Page 47 of Grin and Bear It

For one suspended moment, Thora thought he might kiss her. For one suspended moment, she wanted him to.

The realization should have terrified her. This mysterious attraction between them had grown far beyond any magical tether. Something deeper connected them now—something her sabertooth recognized even if her human side resisted.

Bryn’s words from breakfast echoed in her mind:“Have you considered that you might deserve to be chosen anyway?”

As Artair’s fingers continued their gentle path through her hair, Thora found herself wondering for the first time what it might be like to be chosen. To be wanted not for her skills or her body, but for herself. To have someone’s eyes light up when she entered a room. To belong somewhere. To someone.

The thought was simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating.

“Rest,” Artair murmured, his voice a soothing rumble. “I’ll be here.”

And the most frightening part was—she believed him.

From the kitchen, Willow’s voice broke the moment. “The compress needs changing. Kalyna, bring me the yarrow infusion.”

As the women approached with fresh herbal remedies, Thora caught Kalyna’s knowing smile. The fox shifter might tease mercilessly, but her eyes held genuine warmth.

“You know,” Kalyna said conversationally as she helped Willow prepare the new compress, “the last time I saw a bear look at someone that way, there was a mating ceremony the following month.”

“Kalyna,” Willow sighed, though her eyes twinkled with amusement. “What did we say about antagonizing the patient?”

“That it improves circulation?”

“Nice try.” Willow turned to Thora. “Ignore her. She’s been trying to matchmake every unmated shifter in town since she and Rust tied the knot.”

“Someone has to,” Kalyna defended. “You young people are too slow. Do you know how many decades I waited for my mate to show up? Life’s too short—even for immortals.”

As the women bantered, Thora found herself reconsidering her hastily formed opinions of Enchanted Falls. This strange little town with its magical folk and ancient grudges also contained unexpected warmth—Bryn’s immediate acceptance, Kalyna’s teasing friendship, Willow’s gentle wisdom, Jash’s earnest enthusiasm.

And Artair... who somehow seemed to represent both the town’s formidable strength and its surprising tenderness.

For the first time in her nomadic life, Thora caught herself wondering what it might be like to stay somewhere. Not forever,perhaps, but long enough to learn the rhythm of a place. Long enough to form connections that went deeper than a temporary alliance or a transactional exchange.

Long enough to discover if what she saw in Artair’s eyes when he looked at her could be real.

The thought should have sent her running. Instead, as the healing herbs worked their magic and sleep began to claim her, Thora found herself uncharacteristically looking forward to tomorrow.

FORTY-FOUR

Amber light spilled through the cabin windows as dawn broke over Enchanted Falls. Artair halted his pacing to study Thora’s face. The quilt covering her rose and fell with each shallow breath. Beads of sweat gathered at her temples, her skin flushed with fever despite the cool morning air.

He pressed his palm to her forehead. Burning. Worse than last night.

His bear clawed inside him, desperate to protect what it already considered theirs. Artair had called Willow immediately after the attack, and while her herbal compresses had initially seemed to help, the poison had surged back overnight with a vengeance. The bear bane—meant for him—now coursed through Thora’s veins.

She shifted, a small whimper escaping her lips. The sound pierced him more effectively than any physical blow.

Artair grabbed his phone, thumb hovering over Willow’s number, when the floorboard behind him creaked.

“Your security needs work,” a crisp voice announced.

He spun around, tension coiled in his muscles. His grandmother stood in the doorway. The scent of pine and mountain air clung to her silver hair.

“Grandma? How did you?—”

“Bears always know when family’s in danger.” Eira’s sharp gaze swept past him, zeroing in on Thora’s prone form. She crossed the room with surprising agility for a woman in her seventies, her lined face betraying nothing as she assessed the situation.

Artair ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. “I didn’t call you.”

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