The Elf And Shoemaker Read online

  "You've had a difficult day. I'm sorry for that." Hallan stroked his palm over Logan's head once more. "I can't make it go away, but I can at least get you to bed where you'll be more comfortable."

  He eased the stool out away from the table and carefully pulled Logan against him. Then Hallan rose and hefted him over his shoulder. It wasn't the most graceful way to carry him, but it would do the job and made Logan's sleep-heavy body more manageable. Logan didn't awaken, just moaned again, and Hallan shifted him slightly to get a better grip.

  He headed toward the stairs, which he knew, from watching and hearing Logan so many times tell his pet mouse goodnight and disappear in this direction, must lead to the bedroom. The stairwell was dark, as was the upstairs to which they climbed, but Hallan's eyesight was more acute than most beings and he had no trouble navigating. Dark was best anyway, in case Logan should stir and wake up. His warm weight was heavy against Hallan, forcing him to go slowly to keep his balance, but wasn't too much to bear. What was more difficult was concentrating on keeping his feet moving when all he found himself wanting to think about was the heat of the man's thighs beneath his hands. Even through the fabric of his pants--jeans he'd heard Logan call them--he could feel the warm flesh and hard sinew. And he was all too aware of the muscular curve of Logan's backside resting against his cheek.

  He reached the top of the stairs and spied the open doorway into what was clearly Logan's room--it looked lived in, comfortable, and smelled of his woodsy scent. With one hand, Hallan pulled back the covers on the wood bedstead, then lowered Logan onto the downy mattress and pillows. Trying not to think about how much he already missed the man's weight, he moved to the foot of the bed, tugged off Logan's boots, and pulled the covers up over him to stave off the chill that seeped in even up here.

  "That's better," Hallan said, keeping his voice low.

  Logan snuggled into the bedding with a heavy sigh. Then he frowned. "Don't want to lose my store," he whispered in his sleep, his voice gravelly from the wine and distress.

  Hallan crouched next to the low bed, his heart aching, and brushed the curls back off Logan's face. "I know. I'll help you."

  Logan's breathing halted, as if he were poised between the abyss of deep sleep and returning to alertness. "You will?" It was barely a whisper.

  "Yes." Hallan continue stroking his hair. "I've wanted to for so long. All you had to do was ask."

  Logan's fingertips moved over his forearm, cool yet causing a tingling heat where they touched. They slid up toward his wrist, his hand, and then his fingers curled around Hallan's.

  Hallan squeezed them, touched at the simple gesture of trust and intimacy.

  Such a thing would not have occurred so guilelessly in his world. In Lamerion humans were seldom seen except for the rare soul who dared to brave the long, treacherous crossing of the Onyx Sea and survived--most did not. And those rare few usually kept to themselves and didn't interact with the elves, knowing they weren't welcome. On the rare occasion they were seen, they were often looked down upon with cool disdain at best and outright animosity at worst. The current ruling regime had a particularly hate-filled stance on all ecthain--non elfkind, including humans--and saw elves as being above the rest of the "little" people of the world. It was something Hallan struggled against every day, being forced to live at the high court, because unlike most members of his race, he didn't subscribe to the elitist theory. He'd been raised to respect all souls. His mother had been a rare jewel with a kind heart, offering to share all she had with any who sought her aid or counsel. She found beauty in all beings and had taught Hallan to do the same.

  And to Hallan, Logan was one of the most beautiful beings he'd ever known.

  "Rest easy," he said. "I'll be back in a short while."

  "Stay..." It was more a sigh than a word, and Logan rolled onto his side, capturing Hallan's hand beneath his cheek.

  The entreaty surprised Hallan, but also tugged at something deep within him. "You don't even know me."

  Another soft sigh. "Stay."

  Torn over yearning to do exactly what Logan asked, to join him on the bed, hold the man close and stay, and the knowledge that he probably shouldn't risk being in this world for too long and he still had other things to do here, Hallan hesitated.

  "I want to," he whispered to Logan. More than you know. "But I came to help you."

  He eased his hand out from under Logan's cheek and rose, though it wasn't an easy task. He wanted to remain and savor the contact for as long as possible. He'd seen and heard for so long, but the inability to reach out and touch had been maddening. As he'd watched Logan's descent into despair over his store and his inability to pay for the things he needed, watched his smiles grow fewer, and worry blot out the twinkle in his warm brown eyes, Hallan had found himself standing rapt in front of the mirror, hands pressed against it, wanting with all desperation to reach out and console the man in any way he could. He'd felt in his own chest every pain Logan had experienced, and it had seemed that much the worse because Hallan couldn't do a damn thing about it. He'd hated feeling so helpless. Hated it even more that he knew Logan so well, but Logan didn't even know he existed.

  Will it truly be any better now, though?

  Hallan grimaced. Yes. And no. At least now he could touch Logan, could help in tangible ways that might make a difference, that might bring back the light in his eyes. And yet, because of the rules of the mirror...Logan could never be allowed to see him.

  That thought caused a lonely ache inside Hallan.

  "Be grateful you have this," he chastised himself. "It's more than you had before."

  With a sigh, he made his way back down the stairs to the room with which he'd become so familiar. Though he'd much rather be upstairs with Logan, here was where he could truly aid him.

  He studied the assortment of herbs and oils set out on the table, and remembered the words Logan had spoken before he'd taken out the supplies.

  "So, an aphrodisiac is it? Well then, let's make it a potion none can resist."

  He set to work, using some of what Logan had laid out, then sorting through the supply cabinet for other ingredients. He had stronger, more effective herbs in his stores back in Lamerion, but didn't dare risk trying to get them, for fear he might not make it back here tonight. Logan's supplies weren't bad, however. For tonight they would do, though the quantity was limited. When next he was able to return here, he'd bring some of his own with him.

  An hour later, Hallan sealed and labeled the final bottle of the potion and lined it up on the table with the others.

  "There. Let's see how humans react to this," he said with a satisfied smile.

  As potion master to the king, especially the current king, most of his work tended toward the political and practical--truth potions, potions to cloud the minds of enemies, to counteract poisons, or to allow soldiers to travel for days with little food, water, and sleep. It had been a long time since he'd been called upon to create something meant for pleasure. Which was a shame because to him, the fine art of potion making was meant for pleasure as much as, if not more than, its other uses.

  The mouse-creature poked its gray head out of a pile of shredded paper in its cage and looked at him.

  "Well, hello. Not much of a guard mouse, are you? You took your time coming to investigate me."

  The little animal studied him intently, but Hallan didn't mind. He held a finger to the cage to let it get his scent. "I understand your name is Zeus." He picked up a small bit of fruit that had fallen from the cage and offered it.

  The creature took it from him, stuffed it into its cheek, and scampered away.

  "You're welcome," Hallan said with a quiet laugh.

  But he sobered and his chest tightened as his thoughts once more turned to the man sleeping upstairs. There was one more thing he could do for Logan tonight.

  A few minutes later, he climbed the stairs again and entered Logan's bedroom. All was still dark, though a faint sliver of wintery moonlight sl
iced through the gap in the curtains. Hallan knew he should close it in case Logan awoke, but decided against it. The man was out and most likely would be until morning, and Hallan couldn't resist the opportunity to look at him a little longer before he had to leave.

  Logan still lay on his side, with one hand beneath his cheek and the other twisted in the covers. His breathing was stuttered, however, as if he weren't sleeping well. And, in fact, as Hallan watched, he moaned and turned onto his back.

  Hallan crouched next to the bed as he had earlier, but this time tucked a hand beneath Logan's neck and lifted his head partway. "Drink this," he said softly. "It'll help you sleep and take away much of the suffering in the morning." He held the small glass vial to the man's lips and tipped it up. It wasn't much, certainly not enough to worry Logan might choke in his sleep, just enough to slide over his tongue. "Swallow."

  Logan made a face in his sleep, but swallowed instinctively, then licked his lip where a drop had remained.

  Hallan set the vial on the bedside table and rested Logan's head back on the pillow, staring, transfixed, as the pale, barely-there slip of moonlight glinted off Logan's moist, full lower lip, making it shimmer.

  Everything inside him stilled, watching Logan's mouth captured in the moment, like a crystal from the mines of Galladin caught in sunlight for the first time. Hallan brushed his thumb over the warm, glistening surface, wanting...

  More.

  He squeezed his eyes closed as his heart surged back to life, and air once more began to flow through his lungs.

  He wanted more, but knew he could never have it. Had known it all along. He'd spent two years imagining what it might be like to be able to cross through the elf glass, join Logan here in this world, away from the threats and conspiracies in Lamerion that had long ago stolen his joy for life, and have something rich and full with him. To maybe share a life, a real life with him. It was nothing but a wishful dream, though, made impossible not only by the fact they came from two different worlds, but by the magick of the mirror. The rules were clear, and the consequences of violating them devastating. Being here in person with Logan only made the wanting more profound, though. And made the pain in knowing it couldn't happen that much worse.

  Hallan swallowed hard. "If only," he whispered.

  Be grateful for what you have.

  He was grateful. He truly was.

  But now, it was time to go. He leaned in, unable to resist, and pressed a kiss to the man's head, then rested his forehead against Logan's. Until we meet again.

  Unexpectedly, one of Logan's hands curled around the back of his head, causing Hallan's heart to stutter. And then, even more shocking, Logan's lips were there, tasting of wine, warm and damp, seeking, and finding, moving over his.

  Hallan barely dared to breathe and wasn't sure how to respond as Logan continued to press fluttering kisses on him, the contact light yet setting small fires of desire ablaze in him with each touch. He was torn between the aching urge to return the kisses--he'd spent months dreaming of this very thing--and the knowledge Logan was completely unaware of what he was doing and with whom he was doing it.

  But when Logan whispered, "Please," in a quiet, needy voice, Hallan was not made of stone. He'd wanted from afar for too long. And how could a few innocent kisses in the dark be harmful? He cupped Logan's cheek in his hand and kissed back.

  His capitulation, however, seemed to stir to life something much more urgent in Logan. Quickly evolving from innocent to purely erotic, the kisses grew more demanding, lasted longer, and though he knew he should stop it, Hallan couldn't do it. Each taste, each stroke of tongues, each nip of teeth, each soft moan only drew him farther into the dance until everything around them stopped and there was only the two of them in the dark, spinning.

  Logan wrenched his lips free and buried his face in Hallan's neck. "Please," he murmured again. His hand covered Hallan's and guided it beneath the covers to his groin.

  Hallan bit his lip and held back a moan of his own. Logan was hard as stone, his erection pressed tight against his jeans, and the heat radiating from it into Hallan's hand was immense. It took every ounce of his self-control not to tear open the fastenings of Logan's pants, free the hard length, and wrap his hand around it. He knew it would be hot and sleek, probably dripping with need, and twitching in anticipation. His own cock throbbed just thinking about it.

  "Logan," he groaned, fighting a battle within himself.

  "Please." Logan's mouth pressed hot and damp against his neck, trailing kisses along his jawline up to the sensitive spot below his ear. "God, please," he whispered. "Touch me. I want you to."

  Hallan wanted it, too. But things were moving so fast. The fact Logan wasn't fully present weighed on him...it made him feel like he was taking unfair advantage, seeking pleasure for his own selfish reasons when he wasn't sure how much of this Logan would even remember tomorrow. More than that, the nagging worry that he needed to leave was a pressure in his mind. He'd come here without a plan, without laying any groundwork to cover his absence. He'd probably already been gone longer than he ought.

  "You've had too much to drink. I..." He closed his eyes and fought back another moan as Logan's lips delved into that tender spot beneath his ear again. "I..."

  He forgot what he was trying to say as, with one hand, Logan opened his jeans, freed himself, and pressed Hallan's hand against hard, steamy, bare flesh. With the other hand, he teased his fingertips along the extremely sensitive curve of Hallan's ear. Hallan shivered with need. "Agh...Logan..."

  "Yes...yes," the man crooned, nuzzling his ear and pressing his groin into Hallan's palm, filling his hand with fullness and heat.

  Hallan was lost. He couldn't fight it. Didn't even want to. He turned his head and captured Logan's mouth again, kissing him long and deep, licking into him with such long-held-back passion he almost shocked himself at the intensity of it.

  Enough to shock Logan as well, apparently, because Hallan felt the exact moment the last, tenuous mask of sleep faded...and Logan returned to full awareness.

  Chapter 3

  * * *

  Hallan tore himself free, hoping he wasn't too late.

  "No," Logan begged, his voice hoarse. "Please, don't leave. Come back."

  But Hallan didn't respond as he lunged to the window and drew the curtains fully shut, then paused, waiting, hoping.

  When nothing happened, he sighed in ragged relief.

  Too close. He should have closed the curtains sooner. Everything could have been ripped away because of a glint of moonlight at the wrong moment.

  Shaken from the close call, he let his eyes adjust to the darkness, then returned to the bed where he felt Logan staring up at him. He sensed the man still floated on an alcoholic cloud, but the potion Hallan had given him had probably cleared some of the fog from his mind.

  "I'm dreaming this, aren't I?" Logan asked. "You're...you're one of the voices."

  Hallan sat on the edge of the bed, uncertain, trying to follow the man's thoughts. "Voices?"

  "Mrs. K said...in the dark..." His voice trailed off. "Never mind. Just kiss me again." His hand slid along Hallan's thigh, rubbing a path from knee to groin.

  Hallan closed his eyes and drew in a slow stuttered breath at the man's touch. "Are you sure that's what you want?" he said quietly, feeling like they were in new territory now, with Logan awake. "I'm a stranger to you." Though you aren't to me. Far from it.

  "You don't feel like a stranger."

  A flare of hope glimmered in him. "I don't?"

  "No." Logan reached up with both hands and pulled Hallan down until their lips were a breath apart. "You feel...right." He arched upward, closing the space between them, and found Hallan's mouth in the dark.

  Right. The word echoed in his mind over and over as Logan drew him back into the dance, forcing all his thoughts and worries away once more. Logan made it hard to remember anything except that all Hallan wanted was right here.

  Logan pushed off the covers the
rest of the way, then groped Hallan as if trying to determine what he was wearing. His seeking hand found Hallan's leather belt and began tugging at it, fumbling to unbuckle it. "Too many clothes," he rasped. "Off. Need them off. Yours. Mine. Everything."

  A flare of heat shot through Hallan at the thought of having Logan's nude body against his own. He helped Logan unfasten his belt, then stood and pulled off his over-tunic. But the man's questing fingers wouldn't be stayed. Logan rose to his knees on the bed, grasped the hem of Hallan's unlaced shirt and tugged it upward. Ducking his head, Hallan let him pull it off.

  "Much better," Logan sighed. His palms trailed over Hallan's shoulders and down his arms, then back up again. "So damn warm. Are you this warm all over?" His hands moved in a determined line to the waistband of Hallan's pants, found and released the buttons at his fly, and pushed the flaps aside, giving Hallan's aching organ its freedom. "Oh, yeah..." Logan fisted it and gave it an appreciative squeeze.

  Hallan's head tipped back, his eyes closed, and blissful pulses of heat coursed through him. His knees almost buckled in surprise when Logan's tongue lashed out and dragged over the crown of his cock in a slow, hot lick. He moaned, burying his fingers in the man's hair.

  "Mmmm...good. But you're still way too overdressed." He shoved at Hallan's pants, working them to his thighs, but grunting his frustration when he couldn't get them down any farther because he couldn't reach from his position. "Finish. Please. All the way off."

  Having no desire to argue, Hallan toed off his boots, and swept his pants down and away in a modicum of movement. Then he stood up straight, feeling the chilly night air slide over his skin and kiss his erection.

  "Your turn," he said, his voice husky with desire.

  He pressed Logan back onto the bed, slid between his spread legs, and pushed Logan's shirts upward, taking his time exploring the planes of Logan's upper body as he exposed each inch of skin. He licked over the lightly furred expanse of his abdomen and delved into his navel with swipes of his tongue that made Logan tremble. Then he traced each rib with his fingertips, followed by his lips. He circled his nipples in firm licks until Logan clutched at him and whimpered.