaa. My number is still the same. Call me if you need anything, and I'll do what I can."

"Sanaa and my daughter will never want for anything, Skinwalker."

"Fucking, enough!" Sanaa said through gritted teeth. Kane had already climbed into the cab of his truck and turned the engine over.

Sanaa watched as the truck pulled back down the path and disappeared around the bend. Ronin watched her, lamenting the worry that filtered into her expression. That was no good either. His woman's mind should never be uncertain. A dragon's woman needed to be strong to raise their young, to foster their community. He had to do better for her. For both of them.

"Whatever you have to say to me...can it wait until morning?" she asked.

The softness in her tone called to him. It sapped the anger from him, replacing it with an instinct to wrap her in his arms to shield her.

Ronin planted his feet in place. "Just this once."

Without another word, Sanaa turned and disappeared back into the house. Ronin stayed outside, watching the empty space she left behind, a single question in his mind.

When the hell did Sanaa become his woman?

* * *

Hours after sunset, Ronin sat on his front stoop, staring at the stars. Details of the day since Sanaa called for his help played in his mind. The child had been excited to see him when he found them in the mountains. Had the blood they shared spoken to her? Had she known then her father had come to her rescue before even he did?

You think losing once means you can quit, Dragon? Fairy tales are for children. The rest of us have to get off our asses and find something useful to do.

It had been five years since Ronin last laid eyes on Adad, yet he could hear his mentor’s voice in his ears, as if the man himself was there. Those were dark years for him. Adad held him together, taught him everything he knew about powyr and the wyrd. His lessons always boiled down to one basic principle: get off your ass and make yourself useful.

But Ronin was a better wallower than anything else. Some hurts ran too deep to be put aside. The loss of a mate wasn’t something a dragon could shake off like a bad breakup. He never took well to that aspect of Adad’s teachings. If the white-haired, tan-skinned wizard could see his student now, he would punch Ronin in the jaw on general principle.

Mesopotamians, the ancients among the , feared no one, not even dragons.

Adad, at least the figment of him in Ronin’s mind, could bitch and moan all he wanted to. He wasn’t the one who had to sort out a cluster fuck of his own making.

Ronin rubbed his temples to keep the encroaching headache at bay. The ache wasn’t just in his head. A slow surge of blood flowed to his cock.

The Heat was on him. There was no point in denying it now. If falling in love was like getting hit by a truck, going into Heat was like getting blasted into the center of the sun. Sex on the brain around the clock. The only speck of mercy was that the cycles only happened once every few years.

Ronin had just enough blood running to his brain to know claiming Sanaa would spin the cluster fuck into epic proportions.

He took his aching stiffness in his hands, stroking it through the thin material of his pants.

There was a time when Ronin looked forward to the periodic surges of passion. Now he dreaded them. For years Ronin suffered through the cycles in solitude, avoiding women simply by nature of the fact that he avoided everyone. Over time, he learned that with enough distraction and the right combination of spells, he could ignore the beginning of the Heat completely.

Sanaa changed all that. Before her, he never considered claiming another mate. Now he couldn’t think of anything but her and the chubby-cheeked infant. His daughter, who didn’t even have a name.

She was still young. That bond hadn’t been spoiled completely. Her mother was another matter. Salvaging even a friendship from that jumble of guilt and pain would take a miracle. In Ronin’s experience, it was easier to write miracles than to create them. If he wanted to be part of his daughter’s life, pulling one out of his ass was essential.

He didn’t know where to begin. How could one truly make up for a destroying someone’s entire world because he the thought of her getting close was too intense for him to handle? Dealing with the dark walker was a start, but sooner or later, saving Sanaa wouldn’t be enough. He would have to earn her trust.

* * *

Four rooms away, Sanaa lay on her side in the King-sized bed. She stroked her daughter's cheek with one finger as the child nursed greedily from her breast. “Poor thing. You have no idea how much trouble your dumbass mother has gotten you into.”

The dragon's lair was safe enough for the moment. Sanaa wasn't stupid enough to think that her mother would sit on her ass twiddling her thumbs. She had probably already tried another wave of demons, but called them back when she realized a dragon stood in the way. Sanaa would have done the same, were she in Niabe's position.

Twenty-four hours without an attack was a small blessing, but Sanaa’s muscles wouldn’t relax. She jumped at every noise, eyes scanning the room for tiny grey monsters. Niabe was in her hiding place planning, Sanaa needed to be doing the same thing.

Sanaa's eyes flicked to the door. The dragon was somewhere on the other side of it, probably still trying to process things. Ronin hadn't spoken to her since she asked to delay his wrath. She'd been waiting for him to unleash it since the moment she revealed her secret to the Elders. But as Kane drove away, she felt the Dragon's anger rising. Too much had happened that day. She couldn’t face the Dragon’s wrath without bursting into tears. Like hell she would let him see her be weak. Even if she felt it.

It was only putting off the inevitable. She didn't feel any stronger now than when she’d walked out of the community center. Sunlight and a few hours’ sleep wouldn’t make facing Ronin’s anger any easier. But she couldn’t make herself get out of bed and find him.

"I fucked up pretty bad, baby girl," she whispered.

Her daughter let out a soft snore in response.

"Well, at least one of us gets to sleep soundly tonight." Sanaa pulled her nipple from the baby's mouth and fluffed the blankets around her.

A loud thump rang through the room. Something massive crashed into the bedroom window and shrieked in pain, a piercing sound that penetrated the glass and thick wall.

Sanaa leaned forward and covered the baby, heart pounding. The girl screamed and wailed, making her displeasure at being woken known. Not even one night. Niabe hadn't given them one night. “Dragon!”

Heavy footsteps pounded in the hallway. Ronin burst into the room. "What happened?"

Before Sanaa could answer, another heavy mass slammed into the window, shattering it.

"Shit, come on!" Ronin grabbed Sanaa's waist and slid her from the bed and onto her feet. He ushered her into the living room, clicking his tongue softly. "Stand right there."

Sanaa clutched the baby to her chest, her eyes darting around the room. "There's too much glass here. They’ll come through it.“

“They won’t get past me. If they do, this will stop them.” Ronin pulled a satchel from a trunk by the door. He sprinkled it in a circle around Sanaa, mumbling in a language she didn't understand. When he finished, he took her face in his hands and pulled her forward, claiming her lips in a searing kiss. Sanaa only had a second to enjoy the wave of pleasure that moved through her neglected body before the dragon pulled away.

His eyes blazed with fire when he looked at her. She wasn't sure if it was fury or passion. “Don’t move.“ He disappeared through the door, slamming the heavy wooden frame behind him.

Sanaa sank to her knees and rocked the baby to soothe her cries. Or maybe it was to soothe her own guilt. After all, she'd been the one stupid enough to reach out to her mother. If Sanaa had only waited a few months, a few days, she would have seen that her daughter was different. She would have realized that the infant carried the dragon's blood just as Niabe had. Ronin was fighting a horde of mega-sized hell spawn because she had gone soft-hearted.

That didn't seem fair at all.

She set her baby down and stepped out of the circle. The baby wailed as Sanaa bent over to press a kiss to her forehead. Every cell in her body wanted to pick the baby back up and cradle her small body. If she left, who would be there to protect her if the monsters broke in? Now wasn't the time for a soft heart. She had to fight if she wanted to ensure her daughter's survival.