She scouted two of the local inns—not Stella’s—scanning hitching posts and then entering to do a quick eyeball of the patrons to look for a likely seller. She hit pay dirt with the second inn, sizing up the restless energy of a dusty man with a week’s worth of grime who wolfed down a sandwich and a tankard of beer while standing, as if he was stopping through as quickly as possible.

Kai approached, voice low. “Evening, friend.”

He glanced at her. “Don’t need a whore.”

She smiled, not offended. “Neither do I. You look like you’re passing through town. Have you seen any burden beasts on the road that might be for sale?”

His eyes narrowed, what she could see under busy brows. “How much you payin’?”

The negotiation was short and brutal once she’d assured herself he did own the animal outside, and Kai soon found herself the mistress of a new donkey. Guiding it back to Gun & ‘Mo, she looped its tether on a post and stepped inside.

And stopped short, instantly wary.

A tall man turned around, the cleanliness of his navy-blue waist coat and slicked-back hair a certain sign he was no miner or traveling merchant.

“Mistress Kailigh, good day,” Gaston said, a friendly smile lighting his face.

Her eyes shifted to the blank faced clerk. “Evening, Gaston.”

“Stocking up, hmm?”

“Something like that.”

She walked past him, deliberately rude, and nodded at the clerk. “You got what I ordered.”

He jerked his head at several small boxes stacked in front of him. She flipped each open, doing an experienced eyeball count, picking up a bullet to examine the quality of the workmanship. Sometimes these places tried to pass homemade stuff off on a woman thinking she knew no better. Though Kai liked to think her reputation preceded her after all this time.

“That’s a lot of ammo, Kai,” Gaston said, moving closer.

She wanted to ignore him, but he wasn’t the type who liked to take a hint. She’d always wondered why Maddugh had hired such a snake oil smelling fella as one of the foremen of his mines.

“None of your business,” she said, blunt, then turned to the clerk. “Will you take coal?”

The clerk’s eyes widened and he glanced at Gaston, paling. “Kailigh!”

She rolled her eyes. “My coal is above board. I’ve permission from Maddugh himself.” Not really, but she was fairly certain he’d give it after she explained the situation. He must be aware there was a small black market trade for unlicensed coal in town—no one really enforced the consequences unless one was just flagrant about it.

Gaston coughed. “Maddugh?”

She glanced at him. “Yeah, so don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

“Is this part of the commotion I’m told went on the other day, Kailigh?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I know one thing—anyone who comes near my house will trip my booby traps.” She smiled, bland. “You spread that gossip around, why don’t you?”

His eyes narrowed, then he smiled. “You tell Lord Maddugh I said hello, why don’t you?”

“Sure,” she said, and turned to go. “Coal’s on Horse, I’ll bring it in.”

By the time she’d lugged three five-pound bags of the black rock and loaded the leather side saddles with five boxes of ammo, the sun was beginning to slid down behind the mountains. She pushed the burden beast to make good time home and fed and watered both right away.

The girls were glad to see her and they all tackled the remainder of their individual tasks, including packing up, when Kailigh heard a loud knock on the door. The sun was high in the sky and she didn’t have time for interruptions. Ire roused, thinking the dragon must have gotten impatient and sent someone to fetch them—she stalked to the front door and yanked it open.

Fast reflexes and instinct born from years of honing had Kailigh whirling to the side just as a dart whizzed past. It grazed her upper arm.

“That was just to say hello,” a voice called out.

She touched the thin line of blood on her arm, cursing that she’d taken her jacket off. The leather would have protected her.

“You come here to die, Adjrius?” she shouted.

He laughed, the sound ghostly. “No, indeed. Death isn’t profitable. I’d like an audience with your daughter, if I may. A permanent one, and then I and the twelve men surrounding your home with heavy ammunition and launchers will leave peacefully. Come—one little daughter is a small price to pay.”

Kailigh cursed, slammed the door shut, throwing the bolts home, and darted to her mudroom.

“Red alert!” she shouted, knowing the twins would hear her. The dart had been treated with tranquilizer—the fast-acting kind good enough to take down a rabid horse. She could already feel a creeping numbness spread.

The sound of feet at the back door whispering open told Kai the girls were taking positions, and silently. She’d never been one for all that talking and posturing.

Gritting her teeth against the spreading poison, she ran back into the living room and threw open the door, rolling to the ground. A stone retainer wall the height of a donkey guarded their cottage. Unless her enemies had climbed the trees beyond the clearing, there was no vantage point from where they could attack her or the girls from above.

Sere and Persia would be in their positions. Kailigh kicked out a pre-loosened stone from the wall and aimed her rifle.

Ruthus Adjrius stepped from the forest, one hand resting inside his scarlet brocade vest, streams of light winking off the gold-plated metal of his mechanical arm harness. That had been a nasty surprise. The upgrade from a simple leather sling meant he now had financial backing. Someone rich in a Dome with a taste for Outland female flesh, probably the younger the better. It would explain why after all these years he’d finally tried to nab Cinvarra. Anger boiled to the surface as Kailigh considered that her daughter had been ‘ordered.’ That he’d procured photos of Cin, a description of her temperament then presented them to some dissolute dandy and received the required bounty to net the fish.

“Come out, mistress,” he shouted. “Be reasonable about this.”

Probably didn’t want to risk damaging Cinvarra any more than he already had. Kai’s lip curled and she said nothing. Or he just wanted her to give away her position.

A shot ripped into the tree next to him, shards of bark shattering. He stumbled back, cursing, and Kai let out a small curse of her own. Persia—Serephone wouldn’t have missed.

“Kill the crone,” she heard him snarl. “Try to keep the fillies. If they can be broken, a trio will be worth even more than a single bud.”

* * *

Son of a bordello bitch.

The first whiz of a steam powered short range lobby gun sang in the air. Dirt sprayed, shredding her carefully tended perennials, creating a foot-deep crater in the bed. Kailigh returned fire, aiming in the direction of the enemy fire. She’d rather deal with a gunshot or knife wounds any day. Steam could literally flay the flesh down to the bone, and no one could survive those kinds of burns these days. The agony while a victim died was unbearable.

She heard the cry and thud as one of her bullets met flesh, and smiled, scrambling to another position. Suddenly a swarm of black bees headed from around the side of the cabin and into the forest, a whirring to their song that raised hairs on the back of Kai’s neck. Those were no ordinary bees—they were Sere’s mechanized insects, powered with a bit of her innate magic, with razor sharp wings and tiny feet that in numbers could scratch a man’s eyes out. Her daughter had deployed them only in demonstration, and Kai had sworn her to secrecy. If anyone with any power ever found out what Serephone could do… flesh traffickers would be the last of their worries.

Kailigh cursed as men emerged from the forest, swatting at their clothing. Others advanced behind them, weapons sighted, and fired. She shot until her ammunition was gone and then rose and ran, drawing her long knife, trusting the girls to cover her.

She engaged the first man, counting on his surprise to give her a small initial advantage. Men were always shocked how strong she was, especially when all they saw was a skirt with a decorative rifle. All women carried rifles these days—most knew how to use 'em too. But most females were still at a physical disadvantage in a hand to hand fight with a man. Kailigh wasn’t.

Dropping the first, the second stepped up. Black hair in the corner of her vision—the twins joining the fight. Kailigh stumbled, fell hard on one knee. Going with the motion of her body, she used it to her advantage and drew a knife, twisting at the last second and plunging it into the gut of an assailant.

He screamed, clutching her hand as she twisted the knife. His boot aimed for her but she already was on her feet, shaking off the tranquilizer. She clutched him around the neck, using his sinking body as a shield as she walked backwards.

“Retreat!” she yelled, and the twins backed up with her, expressions calm. When they reached the front door, Persia kicked it open and Kai dropped her body shield, dead bolted the door and whirled, running for Cinvarra’s room. Praying no one had snuck in the rear while she and the girls were occupied.

Gone.

Her heart stopped, and then Serephone entered as Kai heard the creak of the trap door to the basement safe room. The room she’d dug out only after the house was built, so no one would know it was there.

“She’s downstairs,” Sere said.

Kai exhaled, nodded. “Ammo?”

“Heading there now.”

Kailigh and Serephone reloaded, waited on Persia, and then the three left through the back. If they waited too long, the traffickers would try to storm the house, and there was no way they’d win a gun fight in close quarters, outnumbered. Their best chance was to carefully pick off the shooters one by one with patience and superior skill, counting on the fact that they didn’t want to kill them if it could be avoided.

The back door was disguised by hanging vines as if it were just a wall like the rest of the house. But she’d had enough visitors over the years that someone could have told Rufus about the hidden door.

She slipped out first, crouched lower than the wall, and took up position again. Kailigh cocked the rifle, waited until she had a clear shot, and fired at one of the re-emerging men. One down. Fired again. Another down. Shots on either side of her as the girls followed suit.

The forest returned fire. “We won’t make it,” Kai said, grim. “I want you girls to take Cinvarra and escape through the forest. Sere—you have any of those hand bombs?”

“You’ll set the forest on fire,” Persia said, curt. “We’re not leaving you.”

“Who’s more important? Your baby sister or me?” It was a low blow, according to the paleness of Persia’s face. Serephone didn’t blink, lips drawn and grim.

The eldest twin glanced at her mother once, eyes fierce, and nodded, grabbing Persia by the arm. “Let’s go.”

“What! I’m not leaving Ma.”

“You want Cin to be a sex slave? Let’s go. Ma knows what she’s doing.”

Kailigh didn’t have time to even blink back tears, or worry about whether the girls would be safe. Only to be grateful for Serephone’s brutal practicality. “Get to the constable. Go.”

And then the forest was on fire.

A roar echoed through the trees, and a man’s scream. The wild swish of wings overhead as a shadow blocked out the sun and swooped low, rose high into the air, and turned to dive again. Loud shouting and rapid fire—not in their direction—and the boom as a fire canon went off. The dragon swerved, roaring in what sounded suspiciously like laughter.

Kailigh stared, then burst into action as the iridescent black dragon crashed to the ground, dirt spraying as he deliberately tore claws into the earth, flinging boulder sized clumps of earth at his targets. His barbed tail cut through the air with a high-pitched whine, his maw bloody, fangs bared. He reared back, chest expanding.

“No FIRE!” Kailigh screamed at Maddugh—who else would it be? And what the hell was he thinking?

The dragon glanced at her then released his breath in a cloud of brimstone air. The traffickers yelled at each other, momentarily discombobulated. Maddugh dropped onto his fours and charged, a tank the size of her small cottage, wings flaring to block out the sun. He fought with tail and claws, long neck swiping to snatch at foes with the length of her arm. Her daughters scrambled out of the way, retreating to her position, flintlock at the ready.

“Stay here to guard the door, I’ll cover him,” she said, and ran through the gate, took a knee, and protected his flanks. Maddugh made short work of the men who hadn’t managed to flee. Kailigh winced, hoping he’d send people to help clean up the mess, but then realizing with resigned fairness that it was her problem, so she would clean it up.

When the fight was over, the dragon stood on its hind legs again. The air around him shimmered, morphing into the Dwyrkin Lord.

Kailigh stared.

“Nice trick,” Serephone said, then, unexpectedly, tilted her head to eye the man up and down. Kai really couldn’t blame her.

“Where are his clothes?” Persia wondered.

He was a magnificent specimen, golden brown skin unblemished, the perfect proportion of lean toned muscle without looking over bulged or unfit. And evidently, he had no concern over his nudity because he strode forward, ignoring Serephone’s fixed stare and Persia’s slow, appreciative grin.

Maddugh’s amber eyes slashed into Kailigh. “No fire?” He snorted. “You’re coming with me. Now.”

Kailigh stood, locking her knees. “I don’t appreciate your tone of voice.”

“No?” He strolled closer, stepping close enough she wanted to reach for her knife, and stuck his face in hers. “I don’t care if you care for my tone of voice or not. We have a bargain, and you can’t fulfill it if you are dead, mistress.” He lifted a finger, touched her cheek. “Careful, Kailigh. If you renege on a bargain with a dragon—you become part of his hoarde.”

The low, nearly intimate tone told Kai one thing—he wanted her to become part of his hoarde. If she reneged on the bargain, it would be the pretext he needed to get what he wanted. Kailigh understood what he wanted on the surface—but she didn’t understand why he looked at her as if what he wanted, and she herself, were intertwined.

She tried to take a step back and her body betrayed her, adrenaline dropping to allow the effect of the poison to make itself known. He caught her as her knees crumpled, swinging her up into his arms.

“Are you injured?” he asked, voice sharp, then knelt, laying her on the earth to run hands over her body.

She tried not to think that a handsome, naked male was leaning over her, his hands all over her. “Tranquilizer,” she said, words slightly mushy. “It’ll burn off in an hour.”

His expression darkened and he lifted his wrist to his mouth. Fangs flashed, tearing into his skin and he pressed his bleeding wrist to her lips.

“A few mouthfuls,” he said when she gagged and tried to turn her head. His free hand gripped her jaw. “Either you take my blood, or I’ll carry you back to my home and tie you to my bed until you’re well.”

He could. She was no match for a dragon. Her eyes narrowed but she opened her mouth, lapping at the salty sweet liquid with a surprising lack of recoil, unable to look away from his eyes. It trickled through her, better than the finest wines or purest blends of coffee, banishing fatigue and numbness—and awakening a feeling in her body long buried.

His nostrils flared. “That’s enough. Greedy woman.” Maddugh rose, drawing her to her feet with him and for a moment his hands wrapped around her waist. He stared at her. “Dangerous woman.”

“More dangerous than a dragon?” She took a step back. “I don’t think so.”

He grabbed her hands, halting her. “A beautiful woman is always more dangerous. You interest me. That would be enough for me to stake a claim even if your… unique characteristics didn’t already sway me.”

“Are we really discussing this now, Maddugh? It doesn’t seem like the best time.”

“No? Then when?”

How about never. He made her uneasy, the focused way he stared at her, seemingly oblivious to everything else. The focus of a hunter.

“I-“ she stopped, gathering her dignity. Tugged at her hands, which he refused to relinquish. “I’m too old for flirting.”

He laughed at her. “My youngest son is older than you. You’re shy. Very well—now really isn’t the time. But there will be a time, mistress.”