Page 21 of Bite for Sore Eyes

She's about to tell me something that changes everything, he realized. And I need to be ready for it.

The flames caught in the stone hearth and Torren adjusted the logs with practiced ease, though his bear prowled restlessly, sensing the gravity of the moment. When he finally turned from the fireplace, Lana had settled into the corner of the plush couch, her hiking boots discarded beside the coffee table and her legs tucked beneath her.

The firelight caught in her long black hair but something about her posture made his protective instincts spike. He crossed the room and settled beside her on the couch, close enough to catch her wildflower and citrus scent but far enough to give her space to speak.

"So about earlier today," Lana began, her voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of uncertainty. "When I dropped my sandwich and had trouble breathing for a minute, it wasn't because I was overwhelmed."

Torren's entire body went rigid. Every instinct he possessed screamed that his worst fears were about to be confirmed—that something was terribly, fundamentally wrong with his mate. His hands clenched against his thighs as he fought the urge to interrupt, to demand answers, to fix whatever was broken before she could finish explaining.

But Lana's brown eyes held a flicker of worry, as though she was bracing for his reaction, and Torren forced himself to remain silent. If there was one thing he excelled at, it was creating space for people to feel heard without pressure.

"It was caused by my illness."

The words hit him like a punch to the sternum, stealing the breath from his lungs. His bear roared in denial, rejecting the possibility that their perfect, brilliant, vibrant mate could be anything other than healthy and whole.

Lana continued, her voice growing stronger as she spoke. "I'm sick, Torren. I'm dying from a rare neurological disorder called progressive neural synchronization disorder. There's no cure and no effective treatment—at least not on Earth."

No. The word echoed through his mind. No, this isn't happening. Not to her. Not to us.

"I was diagnosed two years ago," she said, her gaze fixed on the fire rather than his face. "My dad and I explored every possible treatment, every specialty doctor. We even traveled out of the country to find answers. Some treatments helped for a while, but none of them stopped the gradual decline."

Torren's vision tunneled, focusing entirely on her profile as she spoke. The elegant line of her neck, the way her fingers twisted together in her lap, the careful control in her voice that spoke of someone who had delivered this news before and knew how devastating it was to hear.

"And two days ago, my doctor told me that within the next year, my brain will misfire so catastrophically that it will cause my body's autonomic functions to fail." Her voice cracked slightly on the last word. "And then I'll die."

Every Alpha instinct Torren possessed roared at him to stand up, to carry her to the medical facility immediately, to demand that their healers find a cure right now and refuse to rest until they did. His bear wanted to tear apart anything that threatened their mate, but how could he fight an enemy that lived inside her own body?

But something in her expression—a bone-deep exhaustion, a resignation that spoke of battles already fought and lost—told him that rushing toward solutions wasn't what she needed from him right now.

"What do you need from me?" he asked quietly. "How can I help?"

Relief flickered across her features, so brief he might have missed it if he hadn't been watching her so intently.

"I just need you to keep being you. Keep being that supportive, funny, perceptive guy I'm already falling for."

Despite everything—the devastating news, the fear clawing at his chest, the way his world had just tilted off its axis—Torren felt his lips curve into a smile. She was falling for him. This incredible woman who had just walked into their lives was already falling for him, just as he was falling for her.

"I can do that," he said simply.

"Good. Because I called Gerri Wilder last night wanting one final grand adventure," Lana continued, turning to face him fully now. "And when she matched me with you and Rath and told me you lived on Nova Aurora, I knew it was exactly the adventure I wanted before I die."

The casual way she said 'before I die' nearly broke him. This beautiful, brilliant woman who had teased them and linked her arms through theirs like she belonged there, was sitting here telling him she was going to leave them. Not by choice, but because her own body was betraying her.

Torren reached for her hands, covering them with his own larger ones. Her skin was warm and soft and so achingly alive that his bear couldn't reconcile the vitality he felt with the death sentence she'd just described.

"Lana, I promise you that I will give you the adventure of a lifetime," he said fiercely. "I will do everything I can to make each day the best day of your life."

Her smile was radiant, transforming her face and making his chest tight. "Thank you, Torren. That means more to me than you could ever imagine." She squeezed his hands. "I don't want to spend the rest of my days being a patient or being defined as the woman who needs saving. I want to stop merely surviving and hoping for a cure that may never come and just start embracing the life I have while I still have it."

"Then let's make sure you get exactly what you want," he said with absolute conviction.

The air between them suddenly crackled with electricity, the mate bond pulsing with an intensity that made his bear demand things it shouldn't at this moment. But as Lana's pupils dilated as she looked at him, her breathing growing shallow for reasons that had nothing to do with her illness, Torren was done fighting his bear.

"Well, I know I want you," she whispered.

Then she leaned in and kissed him. The kiss started soft and tentative—an invitation rather than a demand—and Torren accepted it like a man who had been starving for her since the moment they'd met. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her flush against the solid muscle of his chest, and she melted into him like she'd been made to fit there.

When he deepened the kiss, tracing the seam of her lips with his tongue, she opened her mouth willingly for him. For long minutes, their tongues tangled and her hands fisted in the fabric of his black henley, pulling him impossibly closer. His bear roared with triumphant joy.