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they stepped through the kitchen door, but Pru frolicked at his feet, rubbing against his legs like she never intended to change back. Before, there had been no time to reflect, but there was no doubt now. She saved me. Such a fearless little cat. Her ambush had been exactly the distraction he needed to get out of that corner and turn the tide. He ran a hand over her back, admiring her markings. Like her mother before, she was an ocelot, larger than their non-shifting cousins but small by Animari standards.
    But she did it. She shifted.
    Kneeling beside her, he stroked her head and whispered, “Come back now, Pru. It’s been too long already.”
    She vibrated a little, maybe in protest, but then she toppled into his arms, all woman, all naked. Blood smeared her face, especially around her mouth, caked and dry now. Normally, her parents would’ve talked her through this, but because she was twenty-seven—incredibly late for the ability to kick in—the charge fell to him. Tears streamed from her eyes, and she trembled all over, so hard that he had to hold her close and press her face to his shoulder to keep her from biting her tongue. He took a moment to be grateful that she’d cleaned the kitchen floor.
    “Everything hurts,” she got out from between chattering teeth.
    “I know.” He stroked her back. “The older you are, the more your bones have fused. So shifting is tough. And it feels worse than it does for someone who started around puberty.”
    “Will it al-always be this bad?”
    “I don’t know anyone who broke through past twenty-five, so I’m not sure. But Arran was twenty, and he said it got better, slowly. So give your body time to adapt, yeah?”
    “I feel like I’m dying.”
    “You’re not. Breathe for me.”
    Her lips parted against his bare shoulder, rousing unexpected chills. If she didn’t need soothing so bad, he’d suggest they put some clothes on. Hers lay on the floor in the next room, but she was too shaky to separate yet. After his first shift, Dom recalled clearly how he’d felt, almost eighteen years ago now, clinging to his father, sick with exhilaration and a bewildering, brand-new biological cocktail.
    Pru wound herself around him, arms so tight about his neck that he had a hard time getting oxygen. He didn’t try to detach her; instead he massaged her biceps in turn, then he rubbed her all over as he’d never touched any woman but Dalena. First-generation kin and mated pairs—they were usually the only ones to see somebody after an initial shift…and this was why.
    In time her shivers subsided enough for her to say, “They thought you’d be alone. But… why do the Eldritch want you dead? There are four days before the new negotiations begin and a full two weeks until the old treaty terms expire.”
    It had been so fucking long since he turned his mind to such questions, but the answer came nonetheless. “Guessing here, but… I’m more moderate than Slay. If he becomes pride leader, it’ll be easier to provoke a fight.”
    “Between the Golgoth and us?” Pru guessed.
    He smiled against the top of her head. “Exactly. If we battle the Golgoth to the point of exhaustion—”
    “The Eldritch sweep in and conquer both our territories. They’re not much for open warfare, so this sort of shadow play is precisely their style.”
    Her excellent, concise summary startled him so much that he tipped her head back to study her face. “Since when do you know so much about politics?”
    “Since always. I’ve spent my life studying since I couldn’t take patrols, couldn’t stand watch, couldn’t scout, couldn’t fight, couldn’t—”
    “Hey.” He set a finger against her lips to stem that bitter tide.
    “Sorry. I still can’t believe it. I don’t even know how I did it or if I can do it again.” She dropped her head to his shoulder, hiding her face. “I’m honestly afraid it was a fluke.”
    Dom laughed. “Silly kitten. I’ve never heard of anyone shifting