Ronin rode into the skinwalker village on Bandit's back for the second time in as many days and with half as much enthusiasm. At least the first time he hadn't known the shit storm that was waiting inside those walls.

"Damn that woman and her nostalgic heart." Even as the words left his mouth, he knew there was more to Sanaa’s insistence they involve the Bloodbones.

The old farts sat in the same configuration they had the day before, two pairs playing chess, the leader reading at the great table. Well, as great as a plywood monstrosity with thin metal legs could be. Kane sat in the corner of the room, staring intently at the Elders. He nodded to Ronin as their eyes met.

Ronin glanced at Kane’s outstretched hand for a moment before he shook it. “This isn’t a coincidence, is it?”

Kane shrugged. “I mean, if that would make you feel better we can pretend it is.”

Perfect. Another skinwalker to watch me make an ass of myself to make my mate happy.

He grunted as he reminded himself—for the third time in twelve hours—that Sanaa was not his mate.

“Did Sanaa call you?”

“Like she would let me get involved. I figured if you were coming at all, you wouldn't waste time. They must have figured the same." The skinwalker jerked his head toward the Elders.

Each of them looked up and noted Ronin’s presence then went back to puffing their fragrant pipes and playing their games. As if they couldn’t hear the conversation happening ten feet away from them.

Ronin knew only two of them by name. Elena, the female warrior Elder begged the same favor of him every year. Each summer, she came to pay tribute, and ask the dragon to search the area for tribes that might pose a threat. The Chief, Ramon, came to Ronin twice a year with gifts of jerky and spices. Payment for another six months of Ronin's guardianship.

A growl of warning rumbled in Ronin's chest. “Do you people take everything as a chance to stand on ceremony?”

Kane opened his mouth to respond, but one of the Elders, the one without the glasses, with a scowl that made him look like a bulldog, answered instead. “We have our ways, Dragon. Keeping to them helps us feel connected.”

The Seer, a squat fat woman with hair dyed coppery red, looked up from her game. “That one won’t understand. He doesn’t have any traditions of his own.”

Ramon looked up from his book, over the rim of his glasses. Ronin knew him, too. Now the man barely spared him a thought. “Why are you here, Dragon?"

Only because my woman won't let it go. "Sanaa and the child are my responsibility. Their lives, their happiness, all of it."

“And you think you’re up to the challenge?” Ramon asked.

Ronin grit his teeth. Two days ago, the skinwalkers wouldn’t have dared speak to him that way. “Unfortunately, it seems her happiness depends on her continued membership in your tribe."

The Chief closed his book. “I asked you a question, Dragon. Why should I have faith that you can take care of her? Of both of them?”

A challenge. Ronin braced his hands against the plywood table and leaned forward into Ramon’s space. “It’s not a matter of faith, Old Man. They’re my family. I will protect them. I’m only here because it’s important to Sanaa.”

Ramon watched him for a moment, his lips tight. He snorted and flipped his book back open. “You have courage, Dragon, I’ll give you that. It’s your heart that concerns me.”

“Excuse me?”

Kane groaned behind Ronin. “That’s formal speak for ‘We don’t think you’re serious about courtship.’”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“You’re at war with yourself, Dragon,” the Seer said. “How can a man who isn’t at peace with himself be trusted to guide a family?

“I don’t remember asking to have my fortune told,” Ronin spat.

Elena snorted. “It doesn’t take a mystic to see you’re all kinds of mixed up. You talk about Sanaa as if she’s your woman, but you barely know her.”

“I know enough.” Sanaa was the mother of his child. She needed his help. What else did he need to know?

“Then why did she send you here? She isn’t one of us anymore, the child never was. Yet here you are, a mighty dragon, fighting to keep his bile in check while he prostrates to a bunch of skinwalkers. Oh, don’t bother to protest,” Ramon waved a hand as Ronin opened his mouth to do just that. “I’m not interested in how you feel about it.”

“Then what the hell is it you want from me?”

“I want you to prove you know a damn thing about my niece. Tell me why she sent you here.”

Ronin had a sudden urge to shatter the cheap plywood beneath his fingers. The Old Man was right, something didn’t smell right. Sanaa was relying on him for firepower in the fight. She could have secured his help just as easily by telling him the truth upfront. Instead she hid it until the last possible moment. When it seemed like she might lose both sides’ support if she didn’t come clean. Why was it so important that both he and the Elders back her cause?

“She doesn’t think she’ll survive this fight.”

Ramon’s grim expression confirmed Ronin’s suspicions. “You want me to trust her safety to you? Why should I when she doesn’t?”

“Sanaa doesn’t understand how far I’ll go for her. She’ll learn.”

“Prove it to me. Atone. Give Sanaa back her status before it’s too late.”

If Ronin didn't know better, he could swear the skinwalker was enjoying his humiliation. "Just tell me what you want me to do."

The Scholar finally looked up from the game of chess he was losing and climbed to his feet. "We were discussing it before Kane interrupted us. We hadn't come to an agreement."

"Our tribe has rules about who can couple," the female warrior said. "Only members who have come of age."

Ronin raised an eyebrow. "I can assure you, I'm no boy."

The male warrior snorted. "You may be grown by human laws, but we aren't human, are we?"

Ronin glared at the warrior, letting the dragon fire come to his eyes. He could level the entire town with only the powyr and the wyrd, but that would destroy Sanaa. "Just tell me what I have to do to get you off my back."

"Bloodbones take their place in the community when they receive their imprint. Adults are free to marry, hold council, and build homes of their own. Though most don't take the last part literally until they marry."

That explained why Sanaa lived in a trailer instead of the squat adobe structures that dotted the small town. He would build one for her himself if she insisted on maintaining a home in the village.

"Except I'm not a skinwalker. I was born with my animal.”

"Which is exactly why we can't agree on how to go forward," Ramon said. “I want Sanaa and her child settled, we all do. But we have the community to consider. If we excuse your transgression, what happens when one of our young men makes a similar mistake?"

Ronin bore his teeth at Ramon. “My daughter is not a mistake."

"Do you want to be right, or do you want to protect Sanaa and your baby?" Elena asked.

In a perfect would, Ronin would have had both, but the Elders were not going to give him that much. Sanaa needed the Elders’ support to feel secure. Ronin needed to get it.

"This coming of age ceremony...what does it involve?"

The Elders looked amongst themselves. The Warrior and the Seer didn't look convinced that they should share the information with Ronin, but the Chief looked to the Scholar and nodded.

"A youth approaches the Elders with one parent of good standing acting as their representative. If we believe they are ready, they begin their quest in the desert."

Ronin rolled his eyes. "You must be joking."

"You have objections?" Ramon asked.

"Several. To begin with, my parents are dead–"

"I can act as your representative," Kane, rising to his feet. "If the Elders agree."

All eyes turned to the Scholar, who shrugged and adjusted his glasses over his beady eyes. "A parent of Sanaa's would be more proper."

Ronin glared at the weasel of a man. "But seeing as they are unavailable?"

The Scholar stroked his gray-flecked beard. "I can't think of a reason it wouldn't be allowed, given the circumstances.”

Ramon clapped his hands together. "Then it's decided."

"Nothing's decided," Ronin said through gritted teeth. The Male Warrior and the Seer, at least, seemed to share his annoyance, though probably not for the same reasons. "I'm not leaving my woman and child undefended to go on a spirt walk."

"Spirit quest," Elena corrected. "And no one is suggesting that. Omar and I can take over guardianship of Sanaa and her daughter until your quest has been successfully completed."

The plan was foolish, unnecessarily sentimental, and a pointless delay when they could least afford one. Every instinct he had told him to turn his ass around, ride back to his compound in the mountain, and tell Sanaa in no uncertain terms that pacifying the Elders could wait until her safety was secured.

But hadn't he sworn twice in the last twenty-four hours to attend to her emotional needs as much as her physical? The breakfast discussion–which was absolutely a fight–hammered one fact about Sanaa into Ronin's brain. That woman could not face life without her community.

And he sure as hell wasn't about to face life without her.

"When do we do this?"

A smile tugged at the corner of Ramon's lips, and for a moment, Ronin wondered if he was secretly pleased the dragon was taking responsibility for their wayward Thunderbird.

"As soon as you bring Sanaa and the baby here."

* * *

At noon Ronin still wasn't convinced the sham of an imprint quest was necessary, but considering that he was being driven into the desert in Kane's pickup, it was probably too late to change his mind. Just as well. Backing out of the ceremony would only start another round of arguments with Sanaa.

By now, the dark walker would have realized the limits of his defenses. Half a dozen wards and trinkets were hidden around his property, but they had limits. The more general the task, the weaker the charm's powyr. A horde of minions could easily overwhelm them all. Leaving Sanaa alone at the house was a calculated risk.

Kane stopped the truck on an indistinguishable patch of dirt road and climbed out of the cab.

Ronin climbed down from the bed of the truck. "Where the hell are we?"

The skinwalker shrugged. "Don’t know, that's the point. The quest is complete when you find your way back home."

"When does it start?" The sooner he could be done with this and back in the village the sooner he could make sure his woman and child were all right.

Hmm. My woman.

The thought sprang to Ronin's mind so readily that he forgot it wasn't technically true yet. No matter how many times visions of her naked, back arched in pleasure as he ran his tongue over her caramel skin–

Damn it, not now!

Kane passed him a brown leather satchel. "Everything you need is in there. Pipe, dream flower, and a bottle of water."

"You're sending me into the desert at high noon with water and weed?" If he weren't a dragon and powerful wizard, Ronin would have sworn the Elders were trying to kill him.

Kane shrugged. "If it were easy, it wouldn't prove your worth."

"Again, I don't see how getting high in the desert is going to prove anything."

"It proves that you give a shit about my cousin and what she wants. That you aren't just going to disappear when this is all over."

Ronin glanced back in the direction of the village–where he assumed the village was anyway. Sanaa and his child waited for him there, surrounded by people who claimed to be friends. More than that, family. If Kane wasn't convinced Ronin planned to live up to his obligations, Sanaa wouldn't be either.

Maybe a few hours alone in the desert was exactly what he needed. If the hot sun couldn't fry the desire out of his brain, nothing would.

The skinwalker must have sensed his renewed conviction because he continued. "Bastian makes it sound like a bigger deal than it is. Just find someplace comfortable to sit, spark up, and wait."

"Wait for what?"

"If you were one of us you would be waiting for an image. The first animal image that pops into your head. But since you’re already a dragon...."

"I'm supposed to sit in the desert staring at swirling rocks until sundown."

"I knew you were a smart guy," Kane folded his arms across his chest and smirked. "I made this mix especially for you. It should give you some clarity. Worst case scenario just wait until you come down then shift and fly back."

"I figured that would be breaking the rules."

Kane glanced over his shoulder as he climbed back into the truck. "Why? It proves you have an imprint, doesn't it?"

Ronin smirked to himself. He had to admit, the skinwalker was beginning to grow on him. The spirit quest, on the other hand, was a pain in the ass the second Kane drove away. It didn't escape his notice that the ordeal was as much an endurance trial as a test of worth. But he was no sniveling skinwalker youth playing it tough.

Finding a comfortable spot to sit was simple enough, but choking down the dream flower was another matter. Ronin coughed up twice as much smoke as he inhaled. He hadn't smoked so much as a cigarette since his college days.

Back then he hadn't even known about his dragon blood. One night a sassy brunette with a curvy body to match walked into the bar where he worked. Evette, with her amber skin and a fiery temper. Bam! That first Heat had been pure lava running through his veins and straight down to his cock. They spent hours naked in bed, dropping important details whenever they came up for air.

She taught him what little she knew about the world of powyr. The genes were diluted in her blood, but there was the ubiquitous one drop in her veins. Not enough for her to shift, more than enough to send him into Heat.

He married her the month they met and they had three years together. The best of his life. Then a drunk driver on back country road fucked the whole thing up.

For twenty years, all he had was the memory of Evette to get him through the Heat cycles. With liberal doses of aspirin and dips in chilled lakes. Adad’s spells saved him when simple measures didn’t help. In all those years of conventions and signings and adoring readers, Ronin had never been tempted. Not until Sanaa begged his favor.

The wind kicked up, whistling as it blew past Ronin's ears. He could swear he heard it whisper, "Then why did you send her away?"

Evette.

Someone sat down next to him, but he wouldn't turn his head to look. He didn't need to see Evette to know she was there, but turning to empty space might well drive him insane. “If you were her, you would already know the answer to that."

She laughed. Even her laugh was the same. "Twenty years and you're still as much of a dumbass as you've always been.”

He snorted. "And you've still got a smart-ass mouth."

"You used to say it was one of my best features." Her tone rose the way it always did when she pretended to be offended.

"It was." He brought the pipe to his lips again, inhaling the velvety, acrid smoke. "I miss you like hell, Evette."

She didn't answer for a while. "I know, but that's not why you sent her away."

"How would you know? You're not even here."

Evette reached out, brushing her fingers along the back of his hand. There was a time such a simple touch would have ignited the fire of his Heat, but he felt no arousal. Only the same gnawing sadness he felt every day since Evette died.

Ronin turned to look at her. He half expected her to have the shimmering appearance of a spirit, but she was as solid as the ground they sat on. She looked exactly the way she had on the day they went to the courthouse, down to the cream sun dress she pulled out of the closet at his insistence. Every bride deserved to wear white on her wedding day, no matter how hastily arranged.

Evette was right, of course, but then she always was. The memory of her didn’t make him push Sanaa away. It was guilt. Pure raw guilt at the notion that he let himself be weak for another woman. That was Evette's right. He'd said as much during their vows.

"I think you're forgetting the "till death do us part" bit, baby. I've been dead a long time."

The world over Evette's shoulder swirled, merging into a fabric of colors too intense for Ronin to separate. What the hell had Kane put in that dream flower mix?

He fought to focus, blinking his eyes to keep the blurriness at bay. "Why are you telling me that? I already know it."

“But you're sitting out here in the desert getting high. You've been telling yourself that it's to help that girl and her baby, but it sounds like a mighty convenient way to run away."

Ronin clamped his eyes shut as his body weaved. He must have been sitting by that bush for hours. He hadn't taken so much as a sip of the water Kane left for him. Hadn't eaten since breakfast with Sanaa.

Sanaa.

She was back at the community center with the Elders. She and the baby were safe.

"Do you really think a bunch of old men and dried up crones can protect a dragon spawn? From a dark walker?"

No. He hadn't believed it for a second. But he'd let his need for Sanaa cloud his judgment. Ronin stumbled to his feet, a decision he regretted immediately when the Earth gave way and he tumbled to the dirt.

The laughter that fell from Evette's lips wasn't right. It was cruel and mocking. Evette had a sharp tongue, but there wasn’t a mean bone in her body.

Ronin groaned and rolled over onto his back. He forced his eyelids open, but the woman wouldn't come into focus. "Who are you?"

"Just wanted a look at my would-be son-in-law."

His heart raced as he struggled to his knees. It wouldn't speed his metabolism up enough to process the dream flower out of his system. Damn it, why hadn't he left the stuff untouched. It wasn't as if Kane or the Elders would have known any different.

"You were never Evette."

Niabe shook her head, letting her long black locks swing wildly around her. "Sorry to disappoint, darling. It did sound like you and that woman had unfinished business. And believe me, I know all about unfinished business."

Ronin struggled to his feet. He needed to shift and end this once and for all, but changing into his dragon form when he was this disoriented was too dangerous. Even if she didn't capitalize on the few seconds of vulnerability, he didn't know where he was...or how many residences might be nearby.

"We have some of our own. I've been meaning to rip the flesh from your skull.”

"Tsk tsk. Too bad you let that idiot Ramon talk you into a fool's errand so he could save face. After your performance last night, I thought you were smarter than that. Almost worthy of my daughter."

Ronin sprang forward, reaching for the bitch's throat but connecting with empty air.

"Turns out you are as big a fool as the rest of them. Did you really think I would get within your reach, dragon?"

The breeze kicked up again, this time Ronin was sure he heard a whistle traveling on the air current. He definitely heard the blood-curdling shriek that sounded in response. Dozens of them. Hundreds. Pounding against the ground and flapping in the air. All headed in his direction.

And over it all, Ronin could hear Niabe laughing. Why shouldn't she? He was supposed to be Sanaa's strongest protector, her champion, and he was going to die alone in the desert, high on herbs mixed with heaven-knew-what else.

He fell forward and braced his hands against the ground, letting his fingers dig into the dirt. If the bitch was going to send her pitiful army to take him out, he sure as hell wasn't going to make it easy

A mighty roar erupted from Ronin's lips, growing in intensity and volume as the transformation began. Fabric and skin gave way as his bones cracked and lengthened. His shoulder blades tore through his skin, sending waves of pain through him as his wings started to take shape.

The hell spawn didn't wait. They swarmed him, clawing and biting at every inch of him they could reach until his scales hardened enough to protect him. Still, they came, biting at his eyes and the sensitive skin of his lips.

Ronin roared, shooting a jet of fire from his throat. But his dragon heart wasn't burning through the dream flower fast enough. The black demons blurred in and out of his sight.

He flapped his wings, rising into the air, putting distance between him and the smallest hell spawn. The bat demons followed him. They flew around him in circles, pecking at him as they dodged his flames.

A piercing shriek sounded in the distance. The sound waves vibrated in his ears as they slammed against his body. Lightning crashed around them, though there were no storm clouds in the sky to cause them. The call of a Thunderbird.

Sanaa.

She flew headlong into the fray, slamming her feathered body into four bat demons and turning to release another sonic wave on the tiny hell spawn on the ground. For one moment in the chaos, the Thunderbird came into view. The mauve hues of the New Mexico sunset glittered off her golden feathers, raining beams of light onto the limp, black bodies. She zoomed through the air, flapping her wings to gather speed as she dodged the winged demons. Their magic was clumsy, their bodies held together by the Dark Walker's blood and rage.

Their leathery appendages and dripping beaks were no match for Sanaa's strong wings and razor-sharp talons.

She was glorious. Magnificent.

His mate, defending their family.