Her eyes snap open, gold ringed with bright, wild amber.Not human.Her beast is rising.
“Silas,” she breathes, voice shaking.“Something’s...”
She gasps and her spine arches.Her fingers claw at the air.Her pupils blow wide.
“I...I can’t...”
“It’s all right,” I say, reaching out but stopping just short of touching her.“It’s your leopard.”
“No,” she whispers, terrified.“She’s, she’s pushing ...she’s, Silas, I can’t stop her.”
“You’re not supposed to stop her.”
Her breathing hitches and then the shift takes over.
It’s not controlled, it’s not graceful, and it’s everything but gentle.It’s pure instinct taking over.Her body folds with a sharp cry, the sound ripping through me.Her bones shift under the skin and her muscles tear and reform.Her claws push through her fingertips as she collapses onto her hands.
My dire wolf snarls, instinct surging.
Help.Protect.Guard.
But I force myself still.She needs space.She needs to let her instincts lead her.She needs her freedom.She gasps again, sharp, and agonized.
“I’m sorry...”she chokes.“I can’t...Silas...”
“You don’t have to apologize,” I say, my voice shaking with the restraint it takes to keep my dire wolf at bay.“Let go.I’m right here.”
Her form flickers, human one second, leopard-boned the next.Her back arcs sharply as the leopard takes over.Her breathing breaks into panting sobs.A shift snaps down her spine.A ripple rolls over her skin.Her cries turn into a raw, wild sound.
Her leopard explodes outward.A sleek spotted form tumbles forward onto trembling paws.She collapses onto the soft grass, her chest heaving, and her sides quivering from the effort.
Aria’s leopard lifts her head slowly.The gold in her eyes burns into my very soul.It’s primal, beautiful, and free.
I drop to my knees without thinking.
“Aria,” I whisper.
Her ears flatten.She tries to pull back, her instinct still tangled with fear.Her paws slip in the grass.Her body curls small, as if bracing for pain.
My heart breaks for her.“Aria, look at me.”
Her golden eyes flick to mine.Recognition flashes.Tentative and shaky but real.
I inhale, letting my dire wolf’s presence bleed into the air softly—not dominance, not threat, just grounding.Her leopard freezes before she lets out a breath and crawls one trembling step toward me.Then another.
My breathing stops.
She presses her head to my knee.A broken, fragile gesture.Not claiming and not submission.But not fear either.
No, she is seeking comfort.
I lift my hand slowly, letting her scent me.She breathes me in, whiskers brushing my skin.Her tail flicks uncertainly.She’s trembling so hard, her paws slip in the grass.
“You did it,” I murmur.“You shifted.”
She lets out a small, vulnerable sound, half-purr, half-whimper.
My chest cracks open.My dire wolf surges to the surface, demanding to protect, to curl around her, to bury her in warmth.But I stay human.For her.For her fear.For her fragile sense of control.
