by S. A. Ravel
He caressed her, chuckling again as her sounds of protest dissolved into moans of pleasure. The answer didn't matter, in the end. Titles and definitions could wait until they survived. If they survived.
The night before the last battle wasn't the night for those conversations. It was better to lay under the stars, explore one another's bodies, gasp as each movement spurned ever greater heights of pleasure, to cling to him as the last shocks of ecstasy faded. It was a night for her to remember that it wasn't enough to win. For her daughter, for her mate, she had to survive.
12
For the third time that week, Ronin watched Kane drive away with Shayla under his protection. The burning in his gut was all too familiar. Adad would say a dragon didn't send its progeny into the world to be guarded by others. Every instinct he had told him it was against the natural order.
"Are you sure this will work?" Sanaa asked, nodding her head toward the perfect replica of Shayla in her arms.
Ronin forged the illusion in powyr and blood. Creating the decoy, connecting it to Shayla, and forging a link between them that couldn’t be traced was the most complex piece of magic Ronin had ever performed. It wouldn't fool Channing or Niabe for long. Only the darkest of sorcery could give life where there was none. Those secrets lay in tomes and scrolls too dark for Ronin’s tastes.
"We only need it to draw them out,” he said. “If they're here fighting us, they can't be tracking Kane or hitting the village again."
“Basically, we’re the ones who are bait.” A wicked grin came to Sanaa’s lips. Ronin couldn’t help but watch her.
“I’ve never seen you smile like that,” he said. How many years would it take him to learn every variation? Was a smile of triumph different from one of contentment?
Sanaa rewarded his admission with a brush of her lips against his. Affection came more easily for her every day. Maybe, one day, she would fall as hard for him as he was falling for her. There was so much about his mate he still didn’t know. So much he would never know unless he played the next few hours better than any before.
They rode out of the mountains in silence, each of them straining to hear any sign of the Niabe or her demons. Ronin pushed on until the house and range faded into the distance. He chose this battlefield with care. Deep in the desert, far beyond where anyone sane would build a home. Far enough from civilization that he and Sanaa could unleash their powerful animal forms without fear of collateral damage.
"Do you see anything familiar anymore?" he asked.
Sanaa's eyes moved over the horizon. She shook her head. "I think we're far enough."
She stood guard, while Ronin lashed Bandit to a tree and drew a protective charm around him. He stroked the horse's muzzle and whispered to him. "I wish I could send you home, but we're too far for you to make it. Don't worry about anything you see. Nothing is getting through this circle."
He rose to find Sanaa staring at him, her eyes wide. "What? You've never seen a man talk to his horse before?"
An easy smile came to his lips. Even with the hounds of hell nipping at their heels, her very presence calmed him. The two of them, fighting in sync at last, would be enough to beat even a Blood Sorcerer. Ronin was sure of it.
Right up until the moment Sanaa's limp body crashed to the dirt.
The infant's cries reverberated off the cave walls. The sound waves deformed on the return trip, turning into a shrill wail that only increased her panic. The salty taste of fear hung in the air and lingered on her tongue. She'd never gotten used to this part, the sudden surge of scents and flavors that assaulted her senses on the hunt. It had never been like that before when she had only an eagle form to sharpen her abilities.
Deckard Channing changed that and so many other things over the years. Each infusion of the precious vital liquid brought a new advantage, a new power.
Shayla didn't need the devil's brew of blood that flowed in her grandmother's veins. Her father conveyed all the powyr she would ever need. In another universe, she would have grown up to do great things. Amazing feats which brought pride to skinwalkers and dragons alike. But that future was not to be.
The guardian shouted and reached for his weapon. It wasn't until he fell to the ground, eyes frozen in horror the she realized which Bloodbone served as Shayla’s protector. That explained the use of a weapon instead of his imprint. Sweet Kane’s bird of prey was no match for her.
Shayla’s screams grew more frantic. Clever child. She knew that death was near.
“Ssh. It’s alright sweetheart,” she cooed, tucking the girl into her arms. “Grandma’s here.”
Ronin ran to Sanaa, chest tight as he scooped her limp body in his arms. She hadn't complained of pain. There was no flush in her cheeks, no heat in her skin to suggest a fever. Even so, Ronin searched frantically for some injury or illness that could explain her collapse.
Sanaa couldn’t die. She could not die. Not in his arms, in the middle of the desert. Not on a battlefield.
He found nothing, which only increased his panic. Could the cause be psychological rather than physical? No, Sanaa had faced the wrath of a surly dragon to keep her daughter safe. She wouldn't faint like a shrinking violet with the fight so near. It was more like someone had just turned off the juice.
A cold realization settled over Ronin. He closed his eyes, shifting his focus away from Sanaa, forcing himself to ignore the ball of fear embedded in his gut. As the fear faded, a blazing alarm sounded in Ronin's mind. The protection charm.
His stomach sank deeper as Sanaa's eyes fluttered open. She sat up as quickly as she had hit the ground. There was no hint of fatigue or drowsiness in her eyes, just confusion at finding herself in a position she didn't recall getting into.
"How much of today do you remember?" he asked.
Her eyes moved over her thighs as if something about the position in which she landed would make things clearer to her. "I was...my smile. You like it when I smile."
Ronin pulled her close to his chest. She would mistake the gesture for overprotectiveness, and under different circumstances, she would have been right. "Something is wrong. We need to follow Kane."
It wasn't hard to find their way back to the house. All it took was for Ronin to shift into his dragon form and find their scent on the wind. They traced the path from there, Sanaa on Bandit's back, Ronin in the sky guiding her. The rain started just after they arrived, a gentle sprinkling of water that would have been just enough to tamper with his sense of smell. A small part of him hoped the timing was a sign their luck was changing...but he knew better.
Sanaa waited while Ronin changed. The rest of the journey he would have to make as a man, and the last thing they needed was a human hiker lost in the wilderness calling the cops.
The path of the protection charm was harder to follow. Every feat of powyr, from the most complex illusion to the most basic charm, left a trace. Ronin found the scraps of his powyr easily, following the path Shayla and Kane had taken.
It wasn't an impossible task, but it took every scrap of energy Ronin had. Fatigue set in after they found Kane’s truck, abandoned by the side of the highway. By the time they reached the mouth of the cave, a fine layer of sweat clung to his skin and he struggled to catch his breath. He leaned against the outer wall, rubbing the moisture away with the back of his hand.
Sanaa moved to his side, concern etched on her features. "Are you all right?"
Ronin nodded and struggled to his feet. "Like I said, it's a lot easier when I have something physical to track. I'll be fine in a couple of minutes." The trouble was, he didn't have a couple of minutes to spare, and they both knew it.
Sanaa rubbed his back absently as she strained to see through the veil of darkness. "Maybe you should rest here a minute."
"You're not going in there alone."
"Ronin, you're no good to me in a fight if you can't stand, and we can run faster if you're already out here."
"I said you're not going alone."
She would mista
ke the statement for overprotectiveness, and under different circumstances, she would have been right. But Ronin knew what waited for them at the end of that cave and he couldn't let her make the gruesome discovery alone.
They took the path deeper into the cave. Sanaa gasped and froze as the interior came into view. She turned around and buried her face in Ronin's chest. When that didn't provide enough distance from the trauma, she backed away several steps, clutching her chest and gasping for air.
Ronin knelt beside Kane's body, anger and disgust coursing through him in equal measures. Elena had called him one of their strongest warriors, their only true warrior. Worthy of the honor of guarding Shayla. Worthy even of giving his life for her.
An urge to apologize swept over Ronin, but he resisted it. If a spirit could linger, it would only piss Kane off to have his sacrifice reduced to Ronin's mistake. Instead, he reached down and closed Kane's eyes. Another sign of respect that felt like a poor repayment for all he had given.
Ronin couldn't let himself off the hook as easily. The moment Sanaa's body went limp as if someone had pulled a plug from her back, he should have known. Only one person in the world knew how deep his fear of losing another mate ran. Only one person in the world would use it against him to betray their family. Niabe.
He met Sanaa's eyes, seeing the same grim realization settle on them as had taken hold of him. Their best plan, their last stand, had been a failure before it even began. Channing and Niabe countered their move with hardly any effort.
He was Ronin Nori, the Dragon in the Mountain...and he couldn't protect his own child.
Sanaa's gasps grew louder and more frequent, rising in pitch as her panic increased. "This can't...be happening. It can't!"
Ronin dragged himself to his feet and stumbled toward her. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words disappeared in the wake of the piercing shriek that exploded from Sanaa's lips. The force of the sound left him stumbling backward, clamping his hands over his ears.
"Sanaa!" His lips formed the words, his throat contracted, but none of the sound waves penetrated her wail.
Ronin knew the heavy emotion in her scream. Grief. The kind of crushing, burning blackness that came with a loss that one wasn't strong enough to prevent. He was all too familiar with that particular brand of grief and how dangerous it could be.
Sanaa ran to the mouth of the cave at full speed. With each step her human form disappeared as her muscles and bones expanded, giving way to her thunderbird. By the time he hauled himself to his feet and ran after her, Sanaa was already in the sky. Her cries of pain pierced the rain clouds. The steely gray puffs darkened and swelled. Crashes of thunder rumbled overhead as bolts of lightning crashed to the ground.
His daughter, stolen. His mate, broken and in danger of setting the desert ablaze. Him, without even enough energy to call his dragon form forth.
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.
Ronin could still see Adad's kohl-rimmed eyes glaring down at him, an iridescent ball of powyr swirling in his hand just in case the dragon was stupid enough to shift forms and fly off again.
He dipped into the wyrd, let it flow through him, fill him with a surge of powyr. A swirling ball of it gathered in his hand. Just as Adad had done, Ronin extended his hand, taking aim at the grief-stricken thunderbird.
"I'm sorry, love." He fired.
The orb collided with the thunderbird, sending it tumbling to earth. But Ronin didn't hover over her or glare at her. He knelt beside her, pulling her into his arms. "We can still find her."
Clarity came back to her eyes slowly as his words sank in. She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. "How?"
"The connection of the wyrd. You can use it, remember?"
"No, you can tap into it. I can't even feel it."
He clasped her head in his hands. "Yes, you can. You just have to close your eyes and open yourself to the wyrd."
"I'm telling you, I don't have that kind of powyr. I'm just a skinwalker."
Ronin braced his hand over her bare chest. "A skinwalker who's the mother of a dragon. The first dragon skinwalker in the world. You can do this."
She pulled away. "I don't need a lecture in self-esteem. I don't know how to do it, and we don't have time for me to learn. We have to follow them!"
Ronin held her in place. He didn't speak again until she met his eyes. "I promise you, no matter what it takes, I will bring our little girl home, but I can't find her without you. You can do this. Just close your eyes and open yourself to the wyrd."
Sanaa did as instructed, taking a deep breath. "Okay."
"Think of Shayla. Her smell. The way she feels when she's in your arms. Remember those sensations as you tap into the wyrd. Let them pull you toward Shayla." He kept whispering to her, keeping his voice even and light, using it to guide her breathing.
After a few seconds, Sanaa opened her eyes and pointed west toward the highway.
13
Two figures rode through the mountain canyons, their shoulders slumped beneath brown cloaks. Ronin soared over them, watching as they pushed their horses at a solid trot. Even from the air, he could see the bundle that each rider carried strapped to their saddle. Shayla lay in each basket, cheeks flushed, her mouth open in a wail of distress.
Ronin didn't blame them for running. If he had pissed off a dragon so close to its lair, he would run for his life with whatever prize he could claim too. Unfortunately for the Blood Sorcerer, he wanted one of the few treasures with which Ronin could never part. And for the first time, they had an advantage Channing and Niabe didn't know about.
The thunderbird glided on the air current in front of him. She dipped her beak toward the figure on the left, whose broad shoulders suggested was Channing. Her wings banked left, tilting her path to intercept him.
Ronin careened toward the ground to block her path, pausing just long enough to wave her off. He tucked his wings to his body to increase his speed as he raced over Channing's path. He released his form in mid-flight, tapping into his powyr to slow his descent.
"Don't follow me," he whispered as he searched the sky for the thunderbird. "I can fight him as a human. You can't."
Sanaa must have seen him change. She dipped her wings again, banking to the right this time to follow Niabe. It was just as well Ronin would be the one to fight Channing. Weariness had already crept into his muscles from the strain of performing too many feats of power near the top of his skillset. If he played the next few minutes well, he had enough energy left to separate Shayla from the Channing and keep them apart.
Channing spotted Ronin as he came around a bend in the path. He pulled the reins, slowing the horse to a walk. "Don't insult me by thinking you somehow outplayed me, Dragon. Believe me, you don’t have the skill."
Ronin forced his shoulders down and ignored the thundering of his heart in his ears. He couldn't afford to let his enemy see weakness "My family is a game to you, Channing?"
He snorted. "The Chavez family is, one I've been playing since way back, and I'm not ashamed to say I've gotten very good at it. Meeting Niabe was happenstance, just an opportunity seized. But Sanaa? If you only knew the nights I spent thinking about her, Dragon. How long I spent hoping, dreaming that she might show half as much promise as her mother. Even I couldn't have foreseen that she would deliver so spectacularly."
Ronin squeezed his hand into a fist, holding the tension until his muscles trembled. He opened his hand, calling a stream of fire into it. "Give my daughter back to me, and I might let you walk away."
Channing clicked his tongue. "Dragon, you insult me. Do you think I believe for one second that you would fire on me while your precious Shayla is strapped to my saddle?"
"We both know that isn't Shayla. You made a powyr clone." Ronin canted his head to the side, straining for any sound that would tell him how Sanaa's fight was going. She had to have caught up to N
iabe by now. He couldn't attack with Shayla so close, but he couldn't stall Channing forever.
"Ah, but that's where you're wrong. You see a powyr clone is...serviceable for certain occasions, but for a decoy mission what you need is something more tangible than powyr alone. More visceral, if you will. A little blood to really give the illusion some meat.”
"You're a sick son of a bitch, you know that?"
"I pay you a compliment and you return with an insult. Are all dragons so rude?"
"I wouldn't know." Ronin opened his hand, calling a stream of powyr into it. "I didn't grow up around my kind."
"Then you, more than anyone else, should understand what an advantage this could be for Shayla. If the Bloodbones raise her, she'll end up smoking her brains out in the desert. Saddled with a mate too scared to fight. Children who will never reach their potential. With me, she can see everything the world has to offer. In my court, she would have a place of honor! Would she even have a place among your kind or in that pitiful excuse for a village the Bloodbones call home?
"Save your damn sales pitch, man. I'm not buying."
A chilling smirk came to Channing's lips. "No, Dragon, you are stalling because you can't strike me without putting your child at risk, and you can't be sure this isn't the real Shayla. How good is your aim? At this distance, can you be sure you will hit me and not her?"
Ronin set his jaw. No, he couldn't be sure. Any spell he threw at Channing could easily hit Shayla. Not that it mattered. One feat of complex powyr work in a single day he could manage. One feat of endurance powyr work he could handle. Both in the same day, within hours of one another, was miles beyond the limit. Only the strength of his determination kept him on his feet. That and the vow he made to his mate.
"Unfortunately for you," Channing said, extending his arm. "I can be sure of it."
A wave of blood-red powyr shot forward from his hand. It hit Ronin square in the chest, but the pain he expected never arrived. Drops of blood ripped through his skin, torn from the cells that depended on it. They gathered on the surface as a pressure vacuum sent them flying back to Channing.
