Tane practically dragged Kinyi back to the Ball & Joint.

Her ship was completely wrecked. The raiders had barely left a husk behind. It would be left out in the marsh to rust or be picked apart even more or used as a shanty, but it most certainly wouldn’t be flying Kinyi home anytime soon.

It was a fact she couldn’t quite come to terms with.

“I could track their scents. After I kill them, I could take—”

“You’re not going to kill children,” he said for the millionth time, though he kept a firm grip on her elbow as he towed her along the darkened street, the vendors’ lights playing across the puddles.

“They’re little bastards. They deserve a good lashing.”

“They’re homeless and hungry.”

She growled, but he steered her through the front door of the Ball & Joint, the bell tinkling over their heads as they entered. The bar was already full of patrons nursing their drinks and talking over the music. On the stages, a few girls danced half-heartedly, saving their energy for the late-night crowd that was typically far more drunk and inclined to tip well.

Tane stopped beside an occupied barstool and gave the tenant a long look.

“Sorry, Tane,” the man muttered, jumping to his feet.

Tane pushed Kinyi onto the seat.

“What are you doing? I need to—”

“You need to sit right there and have a drink. You can’t do shit tonight.” He walked around the bar and ducked under the partition. He nodded at Hollywood, who’d apparently drawn the short straw tonight and had to work the bar. “Two whiskeys,” Tane told him.

“I don’t want a drink.” Kinyi’s eyes were locked on the television above the bar. Tane didn’t need to look to know it was more news coverage of the space station. He changed the channel. “Hey! I was watching that!”

“Watching it won’t change what’s happening.”

Hollywood slid the two whiskeys down the bar. They stopped neatly in front of Tane without an errant splash. He passed one to Kinyi and lifted his at her before taking a sip.

Glowering, Kinyi picked up her glass. After considering the amber liquid for a beat, she upended the glass and swallowed the contents in one easy swig. The men around her cheered and slapped the bar. She slammed the glass down and blinked at Tane, her eyes not even watering.

The ice queen was back.

“Another,” he told Hollywood.

He lost count of how many shots Kinyi put back, but by the time he collected her from her stool and half carried her downstairs to the fights, she was warm liquid against his side, her head on his shoulder, her arm twined around his waist.

“I’m flying,” she slurred, giggling. “Am I flying?”

“You’re walking and those are steps so pick up your feet.” The basement door slammed shut behind them, casting them in the semi-darkness of the stairwell.

Downstairs, the fights were just ramping up, with the lightweights entertaining the early crowd before they got to the real fights on the card.

“I think I could fly if I really tried. You know, it’s not fair that only males get wings. That’s really fucked up. It pisses me off.”

“Everything pisses you off.” He gave up trying to guide her down the stairs and lifted her with one arm around her waist.

“I would look good with wings.”

There was a sadness in her voice that he didn’t like, and for the first time, he considered what it was like for the Draqon females to not be able to shift and fly. He hadn’t taken to the sky for so long he couldn’t remember what it felt like to have air whisking over his hard scales, to feel his wings pumping against the wind currents, to feel his blood singing with fire.

He shuddered.

“You look good in everything,” he said to distract himself.

“Holy shit.” She craned her neck back to look up at him, her grin sloppy. “Was that an actual compliment?”

“No.” He jerked open the basement door and stepped into the chaos surrounding the first few fights on the card tonight.

He quickly scanned the room, but even the cursory glance told him everything he needed to know about the crowd. He’d gotten good at reading the men and women who betted on the fights each night. How much they drank, how loud they were, how rowdy they were. Were the waitresses in a hurry, avoiding certain people, or laid back and enjoying the easy flow of tips? Were his men working extra hard to keep extracurricular fights outside the ring under control?

He took it all in with one glance while keeping Kinyi on her feet. Even half incapacitated and lilting in his arms, she drew the eyes of plenty of men. He glared at them all. The predatory instinct to snap their necks coiled tightly in his throat. His arm tightened around her waist.

“You’re going to squeeze me in two. You should smile more often. I bet you have a nice smile.”

He glowered at her. “You’re one to talk, Ice Queen. Have you ever smiled in your life?”

“I smile all the time!”

“Not that cocky, mocking grin. A real smile.”

Her nose wrinkled in thought. “I would smile more real smiles if everyone would stop acting too stupid to deserve the mocking ones.”

He laughed before he realized what he was doing. “Good point.”

He threaded his way around the cage and straight to the back offices. A new cyborg employee whose name Tane couldn’t remember opened the door for them, his wide eyes on Kinyi. Tane gritted his teeth and walked her through the doorway. They went straight to his office, and he poured her into the seat across from his desk.

Instantly, she kicked her feet up and reclined, letting her head loll back and exposing a delicious amount of neck and chest.

She was such a sight that Tane forgot to knock her boots off his desk before he took his own seat. Keeping one eye on her, he fired up his vidscreen and went straight to the news sites—the real ones that reported facts and not just propaganda from the American Corporation.

The reports offered more insight into what had happened. Instead of a mass alien attack, the sites reported just one, a fire-breathing dragon from an unknown planet. There were even a few blurry pictures. Tane instantly recognized a Draqon’s form. A large male with purple scales and a mate on his back.

“Kinyi.”

She let out a soft snore.

He slapped his desk. “Kinyi!”

Shooting up in the chair, she glanced around. “What?”

“Didn’t you say the Draqon that was on the station was unmated?”

“Did I? I said he struggled with the madness, not that he wasn’t mated.”

Tane sighed. He swiveled the vidscreen around to face her so she could see the picture of the Draqon flying with his caramel-haired female. “He looks mated to me and perfectly in control of his madness.”

Kinyi sat forward, frowning. “Well, I’ll be damned. Looks like Maxsym was busy.”

Her eyes darkened as she stared at the picture a beat longer. Something Tane couldn’t identify passed across her face. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought it was sadness. “What is it?” he asked her.

She clenched her jaw and sat back, averting her eyes from the screen. “Does everyone have a mate now? What the hell is going on?”

“Jealous?”

Her gaze jerked back to him. “No! Of course not. It was just a comment. I don’t want a mate. Never have.”

“Sure.”

“I said,” she growled, almost spitting, “I don’t want a mate.”

Her anger was instant. It always hovered in her peripheral, waiting for the exact moment she needed it. He realized then that it was her shield. And he would bet it had kept most people far, far away, which was likely its exact purpose. But it had to be lonely to always be scaring people away. He would be willing to bet that the instinct to reach for her anger was so ingrained she probably didn’t even realize she did it anymore. She would have no idea why people ran from her, why no one got too close. They were terrified of her rage, and she had no clue.

“Okay,” he said calmly. He swiveled the vidscreen back toward him, closed down the news sites, and opened up the camera feeds of the fights.

He pretended to stare at his screen while he watched Kinyi simmer. Her fingers twitched at an erratic beat, her foot jigging against the floor. A muscle twitched in her jaw. After a moment of silence, she jerked unsteadily to her feet.

He thought she might leave, but she prowled around the edge of the desk. He looked up as she closed in on him. He knew that look in her eyes. He held up his hand. “Kinyi, you’re drunk.”

“So what?” she slurred, still advancing on him.

“So, you’re not thinking clearly. You’re pissed about your ship. We’ll get it figured out.”

With one pull, she spun his chair toward her. She crawled into his lap and straddled his hips, her arms threading around his neck. Her breath was as sweet as the whiskey she’d drowned her liver in as she said, “You’re incredibly sexy for an asshole, do you know that?”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “Your bedroom talk could use some work, but thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She lowered her mouth to his, and she should have been too drunk to kiss so well. She worked magic inside his mouth with her tongue. He leaned back, his hands on her waist, his fingers a breath away from the swell of her ass. She rocked against him, stroking herself over his lap. His already hardening cock jumped at the heat between her legs, and she moaned her approval of his readiness. She reached between them and ran her hand down the outside of his pants, rubbing his length.

He’d lost complete track of time since she’d started kissing him, but he knew he’d allowed it to go on far longer than he should have. He put his hands on her hips and pushed her back, turning his face away from her kiss.

“What?”

There was her anger again, always ready.

“You’re drunk.”

“So?” she snapped.

“So, I like my women coherent when I fuck them. Not sloppy.”

Her eyes sparked with fire. “I am not sloppy.”

“But you are very drunk.”

“I don’t see the problem.”

“Because you’re drunk.” He picked her up by her hips and planted her on her feet.

For a moment, she stood there, looking lost and confused. Then realization dawned on her face, and she glared at him. “Do you have a mate too, then? Some human female you prefer?”

He felt sorry for the bastard who had rejected her for a human woman. He doubted Kinyi had let the male off easy for the slight. “No. You wouldn’t have been on my lap if I had a female.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, swaying slightly. She wanted to yell and shout, but she couldn’t find anything to argue over. Her face was pale, the skin beneath her eyes a bruised purple. The scales on her face were mostly healed. By tomorrow, they would be back, and she’d have to rip them off again. The thought made him sick. He wanted to see them first, to know her colors.

“You should go to sleep,” he said. “There’s a cot in Chance’s office you can use.”

“I don’t want to sleep. I need to get off this planet.”

Standing up, he took her arm because she looked ready to fall over. He doubted she knew how much she was leaning against him, how much of her weight he had to support. She was practically dead on her feet. “Go rest. I’ll look into getting your ship back.”

She blinked and struggled to open her eyes again. “You … I can’t …” She paused, thinking hard. “I need a ship.”

“I know.” He bent down and swept her knees out from under her, catching her cleanly with his other arm. In one breath, she was against his chest. Her head fit perfectly in the nook between his shoulder and chest. “But first you’re going to sleep.”

She stared up at him, her lips slightly parted. “Okay.”