Page 41 of Grin and Bear It (Enchanted Falls #2)

FORTY-ONE

T he 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.

As Artair carried her through the darkened streets, Thora fought to stay conscious. The bear bane worked through her system in waves of burning pain, each one making it harder to focus. She found herself studying the strong line of his jaw, the determined set of his mouth, the protective intensity in his eyes.

This close, she could see flecks of gold in his dark irises—his bear nature bleeding through as his protective instincts surged. A lock of dark hair fell across his forehead, and she had to fight the bizarre urge to brush it back.

“Stay with me,” Artair murmured when her eyelids drooped. “We’re almost there.”

“Not going anywhere,” she slurred. “Too comfy.”

His steps faltered for a moment before resuming. Had she said that out loud? The bear bane must be affecting her more than she thought.

The next few minutes blurred together—the warmth of his arms, the soft click of a door opening, gentle hands laying her on something plush and comfortable. Voices murmured around her, but she couldn’t focus enough to make out the words.

“The poison was specifically crafted for bear shifters,” a gentle female voice said nearby. “But it’s still affecting her feline system.”

“Her metabolism is fighting it remarkably well,” another woman’s voice added—Kalyna, Thora recognized dimly. “Better than any non-bear I’ve seen exposed to bear bane.”

A cool cloth pressed against her forehead, drawing her closer to consciousness. Thora forced her heavy eyelids open. Blurred shapes resolved into a spacious, minimalist living room with floor-to-ceiling windows. Kneeling beside her was a white-haired elderly woman with kind, perceptive eyes. Kalyna hovered nearby, grinding something in a mortar and pestle, while Jash stood at a sleek computer terminal, typing rapidly.

Her sabertooth’s senses registered Artair before she saw him—his scent, his footsteps as he paced anxiously near the windows.

“Our patient returns!” the elderly woman announced with gentle authority. “I’m Willow. Town healer and herbalist.”

“Good thing your boyfriend called us immediately,” Kalyna added with a mischievous glint in her eye. “That poison was specifically crafted for bear shifters, but it’s still nasty business for other predator types.”