Page 31 of Grin and Bear It

“Goodnight, Thora.”

She closed the door as much as the tether would allow—which wasn’t much, leaving it ajar with the golden cord passing through the gap. With a sigh, she surveyed the guest room. Like everything associated with the Maxens, it was luxurious without being ostentatious: a queen-sized bed with crisp white linens, tasteful landscape paintings, and plush carpeting that cushioned her steps.

After washing up as best she could given the tether’s constraints, Thora changed into a borrowed T-shirt that must have belonged to Bryn. It hung loose on her frame, but the soft cotton felt good against her skin.

She slipped into bed, hyper-aware of the door standing partially open, the tether a constant reminder of Artair’s presence down the hall. Despite the day’s exhaustion, sleep eluded her. The events kept replaying in her mind: the bathroom collision, the dinner, the strange moment of connection during the grooming ritual.

The honey cake challenge lingered most vividly in her thoughts. The intensity of Artair’s gaze had awakened something in her—a primitive recognition between predators that transcended their different species. Her sabertooth had responded to his bear with surprising eagerness.

THIRTY

Just as her eyelids grew heavy, the tether shimmered. Thora bolted upright as the golden cord contracted violently, just as it had in the bathroom.

“What the—” she gasped as an invisible force yanked her from the bed.

Down the hall, she heard Artair’s startled exclamation. The bedroom door flew fully open as the tether dragged her into the hallway. At the same moment, Artair stumbled out of his room, pulled by the same magical force.

They collided in the middle of the hallway, Thora’s momentum carrying them both against the opposite wall. Artair’s arms wrapped around her to cushion the impact, their bodies pressed together from chest to knee.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Thora breathed, acutely aware of his warmth through the thin T-shirt.

“The magic seems to have ideas of its own,” Artair replied, his voice hushed in the darkened hallway.

Neither moved to separate. The tether glowed softly between them, contracted to barely two feet now.

“It won’t let us sleep apart,” Thora stated the obvious, trying to keep her tone matter-of-fact despite the intimacy of their position.

Artair nodded, his expression unreadable in the dim light. “We have two options. We can try to sleep in the hallway, or...”

“Or?”

“We share a room.”

Thora swallowed. The rational choice was clear, but something about voluntarily sharing sleeping space with Artair made her heart race. “Fine. A room. But separate beds.”

“My room has a daybed near the window,” he offered. “It’s meant for reading, but it should work.”

“Lead the way,” Thora said, stepping back from his embrace with reluctance she refused to acknowledge.

Artair’s bedroom was larger than the guest room, dominated by a massive king-sized bed. A leather reading chair and the mentioned daybed occupied a windowed alcove. Moonlight streamed through the glass, bathing the space in silver.

“You take the bed,” Thora insisted. “I’ll make do with the daybed.”

He looked like he wanted to argue but nodded. “There are extra blankets in the chest at the foot of the bed.”

They prepared for sleep in awkward silence, navigating the shared space with careful movements to avoid further contact. Thora settled onto the daybed, which proved narrower than she’d hoped but still reasonably comfortable.

“Goodnight,” she said again, turning her back to the room.

“Goodnight, Thora.”

The sound of her name in his deep voice sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing sleep to come quickly.

Despite her exhaustion, consciousness lingered. She listened to Artair’s breathing across the room, noting when it eventuallyslowed and deepened with sleep. Only then did she allow herself to relax, her own breaths synchronizing unconsciously with his.

Dreams came swiftly, more vivid than any she’d experienced before.

A young girl huddled on a rooftop, knees pulled to her chest as she gazed at stars barely visible through city light pollution. Below, an orphanage stood dark and quiet. Loneliness pressed against her small body like a physical weight.

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