Reindeer Games (6 page)

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them. When heated with sugar and a touch of peppermint, it was a feast for the

taste buds. Lon couldn’t help but close his eyes and savor it.

“You may have more, if you like,” a seductive voice assured him.

He opened his eyes, belatedly realizing he’d finished more than half of the

liquid in the mug he cradled at his lips. “No. Thank you.” Aware that his voice had

dropped a half octave, he lowered the mug to his knees, primly held closed before

him despite the protrusion in his pants. “It’s wonderful, though.”

“Thank you. It’s my own recipe.”

“Really?” Lon stole a glance at Wod, who hadn’t moved from his sexy sprawl.

“You mulled this yourself?”

Wod raised his mug to the light, watching the light prism through the heavy

glass. “My mother is a cook. I grew up in the kitchens.” He brought the mug back

down to balance it on one side of his chest. “We both did.”

“We?”

Wod’s grin widened. “Rom. And me. His mother was a cook too.”

“Oh!” Lon found himself smiling, delighted to know such a thing. “That’s nice.

Both of my parents worked in the warehouses.”

“You did as well, didn’t you?”

Lon found his glass back at his lips but paused to glance at Wod. “How did you

know that?”

Wod shrugged. “I heard.”

“Oh.” Lon sipped the lovely wine and sat back a little on the couch. Plush and

soft. Dark, just like almost everything else in Wod’s cottage, or at least this room.

Only the walls were light, pale gold pine to offset the dusky colors of the

furnishings. “It’s true. I worked in warehouse eleven for a few years before I became

a handler.”

“Why the change?”

“Why? Because of Rom.”

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Jet Mykles

“Oh, yes. Of course.”

Lon grinned, basking in the fragrance and heat from his mug. What was
in

this? “He came to the warehouse with Santa once. I’m not sure why. But he was

so…beautiful. I’d only seen reindeer from afar.”

“I’ve heard we have that affect sometimes.”

Lon nodded. “You’re all so very beautiful.”

Wod propped an elbow on the couch’s arm so he could lean his temple on his

fist. “Even the women?”

Lon kept nodding, eyeing a clear sculpture on the table behind Wod. “All of

you. Perfect.” The piece was tall and slim, a deer made of glass just before a mighty

leap. Not a reindeer. It was far too long and slim for that, although the sweeping

antlers were similar. The smooth glass caught the firelight and spilled it back on

the wall in a splash of ruddy gold.

“But you’re attracted to men, aren’t you, Lon?”

“Mmm. Yes.” Lon’s body swayed because his head still nodded. It was a

pleasant rocking sensation to go with the hypnotic buzz that ran through his veins.

Wod sat up, blocking Lon’s view of the sculpture. Lon blinked as Wod’s face

came in focus. He resembled the leaping stag in a way that Lon couldn’t quite

fathom. “Let me take that.”

Lon glanced down as Wod took the empty mug from his fingers. When had he

finished his drink?

“Would you like more?” Wod’s voice was so close to his ear, breath tickling its

tip.

Lon lifted his face and found his lips just inches from Wod’s. He stared at the

end of Wod’s nose, and it made him dizzy. Swaying back, he closed his eyes and

shook his head. “I’d better not.” He lifted a hand to run fingers over his own lips.

Warm. Soft. “That’s strong wine.”

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33

“Yes. I’m afraid it is.” Wod left the couch to return the mugs to the side table.

Lon admired the roll of his ass, so perfect and trim underneath his broad, bare back.

Quite a lot like Rom’s except the skin was darker. It must go with being a reindeer.

“So”—Wod turned, and Lon dropped his gaze—“if you admire us all, why Rom?”

Lon sat forward on the couch again, squeezing his knees with his hands,

fighting the wine’s pleasant effects. “Why? Because…because he’s nice.”

Wod snorted. He stepped into a small kitchen area. Only a handful of cottages

in Santa’s Village had true kitchens, since the elves all got their food from the food

hall, but most cottages and cabins had a sink, a refrigerator, and a small oven for

reheating meals.

“He is,” Lon protested, watching Wod take a fresh glass out of a cabinet. “He

listened to all of us gush over him and wasn’t rude at all. He answered all of our

questions. He was the one who suggested I should become a handler.”

“Did he?” Wod started back toward Lon, a glass of water in his hand.

Lon stretched out his hand for it before Wod even reached him. “Thank you.

And yes, he did.”

“Why you, specifically?”

Lon gulped down half the glass, then took a deep breath. The cool, fresh liquid

was good, but his head still buzzed, and the edges of things were a little blurry.

Strong wine indeed. “One of my jobs was to strap in crates. I was working with

some of the straps when Rom came that day.”

Wod nodded understanding as he resumed his seat in the corner of the couch.

“So you took his advice.”

“Yes.”

“Do you like being a handler?”

Lon’s head shot up. “I love it.” He blinked and swayed back. “Whoa.”

Wod’s hand spanned his back, steadying him. “You all right?”

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Jet Mykles

Lon took a deep breath, swallowed the rest of the water, then took another

breath. Things were still fuzzy, but the spinning slowed. “Yes.”

“I didn’t realize you were that sensitive. There was brandy in the wine.”

Lon shook his head. “Wow. Really?” It felt good but also kind of scary, like he

wasn’t fully in charge of his limbs, and his eyelids kept drifting shut. “I’ve never had

spirits before.”

Wod grimaced. “Sorry about that. More water?”

“No, thank you.” Lon carefully set the glass on the floor by his foot, since there

was no table in front of the couch. Wod’s hand on his back felt good. Something

steady while the room was weaving.

“So, you’ve been a handler all season.” Wod’s voice was so deep, soothing but

exciting. “Why haven’t you confessed to him before this?”

Lon placed his hands on his knees and squeezed.

“It can’t have escaped your notice that Rom’s
very
friendly.”

Lon nodded, letting his hair fall down to shield his face from Wod. “I know.”

“Don’t you want to get close to him?”

“Yes.”

Their knees bumped as Wod shifted closer. “Getting him to fuck you wouldn’t

be at all hard.” Gentle fingers hooked Lon’s hair behind his ear, revealing his face.

“You’re certainly cute enough.”

Startled, Lon glanced at Wod. He fought that fuzzy feeling from the wine. “You

think so?”

Wod’s smile could have melted a glacier. The hand near Lon’s face shifted to

brush fingers down his cheek. “Oh yes.” Fingertips traced Lon’s bottom lip, and Wod

watched them like a hungry cat. “In fact, if you’d let me, I’d love to fuck you right

now.”

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35

“No. Thank you.” Lon shied away to hug the far arm of the couch. Was it warm

in here? The empty glass tumbled to its side on the rug and rolled away from his

feet. “But I don’t just want…that. I want…more.”

Wod stayed where he was, leaning on an elbow braced on his knee. “More?”

“Yes.”

The bigger man cocked his head, one brow rising in query. “With Rom?”

Lon frowned, hearing the echo of Bok’s reaction. “Why is that so strange?”

Wod sighed and shrugged. “It’s not very Rom. He’s barely ever been with

anyone twice, let alone exclusively.”

“Ever?”

Wod shook his head.

Lon’s heart fell. It was one thing when Bok, who didn’t know Rom, said it was

hopeless. It was another thing entirely when Rom’s best friend said it. Flashes of

Rom with Tym in the hot tub, then Rom with any number of others Lon had seen

him with throughout the season, paraded through his memory. Depressing. He’d

known Rom was sleeping around, but he’d thought that would somehow stop when

he confessed. How stupid. How very stupid of him. Embarrassed and dejected, he

dropped his chin to his chest and started to push to his feet. “I should go.”

A strong hand shot out and took hold of his wrist to keep him seated. “Wait.”

Lon shook his head, mortified to realize that his eyes were full of burgeoning

tears. “No. You’ve been very nice to me.” He twisted his arm but couldn’t free

himself from Wod’s grip. “I…I need to go.”

“Just wait.” Wod held until Lon stopped twisting. “You’re in no shape to go

anywhere.”

“What?”

What was that look? Resignation? “You’re drunk. You’ll probably fall down if

you even try and stand.”

An odd need to defend himself burbled in Lon’s chest. “I won’t.”

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Jet Mykles

“Yes. You will. And it’s my fault. You need to sleep it off.”

“What?” Lon’s eyes flew wide open. “Here?”

Wod rolled his eyes. “I swear your virtue is safe.”

“My vir—Oh no.” He yanked another way and managed to get out from under

Wod’s hand, even if he still couldn’t free his wrist. “I need to go.”

“Lon—”

“No, I… Whoa.” On his feet, then…not? The entire room tilted, but the

furniture stayed where it was, an absurd defiance of gravity, in Lon’s muddled

opinion. He lifted a foot and set it down on something hard…mobile…rolling. The

glass. “Yipe!” More spinning around the only thing that was steady—Wod’s hand.

Lon veered, then fell through liquid space. He reached out, grasped and found Wod’s

neck. Wod’s neck? Where was the ground? Christmas, what…? “Are you carrying

me?”

“Yes.”

Yes. Two strong arms. He could feel them underneath his bent knees and his

back. “No. Put me down.”

“No.”

Darkness. Cooler air. The fire was in another room. “Wait.”

“Shhh.”

Soft. Warm pine and wool. A mattress in the dark. “Wod, wait.”

“Shhh.” Big hands pulled off Lon’s shoes.

“Wod.” Why wouldn’t the world right itself? It was so dark. “A light.”

“Don’t need it for sleep.”

“Sleep.” As though the words were a cue, Lon felt his muscles respond to the

mattress that supported him. Despite the panic in the forefront of his mind, the rest

of him felt remarkably calm. Safe. “No.” He yawned.

“You’ll feel better after you’ve slept.”

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37

“But…”

A warm palm smoothed over his forehead. “Sleep, Lon.”

“What…?” Drunk or no, Lon recognized a sleep nudge when he felt it. A minor

spell that just about everyone knew.

Unprepared to resist, Lon went out like a light.

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Jet Mykles

Chapter Six

Lon woke up. Sat up. The big, human-size bed was draped in midnight blue

sheets with a matching comforter, and he was right in the middle of it. The morning

sun shone through the slats of shutters to Lon’s left, and his jacket was draped over

a chair by the closed door to his right. One door of a big armoire was ajar to provide

a peek of hanging clothes and neatly arranged shoes. A deep rust silk robe hung on

the corner of the armoire. A door beside it led to a bathroom beyond.

He was alone.

Where was Wod? Better yet, what had he done with Wod that he couldn’t

remember?

Frantic, Lon lifted the sheets, relieved to see that he still wore his pants and

undershirt. His socks were gone, but a peek over the edge of the bed showed them

neatly tucked into his shoes.

Back to: where was Wod?

Cautiously Lon climbed out of the bed—literally, since the bed stood as tall as

his waist—and scurried into the narrow, pine-scented bathroom. He used the

facilities, rinsed his mouth with a peppermint wash, and finger combed his hair, for

once happy to have no curls. He didn’t
look
debauched, and he felt remarkably

clear-headed, given that he’d been drunk the night before. Wod wouldn’t have taken

advantage of that, would he? Lon didn’t feel like he’d done anything with Wod that

he didn’t remember, but details were a little fuzzy around the edges. He

remembered most of his conversation with Wod, he thought, and he vividly recalled

having seen Rom in the hot tub with Tym. Naked and wet, fucking Tym from

behind. So strong, so gorgeous, so unbelievably sexy. Lon even remembered the

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39

sparkle of water on Rom’s pale skin in the moonlight. Overcome, Lon gripped the

rounded edge of the porcelain sink and waited for a wave of desire to release him.

“
He’s barely ever been with anyone twice
.” He remembered Wod saying that too.

A sense of loss drained the lust, and he lifted his face to stare at his dumbstruck

reflection. What now? Was he fooling himself about Rom? Even if he got the other

man’s attention, would it be everything Lon imagined? Could it be anything close to

what he imagined? Or would he get, at most, one night of bliss, followed by a