Page 36 of Grin and Bear It

“Of course!” Bryn smiled warmly. “That’s what friends do. Plus, I figured you’d want your own stuff back after being stuck in my cast-offs.”

Something flickered across Thora’s face—a flash of uncertainty, as if she didn’t quite know how to respond to the casual kindness. “Thanks,” she said finally.

“No problem.” Bryn waved dismissively.

After Bryn and Jash departed, Thora turned to Artair. “Your sister is...”

“A force of nature?” he supplied, smiling. “She’s always been that way. Even as a cub, she’d bowl people over with enthusiasm.”

“She’s nice.” Thora spoke the word as if testing its validity. “Genuine.”

“That’s Bryn.” He studied Thora’s expression. “You sound surprised.”

Thora shrugged. “People usually want something when they’re nice to me.”

The simple statement hit Artair harder than she probably intended. His bear rumbled in protective displeasure. How many people had sought to use her over the years? Took advantage of her skills without offering genuine connection in return?

“Not everyone,” he said quietly.

Her amber eyes met his, wary but not dismissive. “Maybe not. But enough.”

Their gazes held for a moment too long to be casual. Without the tether forcing proximity, the choice to remain in each other’s space felt significant. Artair noticed how the morning light caught golden flecks in her eyes, how a small scar near her left eyebrow whitened slightly when she frowned in thought.

“We should get ready,” she said, breaking the moment. “If we’re going after Blackwater, I need to prep my gear.”

“Of course.” Artair gestured toward the door. “The guest bathroom has everything you need. Take your time.”

As she gathered her clothes and headed for the door, Artair noticed her hesitate at the threshold. She glanced back at him, an unspoken question in her eyes.

“The tether’s gone,” he confirmed, understanding her uncertainty. “You’re free to move as you wish.”

She nodded, but didn’t immediately leave. “Those dreams... do you think they’ll stop now that the magical connection is broken?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “Magic often leaves traces even after the spell dissipates.”

“Right.” She shifted her weight, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. “And the shifting? The... whatever that was this morning?”

Artair considered how much to tell her. His bear urged complete honesty—tell her we’ve chosen her as mate—but his human side recognized the need for caution. Thora spooked easily when it came to emotional connections.

“Our animals responded to each other,” he said carefully. “Bears and sabertooths are both solitary apex predators. It’s unusual for them to find comfort in proximity. The fact that they did suggests... compatibility.”

“Compatibility,” she repeated, testing the word.

“On a primal level,” he clarified, watching her reaction. “The human side is more complicated.”

She processed this, then nodded slowly. “I should shower.”

“I’ll see you downstairs.”

After she left, Artair sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair. His bear paced restlessly in his mind, dissatisfied with his restraint.Claim mate, it insisted.Make her stay.

“Not that simple,” he murmured to himself.

Thora Halliwell wasn’t someone to be claimed or possessed. Her independence defined her. If he wanted any chance of building something real with her, he’d need patience. She’d spent her life guarding her heart, expecting abandonment. Racing in with bear-like possessiveness would only trigger her sabertooth’s fight-or-flight response.

Artair’s gaze caught on the window, where early morning sun illuminated his property. Near the tree line, a patch of wild sunflowers nodded in the breeze. He recalled Thora’s expression yesterday when they’d driven past a similar field on the way to his office—a flash of unguarded delight quickly masked by her usual reserve.

She’d stared at those flowers with such quiet longing that he’d nearly stopped the car. What was it about sunflowers that sparked that reaction? A memory, perhaps? Something from before the orphanage?

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