On the Prowl

himself over her and drove home.
    With his second stroke, she exploded. On the third, he did, too.
    Eons later they lay in the crumpled dark with breaths and legs tangled together, the one still quick, the other limp. Kai found enough wind to say, “I always thought that was an old wives’ tale. And I didn’t do it myself, either.”
    “What?” He stroked her hair.
    “I’ve gone blind.”
    He choked on a laugh. “No, but the mage light…you were right, but so was I. Normally keeping it going is automatic, but I was distracted for a few moments there at the end. Extremely distracted.”
    The light bounced back into being, but muted now, no more than a candle glow hovering over his shoulder. She could see him smiling at her, and that was good. He’d invented a truly lovely smile this time.
    But she’d already known he was happy. His colors were so bright. She smiled back, loving him.
    “Sleep.” He touched her cheek and sat up.
    “Wait. Where are you going?”
    “Nowhere.” He reached for his pants. “But I need to stay alert, and I won’t if I lie beside you.”
    “I’m not…” But a yawn caught her, making a lie of what she’d been about to say, so she finished wryly, “…not going to argue, I guess. But you’ll need to sleep, too.”
    “I like sleep, but I can do without it, especially on a hunt. One sleepless night is easy enough for me.”
    There was some shifting necessary so she could zip the sleeping bag up around her. Somehow she hadn’t noticed the chill earlier, but she did now. He strapped that sheath with its lethal contents back on his calf and pulled on slacks and shirt, but didn’t seem bothered by the cold. Then he settled beside her and took her hand.
    The mage light winked out. “Do you mind?” he asked softly. “It’s best if I let my eyes accustom themselves to the moonlight.”
    What moonlight? The air might have turned to ink, it was so black. But she was too exhausted to care, and she had Nathan’s hand. Or maybe he had hers, and she pondered that and what difference, if any, it made as sleep drew her down, down, its raven feathers brushing her mind into stillness.

C HAPTER 12
    “K AI. ” Nathan touched her shoulder, frowning. He’d brought the mage light up again, hoping the cessation of dark would calm her. It hadn’t. “Kai, it’s all right. Wake up.”
    She stopped making the distressed noises. Her eyes opened. “What…”
    “You were dreaming, I think.” She’d whimpered, turning her head from side to side, then stilled. But her hand clasped his so tightly, and she’d kept making those small, unhappy sounds. “A bad dream.”
    “It was…I’ve had it before. The crying one.” She blinked fuzzily. “So lonely. At first I thought it was you, but this time I knew…she just wanted to be held, so I—What? What is it?”
    He’d sprung to his feet. The plucking inside him announced the breach of his wards a second before the beast crashed through the window.
    Glass smashed, flying everywhere. The chameleon landed on the floor between the window and him—and he stood between it and Kai. It was eight feet long counting the lashing tail, its shaggy fur like mottled smoke. Feline, with an oddly shaped muzzle, tufted ears, and the oversize pads of a mountain or arctic cat. And it needed only a split second to orient itself before launching all eight muscular feet at him.
    Kai screamed. He heard that, but his entire being was focused on his prey. He couldn’t move and expose Kai to those claws, so he locked himself to the earth and met the attack.
    Claws raked his forearm, ripping flesh from bone, spattering blood. He rocked back only an inch as he smashed his other fist inside the gaping mouth, aiming for the roof of it, where bone was thin and could be driven into the brain.
    But the beast was fast. It flung itself back, howling—and bunched its hindquarters, readying for another attack.
    “No!” Kai cried. “No, don’t—don’t—stop!”
    The beast shook its head. And looked at her.
    That second’s inattention was all Nathan needed. He had his knife in his hand as he leaped onto the beast’s back, seizing the great head so he could draw the blade across its—
    “Don’t kill her! She can’t help it, and she’s so lonely, so confused—don’t kill her, please. Please.”
    He froze, panting. His arm shook with the need to finish .
    But the chameleon wasn’t moving, either. It wasn’t moving.
    “See?” Her voice wobbled, but she