She’d closed her mouth, knowing she couldn’t betray the Shifters’ secret places under their houses and what they kept there, not even to her mother. Not yet.

“I think they can do it,” Iona finished.

Penny’s eyes filled. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.” Iona put her arms around the smaller woman. “No matter what, you won’t.”

Penny’s hugs had always been able to comfort her. Not today. Iona was restless and worried, feeling trapped. She hadn’t been this way in Shiftertown—her hungers had been somewhat abated there.

What had Eric done to her? Addicted her to Shifters?

But, no, this restlessness had begun before she’d met Eric, starting with what she now knew was called her Transition. She’d survived that only to have her frenzies flare again with mating hunger. If Eric hadn’t found her that night in Coolers, she’d by now either be a puddle of quivering goo, or else out in the woods as a panther, unable to remember how to be human.

Iona had gone home after that, eaten everything in her refrigerator, and started on what was in the freezer. She stared at the low-calorie frozen meals she’d bought a few weeks ago, thinking herself virtuous. She couldn’t believe her stupidity.

Snarling, Iona hauled all the boxes out of the freezer and threw them into the garbage.

No, wait. The spaghetti ones were pretty good. She grabbed all the spaghetti and tomato sauce dinner boxes back out of the trash, ripped them open, scraped them all into a bowl, and popped the bowl in the microwave. She waited impatiently for the stuff to heat up, then she gulped down the entire bowl of pasta, the red sauce sliding down to ruin her pristine white shirt.

Not enough. Iona tossed the empty bowl—which she’d licked clean—into the sink, tore off her sauce-stained clothes, showered, brushed her teeth, and dressed again in sweats and a tank top.

There. Civilized.

And still starving. Iona walked back through the dark house, not bothering with the lights. She could order pizza again, but she worried about what she’d do to the guy who brought it, in the state she was in.

She called Eric. He didn’t answer. She knew he’d walked out of the office without saying good-bye because he was protecting her from Kellerman. He didn’t want Kellerman to know Iona was anything to him, that he even noticed her in the room. Iona knew that, and still felt empty.

Iona threw the phone down. She shivered, so hungry. She had to get out.

And then he was there. Eric came out of the shadows of her back hall while Iona was reaching for her keys. She didn’t bother wondering how he’d gotten in. Eric always found a way.

Without a word, Eric took the keys from her fingers and dropped them on the table, then he flowed against her, and their mouths met.

Eric twined his fingers through hers, lifting their hands out to their sides, and turned slowly with her as though they danced. All the while he kissed her in silence, his mouth a place of heat.

Their bodies fused, her sweatpants thin enough that she could feel his hardness in his jeans. She loved the ridge of it against her, remembered the feel of it in her hand, wanted it inside her.

“Eric,” she whispered.

He caught the word on his lips. He opened her mouth and explored it in long, sultry strokes of his tongue, licking, then nipping. He still wore his leather coat, the scent of it mixing with his musk and his taste.

Eric drew their twined hands up between them, releasing her mouth to transfer hot, slow kisses to her fingers.

“Be my mate,” he said. “Sun and moon. Say yes.” He sucked the tip of her middle finger into his mouth. “I’m dying for you, Iona.”

She was dying for him. “You want me to be Shifter.”

“You are Shifter. Experience it with me, at my side.”

“I want…” Heat and frustration warred within in her. “I don’t know what I want.”

“It doesn’t matter. I need you.” Eric touched his face to hers. “It’s killing me.”

“Yes.” Iona let out a breath. “Eric, I’m so hungry.”

Her frustration came out as a growl. Eric growled in response. He took a step back, shed his jacket, and stripped off his shirt.

“Feast on me,” he said.

Iona just looked at him at first, letting his beauty fill her senses. The faint glow from the kitchen touched his body, his muscles a play of light and shadow, his eyes jade green in the darkness.

Looking wasn’t enough. Iona’s hands went to his bare torso, firm muscle under her fingertips. Hard pectorals, strong shoulders, tight biceps. She traced his tattoo, her mouth watering with the desire to lick it.

The world took on a slightly reddish tint, the walls around them concave, and she knew her eyes had become the Shifter’s. She growled again, the beast’s snarl in her throat.

Iona didn’t want to hurt him. She started to lift her hands away, fearing they’d sprout claws and gouge him, but Eric grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands back to him. His own eyes turned Shifter, with cat slits, his animal growl echoing hers.

Feast on me.

Iona bent her head, his hands still around her wrists, and washed the lines of his tatt with her tongue. His skin tasted salty, the ink lines smooth. She wound her way up the painted lines, across his bicep to his shoulder.

Now she wanted to bite. Iona moved her mouth to the skin between Eric’s shoulder and neck, and sucked a fold between her teeth.

He made a raw sound in his throat. Iona started to pull back, fearing she’d hurt him, but Eric slid his hand to her neck and pulled her to him again. “Slake the hunger. That’s why I’m here.”