Page 76 of Grin and Bear It

Willow pulled several small pouches from her shawl pocket, breaking the charged silence. “Crushed moonflower petals for the wound site.” She placed one on the bedside table. “Mountain ash bark tea when she wakes—it’ll help flush remaining toxins.”

“When,” Artair repeated, clinging to the certainty in Willow’s voice.

“Her spirit fights hard.” Willow’s lips curved in a slight smile. “She has something worth returning for.”

The witch placed a comforting hand on his shoulder before departing. That small touch nearly shattered his control. His bear clawed inside him, desperate to howl out its fear. If Thora slipped away now, after he’d found her...

No. He couldn’t entertain that possibility.

Hours stretched into another evening. Artair dozed fitfully in the uncomfortable chair, hand still wrapped around hers. His dreams filled with forest paths—Thora’s sabertooth form sleek and powerful beside his bear, their movements perfectly synchronized.

The sound of voices outside the hospital room dragged him back to consciousness. He straightened, instantly alert. The voices grew closer—hushed but intense. One he recognized immediately as his grandmother Eira’s firm tone. The others...

The door swung open.

“Aleksander Tiikeri requests entry,” his grandmother announced formally, her shoulders set with the rigid posture of ancient protocol.

Artair rose to his feet as the elderly tiger shifter entered, flanked by Louisa and two other pride members. The air crackled with centuries of territorial instinct—bear clan and tiger pride rarely shared close quarters without tension.

Aleksander moved with surprising speed for his age, covering the distance to Thora’s bedside in three swift strides. His face—bearing the same high cheekbones and regal features as Thora—crumpled as he gazed down at her.

“My granddaughter,” he whispered, amber eyes bright with unshed tears.

Something shifted in Artair’s chest. This wasn’t a rival alpha encroaching on his territory. This was a man facing the potential loss of family he’d only just found.

“She has her mother’s fierce heart,” Aleksander said, voice breaking. “We cannot lose her again.”

Eira stepped forward, her initial wariness softening. “We won’t.” She turned to Artair. “The Tiikeri healers have specific knowledge of their bloodline. Combined with our bear clan remedies...”

She didn’t finish the thought, but Artair understood. Ancient rivalries took second place to Thora’s survival.

Louisa approached, carrying a wooden box inlaid with amber. “Tiger pride healing focuses on energy pathways.” She opened the box, revealing vials of golden liquid. The scent of sun-warmed amber and exotic herbs filled the room. “This traces the royal bloodline back thirty generations.”

Artair stepped back, allowing the Tiikeri healers space around Thora’s bed. Eira joined them, producing her own leather pouch of bear clan remedies—honey salve infused with mountain herbs passed down through Maxen generations.

Aleksander caught Artair’s eye across the bed. “Your scent marks her already.”

Not a question. Not an accusation either. Simply an observation from one alpha to another.

“She matters to me,” Artair replied, the understatement almost painful.

“Good.” Aleksander nodded once. “She deserves someone who recognizes her worth.”

The ritual began without further discussion. Tiikeri hands traced glowing amber patterns above Thora’s body while Eira’s deeper gold magic flowed from her fingertips. The colors merged where they met—amber and gold creating something new, something powerful.

A small gasp came from the doorway. Bryn stood there, phone in hand, capturing the moment. “For the historical record,” she whispered when Artair raised an eyebrow. “First documented cooperative healing between our clans in three centuries.”

Artair watched, mesmerized by the interweaving lights. The longer he observed, the more right it seemed—these supposedly rival magics complementing each other perfectly. Like Thora and himself, different yet somehow meant to fit together.

The combined healing ritual continued through the night. Artair refused to leave, even when Bryn brought him fresh clothes and coffee. Every time the healers paused to rest, he reclaimed his position at Thora’s side, monitoring her breathing for any change.

Dawn broke on the third day. Artair dozed in the chair beside Thora’s bed, his large hand still enveloping hers. The tiger and bear healers had departed for a few hours of much-needed sleep, leaving the room in peaceful silence.

Something changed. A subtle shift in rhythm pulled him instantly from sleep—Thora’s breathing pattern altered.

Artair’s eyes snapped open. Her amber gaze met his, clear and focused for the first time in days.

Relief crashed through him with such force that his vision blurred. He surged forward, pressing his forehead against hers in a gesture more intimate than any kiss. Her skin felt warm against his—blessedly, wonderfully warm.

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