Page 44 of Grin and Bear It

Artair nodded, no argument or posturing. In moments like this, she could almost appreciate his professionalism—recognizing her expertise and working with it rather than trying to dominate.

They separated, moving with silent efficiency. Thora slipped across rooftops, her sabertooth’s natural agility making her nearly invisible in the darkness. Below, she caught glimpses of Artair’s powerful form gliding through shadows with surprising grace for his size.

The thieves had bypassed the first layer of security and were working on the service door. Thora positioned herself on the ledge directly above, signaling Artair with a low whistle that mimicked a night bird.

He materialized from the darkness at the alley’s entrance, effectively cutting off their escape route. At the same moment, Thora dropped from above, landing silently behind the trio.

“Evening, gentlemen,” she said, her voice deceptively casual. “Bit late for window shopping.”

The thieves whirled, instantly on alert. The one with the dart gun swung toward Artair, finger tightening on the trigger. The other two produced conventional weapons—a knife and what appeared to be a magical stun baton.

What followed was a dance of violence and precision. Thora disarmed Knife-Man with a swift strike to his wrist, flowing around his retaliatory punch like water. She sensed rather than saw Artair engage the one with the stun baton, his movements powerful yet controlled.

The third thief—the one with the dart gun—kept trying to get a clear shot at Artair. Thora tracked his movements while handling her own opponent, an awareness of Artair’s position humming through her muscles as if they’d fought together for years.

Her sabertooth reveled in the partnership, their shared hunting instincts creating a deadly harmony. When Artair ducked, she was already moving to strike the space he vacated. When she spun to avoid a blow, he was there to catch her opponent off guard.

Knife-Man crumpled to the ground after a precise strike to his solar plexus. Thora pivoted immediately, scanning for the dart-wielder. She spotted him taking aim at Artair’s unprotected back while the bear shifter grappled with the stun baton opponent.

Without conscious thought, Thora lunged. The dart meant for Artair’s spine embedded itself in her side instead. Pain lanced through her body, burning like liquid fire in her veins.

The shooter stared at her in shock. “She moves like a Tiikeri!”

FORTY-ONE

The name sent an odd jolt through Thora, but she had no time to dwell on it. She closed the distance between them in two swift strides and knocked him unconscious with a precise blow to the temple.

All three attackers subdued, she turned to find Artair securing his opponent with zip ties. His gaze locked on the dart protruding from her abdomen, alarm flashing across his features.

“You’re hit.”

“I noticed.” Thora gritted her teeth, reaching to extract the dart. The burning sensation intensified, spreading outward from the wound. Her sabertooth metabolism fought the poison, but she could tell it was potent.

Artair was at her side in an instant. “Don’t remove it yet. We need to neutralize the bear bane first.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, though black spots danced at the edges of her vision. “My system can handle it.”

“Bear bane is specifically formulated to shut down shifter healing abilities.” His voice grew sharper with concern, large hands gently examining the wound around the dart. “Even for non-bears, it’s dangerous.”

Thora took a step forward and immediately regretted it as the world tilted sideways. Strong arms caught her before she hit the ground.

“Put me down,” she protested as Artair lifted her effortlessly against his chest. “I can walk.”

“Not with bear bane in your system.” His voice rumbled through his chest, vibrating against her cheek. “You took a dart meant for me.”

Despite her annoyance, Thora’s sabertooth purred at being carried, at the steady strength of his arms around her. His heart thundered against her ear, his scent enveloping her—woodsy and warm with that hint of honey that made her want to burrow closer.

The realization horrified her, but her body betrayed her, curling instinctively toward his warmth.

“My apartment’s two blocks south,” she managed, trying to focus as her vision blurred further.

“My cabin is closer,” Artair countered. “And I have the bear clan remedies. Which you need, and your apartment doesn’t have.”

She wanted to argue, to insist on independence, but the poison burned through her veins with increasing intensity. Her sabertooth, normally prideful about self-reliance, urged her to accept his help.

“Fine,” she conceded grudgingly. “But this doesn’t mean?—”

“That we’re partners. I know.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice despite the tense situation.

---