“No, I want to show Mom. Go on, before someone comes in.”

Iona went. She hugged Nicole again, giving her a kiss on her cheek, then put on her sunglasses as she stepped outside, in case her eyes didn’t change back.

She started her red pickup, then ended up with her hands on the wheel, dragging in deep breaths. The wild thing inside was clawing its way up, wanting out, needing release.

Iona still worried about Eric. Diego would look in on him, she tried to reassure herself, but Eric’s voice, his distress, pulled at her. She needed to see him.

No, she needed to stay away from Shiftertown.

But she needed to see him.

Iona clenched the wheel. Her hands sprouted claws, black fur rippling down her fingers. Damn it.

She forced her claws to be fingers again, put the truck in gear, and backed out of her place. She sped out into thick traffic, the commuters from Las Vegas heading home to Henderson and outlying areas.

Iona strove to drive carefully, but every time someone cut her off or tried to shove her out of her lane, the beast in her snarled.

This wasn’t road rage—she wanted to kill. She could taste it, felt the need to have hot blood filling her mouth.

Her hands changed to panther again, and Iona lost hold of the wheel. Shit. Iona grabbed it again, willing her hands to change back to human.

Hold it together, hold it together.

Eric’s visit had roused the Shifter in her. Iona had tried to keep the Shifter side of her quiet and out of sight all her life, suppressing the animal so she could live in peace and safety. Eric was goading that animal to become part of her everyday life, whether Iona liked it or not.

He’d showed her how to open herself to her sensitive sense of smell. Now scents poured in at her so thick and fast she couldn’t process them. Iona glanced at the man in the car next to her, and knew that, if she decided to, she could break through his window, grab him, and rip out his throat.

Just get home.

Iona drew a breath, slid her pickup into the quieter side streets of her neighborhood, and made it to her driveway. She shut off her engine, peeled her fingers from the wheel, and let out a long sigh.

Home. Safety.

Her next-door neighbor’s cat bounded over, a sleek black-and-white with a black patch over one eye. He jumped onto the hood of Iona’s truck and let out a meow.

Iona slid out of the truck and reached out to give Pirate a stroke as she went by. He liked Iona—most cats did.

Pirate drew back in alarm, flattened his ears, and hissed, before leaping down from the truck and running back home.

Hissing was defensive behavior, what a cat did when it perceived a threat. Pirate had seen the aggressor in Iona, even though she’d meant to caress, and had decided to get the hell out of there.

Iona hurried inside the house, shutting the door firmly and locking it with shaking fingers. She pulled out a bottle of merlot and poured a tall glass while she tried to think of something for an early dinner.

Except she wanted only meat, cooked rare if at all. Or maybe fish. She found herself diving through her freezer, searching frantically for something to satisfy her hunger, finding nothing.

“Fresh vegetables,” she said, pulling out bags from her crisper drawer. “Just why?”

Takeout. She could get takeout. But she didn’t trust herself to drive somewhere and pick up the food. She grabbed the phone and called her favorite pizza place, ordering three of the all-meat specials. “Having a party, Ms. Duncan?” the order taker asked.

She practically knew the kid, since she ordered from there all the time. “Yes,” she lied. “Can you rush those?”

“Sure thing.”

The pizza took twenty minutes, fast for delivery pizza. Even so, Iona nearly ripped open the door when the car arrived, remembering at the last minute to shove on her sunglasses. She grabbed the pizzas and threw money at the guy, too much, but he deserved a big tip. She slammed the door on his startled expression, and ran back into the kitchen.

“I’m just hungry,” Iona said out loud. “Eric ruined my lunch.”

Eric.

The thought of him brought new hunger, a rising frenzy that wanted her to take Eric by the neck and pull him down to her, to let his body cover hers, to feel his sweat on her skin, his mouth on hers.

“Eat,” she said to the empty kitchen.

The pizzas were slathered with hamburger, sausage, pepperoni, and Canadian bacon. It should have been called The Carnivore Special.

Penny had taught Iona how to eat healthy, nutritious meals. Right now, Iona could care less.

Eric had said, If you were in your panther form, you wouldn’t worry. You’d gulp it down and spit out the paper.

Substitute pizza boxes, and he was right.

Iona got out a plate and napkins before she dumped the pizza onto the plate. She could be civilized.

She growled. The mirror in her dining area told her that her eyes were still Shifter. She moved quickly through the house, closing all the blinds, then tossed off her clothes and let her panther take over.

Much better. Iona padded back into the kitchen, put her paws on the counter, and gulped down the pizzas. All three of them, all that meat and cheese going down fast. The tomato sauce and the crust tasted a little weird to her, but it was a small price to pay for the greasy, hot, spicy meat.

When the boxes were empty, her panther tongue licking up the last bit of cheese clinging to the cardboard, Iona burped. Then she sat down and started washing her whiskers.

The pizza filled her up and made her sleepy. Iona didn’t generally remain in her shifted form long, in case someone came over to catch her, but right now, all she wanted to do was curl up on her sofa and sleep. She went slowly to her living room, climbed onto the nice cushy sofa, and let her body go limp.