For a moment, Kyra stood dumbfounded, unsure in her new body. She tried to step forward but didn’t know which legs moved together. Behind her, she felt what must have been her tail, snaking back and forth as she shifted her weight.

Then James turned to run, and her instincts flared. She overtook him in two bounds and coiled around. Her claws opened three slashes across his chest and one across his face. It was so easy to push him over and pin him to the ground. As she held him there, she saw her forelimb for the first time. Dark brown, the same color as her hair, with wiry muscles underneath the fur.

James’s face, crisp in her strange new vision, held an expression she had never seen on him before—eyes rolled to the side, edges of his mouth pulled back in a grimace. He was scared. She could smell his fear, mingled with the blood that seeped through his cuts. She breathed in deeply, relishing the scent. A mere swipe from her and he would fall lifeless. Around her, she sensed the clan watching. She itched to tear him open, dig into his throat, but would the others interfere? Would they protect him? Instinctively, she knew that they wouldn’t. It was her kill, and they wouldn’t intrude. Kyra unsheathed her claws.

The circle, the victim, the smell of fear and blood…

She’d been here before. There was something she needed to remember. It was hard to make sense of these memories with this bloodlust urging her toward her victim. Kyra raised her claws to strike.

Then she remembered. The dream. The raid. Once again, she felt the manservant sink to the ground as the life drained out of him. Kyra saw herself in the courtyard of the Assassins Guild, shaking with horror as she scrubbed an innocent man’s blood off her hands.

Kyra sheathed her claws just before her blow connected. James’s head smashed against a rock, and he went limp.

Thirty-nine

T H I R T Y - N I N E

Kyra staggered back, tripping over her own legs. Already, her body was melting into itself. Her fur smoothed out into skin. A chill wind brushed her, and Kyra realized she was naked. Demon Riders surrounded her and guided her limp arms into a tunic.

She was drowning in images—like the pictures from her nightmares, but so much stronger. She tried to distinguish dream from reality, cat instincts from human, but everything slipped away.

“Take care of the other two,” she heard Leyus say.

Kyra looked up to see Shea and Alex scramble onto their horses and flee into the trees. Five demon cats streaked after them. Something stirred within her. She longed to join the chase, bring the riders down and tear them to pieces. A growl stirred at the base of her throat.

“Kyra!” Pashla was shaking her, hard. “It is done. Stay with me.”