Page 18 of Grin and Bear It

Kalyna uncorked a bottle of iridescent liquid and poured it in a circle around them, murmuring words in a language Thora didn’t recognize. The shop’s ambient sounds—the ticking of mismatched clocks, the gentle bubbling of potions—faded as the spell took effect. The fox shifter then held a green crystal between them, directly in the tether’s path.

“On the count of three, both jump backward. One... two... three!”

They leaped in opposite directions. For a split second, Thora thought it worked—then a blast of magical energy surged through the tether, shooting up through her arm and into her scalp. Her hair stood on end, crackling with static electricity. Across from her, Artair’s normally immaculate dark hair had transformed into a wild, electrified mane.

NINETEEN

Thora couldn’t help herself—a snort of laughter escaped at the sight of the dignified CEO with his hair standing straight up.

Artair’s eyes narrowed, but to her surprise, a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “I’m sure it looks better on me than it does on you.”

Thora caught her reflection in a nearby mirror—her dark hair formed a halo of spikes around her head, giving her the appearance of an affronted cat. “I don’t know,” she drawled, “I think I’m rocking this look.”

Their eyes met again, shared humor momentarily bridging the tension between them. The tether pulsed, brightening as their mutual attraction flared in response to the unexpected moment of connection.

“Interesting reaction,” Kalyna noted, writing in a small notebook. Her eyes darted between them, noting the brightened tether with obvious fascination. “Let’s try the Voice Vibration Technique next.”

This involved drinking a potion that tasted like licorice mixed with motor oil, then shouting specific syllables at each other. Theresult: for approximately thirty seconds, they spoke with each other’s voices.

“This is ridiculous,” Thora said in Artair’s deep baritone, the rumbling timbre sending strange vibrations through her chest.

“Your methods seem highly questionable,” Artair replied in her contralto, the absurdity of her higher voice emerging from his broad-chested frame causing Thora’s lips to twitch again.

Her sabertooth, meanwhile, continued to purr.His cubs will have our voice. Strong bloodline.

Stop that,Thora commanded internally.There will be no cubs. No bloodline. No anything.

But her body disagreed, responding with unmistakable warmth to Artair’s presence. Even their shared aggravation created a strange intimacy—a bubble of mutual experience that excluded everyone else. She caught his eye again, noting how the gold flecks brightened when he looked at her directly.

Kalyna appeared unfazed by the failure. “Third time’s the charm! The Synchronized Severance!”

This attempt involved standing back-to-back while Kalyna waved the taxidermied crow over the tether, sprinkling it with what looked suspiciously like glitter. The contact of Thora’s back against Artair’s sent a jolt of awareness through her entire body. She could feel his heat through his suit jacket, the solid strength of muscles beneath expensive fabric. Her sabertooth stretched toward that heat like a cat seeking the sun.

A flash of pink light enveloped them both.

When it cleared, Thora tried to step away—only to find her movements precisely mirrored by Artair. Each step, each arm movement, each turn of the head occurred in perfect synchronization.

“Oops,” Kalyna said, not sounding particularly sorry. “Side effect. You’ll be synchronized for about fifteen minutes. On the bright side, the tether seems slightly less luminous now?”

It wasn’t. If anything, it glowed brighter than before, pulsating with what Thora could only describe as smug satisfaction.

“No more experiments,” Artair stated firmly, his body moving in exact coordination with Thora’s. “We’ll wait it out.”

“Are you sure? I have at least seven more methods we could?—”

“No,” they said together, then glared at each other for the, once again, unintentional unison.

Kalyna shrugged, her eyes twinkling with mirth barely disguised as professional interest. “Your choice. The synchronization should wear off shortly. And if you change your minds, my door is always open!” She paused. “Well, except Tuesdays and Thursdays. That’s my library days.”

Leaving the shop proved more challenging than entering it. With their movements synchronized, they bumped into displays, knocked over a stack of books, and nearly toppled a shelf of potions before managing to coordinate their steps enough to reach the door.

The synchronized movements forced a physical awareness of each other that Thora found increasingly difficult to ignore. Each step required attention to the other’s rhythm, creating an unwilling dance between them. Worse, she could scent Artair’s growing frustration—but beneath it, a deepening note of arousal that her sabertooth responded to with enthusiasm.

See? He wants us too. Good. Strong mate.

Outside, a small crowd had gathered—news of their predicament spreading through town with supernatural speed. At the forefront stood Agatha Plumthorn, her notebook at the ready and an expression of unrestrained delight on her face.

“There they are!” she exclaimed. “How does it feel to be magically bound to our town’s most eligible bachelor?” sheasked Thora. Again. “Any comment on the nature of your connection? Physical? Emotional? Prophesied?”

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