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.

Iona jumped awake to find everything dark. She lifted her head, startled to find herself still panther. Her claws had dug a deep gouge in her sofa, she saw with her cat vision. Crap.

She stepped down from the sofa and stretched. She was supposed to feel better—fed, rested, the worry of the day behind her.

Instead, she was restless, pacing, growling to herself. She needed to shift back to human.

And found she didn’t want to. She wanted to run, to hunt, to kill. She needed to.

She remembered the scent of lovemaking on Nicole, the heightened warmth of the baby inside her, and started to wind up again. Iona needed that, the smell of sex, the heat of a male body on hers, wanted to press her hand to her own abdomen and know that life was growing there.

She needed it now.

Iona forced herself back to human. The shift took a long time, and hurt, more so than usual, her panther reluctant to let go.

She stood in the middle of the hallway between living room and kitchen, shaking. The mirror there showed her black hair a mess, her eyes enormous and still Shifter.

Iona snatched up her phone and started punching numbers.

He answered this time. Thank God.

“Eric,” she said frantically. “Eric, I need you.”

CHAPTER SIX

Eric killed his motorcycle’s engine before he reached Iona’s house, and coasted the dark bike up into the driveway, parking it in the shadows. Iona opened the door for him as he approached, but Eric pushed her back into the house.

Iona smelled of wild female, full of need. Eric wanted to grab her by the nape of the neck, haul her up the stairs to her bedroom, shut the door behind them, and not come out for a week.

Iona had put on sweatpants as Eric had told her to on the phone, and she wore a cropped sports shirt that doubled as a bra, its collar hugging her throat.

The honed body the small shirt revealed didn’t help Eric’s frenzy. They might not even make it to the bedroom.

“Ready?” he asked.

Iona nodded. She clenched her teeth, her eyes definitely Shifter.

They quietly left the house again, Eric leading her to his bike.

Iona took the helmet he handed her but didn’t put it on. “I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before.”

“You’ll get it. Helmet first, then hold on to me when you’re on.”

He straddled the seat and held the bike steady so Iona could mount behind him. Even with her helmet, she looked sexy as hell, felt sexy as hell cuddled up to the back of him.

Iona figured out how to rest her feet, then wrapped her arms around Eric.

The night suddenly got warmer. Eric coasted the bike down the driveway, starting it up when they swung out into the street.