Delaynie whined, dipping her head.
Krilene nodded. “Good. Your will is the first step.” She leaned forward, lifting a hand. Delaynie went rigid as the goddess’s touch sank into her soft fur.
“Your calm is the next,” Krilene continued. “I can feel your panic. Your stress. You must take control of it. It is causing you to fight this form, which is only going to lock you into it. You have to find peace in order to let it go.”
They held each other’s stares for a long moment—goddess and wolf, ageless and young, warrior and beast. Something passed between them, something Quentin felt tremble in the earth. He took a half-step back, fingers itching toward his baldric on an instinct that was as ingrained in him as breathing.
Delaynie’s eyes shuddered closed. She drew in a deep, rumbling breath, her flanks expanding beneath her fur.
She slowly released it. Krilene smiled, withdrawing her hand and stepping back.
“Now,” the goddess commanded. “Shift.”
Blue light flashed through the jungle, a bright spark beneath the vine-laden canopy. Quentin blinked, vision peppering, a hand flying up to shield his eyes.
He lowered it slowly. Delaynie knelt in the moss, panting, dressed in the same cream button-down shirt she’d been in thatmorning. Her auburn hair swept over her shoulders, creamy skin on display.
Human. She was so gloriously, perfectlyhuman.
Quentin surged forward, dropping to his knees at her side, pulling her into his chest. She was soft and pliant, shaking slightly as she gripped his shirt and burrowed her face in his chest.
“It’s okay, little wolf,” he murmured, inhaling that perfect scent. “I’m here. You’re back. I’m here.”
The same words, over and over and over again. Gradually her breathing slowed, though the tremors in her body didn’t stop.
She went rigid, spine locking. With a sudden, violent shove, she threw herself from his arms, wheeling away to face a low, sprawling shrub.
And emptied the contents of her stomach.
Krilene chuckled. “Yes, apologies. The first shift back can be a bit of a shock to the system. I should’ve warned you.”
Quentin ignored the goddess, scrambling to his feet. He gathered Delaynie’s hair, holding it around the nape of her neck and resting a steadying hand on her back. She weakly tried to push him away, a soft “no” slipping past her lips.
“Sorry, Del,” Quentin said gently. “I just saw you rip the arms off grown men. This is nothing. Let me help you.”
She tilted her head to the side, shooting him a glare. Her mouth parted?—
Her body heaved, and she doubled over back into the underbrush.
Quentin held her through it, murmuring soft words of comfort. Krilene lingered a short distance away, arms crossed, looking increasingly more impatient as the minutes ticked past.
Finally, Delaynie’s trembling subsided. She leaned back, bracing against Quentin, her already pale skin washed of color.
“Better?” he murmured. She met his stare, giving a short nod.
“Here.” A hand appeared above them, shoving a waterskin in their faces. “Drink. It will help.”
Delaynie quietly took Krilene’s offering, uncorking the skin. She sniffed it delicately, recoiling slightly. “This isn’t water.”
“No. It’s juice. Like I said, it will help.”
Delaynie hesitated but lifted the skin to her lips. She took a small sip, tasting the liquid on her tongue. Her eyes widened, and she took another gulp, then another, and another?—
“All right. Not too much.” Krilene snatched the skin back. “Or else you’ll just make yourself sick again.” She pulled a dark material from her robes, tossing it at Delaynie’s feet. “And trousers, too. The jungle is no place for bare legs.”
Delaynie glared at the goddess, but already color was staining her cheeks. She shakily rose to her feet, snatching the soft brown pants from the ground and pulling them over her thighs. Quentin turned away, giving her a bit of privacy, but not before he caught the flush spreading over her cheeks.
“Thank you,” Delaynie said once she was dressed. “For your help.”
