The Elf And Shoemaker

by M. L. Rhodes

  "Thanks, but...I'm good. Really."

  "Aw, come on. Let me buy you a drink on this snowy night. You can tell me all about it. Then we can go to my place. I've got a big fireplace. A sheepskin rug. We can see where it goes from there."

  Holy crap. The guy was totally hitting on him.

  And then a thought struck Logan. The PASSION oil. Robert had obviously taken a sniff of it before Logan had noticed him standing there. That could be the only possible reason he'd be coming on so strong to Logan.

  But when he looked next to the register, the remaining bottle still sat in the same spot it had been earlier. It didn't look like it had been touched.

  What the...

  "Did you, um, open that bottle by any chance?" Logan asked.

  Robert's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "What?"

  "That little bottle of oil, right there." Logan pointed. "Did you open it?"

  Robert spied it, then looked back up at Logan with the same slightly confused expression on his face. "No. Should I have?"

  "Oh. Uh...no. No." Oh, my God. He's actually hitting on me for real? It had been so damned long since anyone had in a situation like this that Logan wasn't sure whether to be shocked or thrilled.

  Robert arched a brow. "You sure you're okay? You'd better let me buy you that drink."

  "No," Logan said a little too loudly. Heat crept up his cheeks again. "No. I mean, thanks, but drinks and I...we don't get along too well."

  "Hey, that's cool," Robert said, holding up his hands. Then he smiled again, that thousand-watter that would have the gay men on the Internet lining up in droves. "How about dinner then? No pressure for anything else. Just dinner and a chance to talk. The truth is, I've been in here several times and I like you. I'd like to get to know you better."

  Logan looked into Robert's sexy but completely sincere gaze, a gaze that he should have been falling all over himself to bask in because, my God, let's face it, this man was a catch. And instead, all he could think of was how Hallan had somehow gotten him to bed when he was passed out drunk, how he'd made a potion to make him feel better, how tender his kisses were, and how his whispered, "I love you, Logan," made Logan's chest tight and achy.

  "You're a really great guy... Robert, right? And I appreciate the offer, I do." Logan gave him an apologetic smile. "But... there's someone else."

  "The guy who leaves you sleeping?"

  "Yeah. But..." A soft chuckle escaped Logan. "He's not what you might think."

  Robert's smile was disappointed, but genuine. "Well, I had to ask, but I do understand. If he ever breaks your heart, though..."

  "If he ever breaks my heart, I think I'll probably kick his ass," Logan said with a grin, remembering saying something similar to Hallan.

  Robert's laugher was rich and low, like fine whiskey. "I'm sure you will. So what's in the bottle you were asking me about?" He picked up the potion and studied the tag. "Passion? Hmm..." He started to open it but Logan set a hand on top of his.

  "Trust me, you don't need to spend your money on this. You've already got this naturally."

  Robert flashed him another smile. Damn, did the man ever not smile? "Is that a compliment?"

  "You already know it is. And I'm serious."

  Much to Logan's surprise, Robert sobered and Logan saw a hint of loneliness in his gaze. "I appreciate your faith in me more than you know. But the truth is, when you reach a certain age, it just isn't as easy as it used to be." He set the bottle of oil on the counter in front of Logan, pulled out his wallet, and handed him a Platinum Visa.

  "Do you want to open it first so you know what you're getting?" Logan asked.

  "Does it work?"

  "Oh, yeah. It works."

  "Then that's all I need to know. I trust you."

  A smile quirked at Logan's lips. "You're an interesting man, Robert. Some lucky guy doesn't yet know what he's missing. But I suspect he's going to find out real soon."

  "And you, I might add, are equally interesting...trying to talk me out of buying what I'm guessing is a pricey item. I don't know many people with that kind of honesty."

  They shared a companionable grin, and a few minutes later Logan sent him off on his way into the snowy night.

  As he locked the door behind Robert and turned the sign from Open to Closed, it hit Logan what he'd done. A genuinely nice, sexy man, someone he could see himself being friends with and who'd probably make one hell of a boyfriend, had asked him out. And he'd turned him down. Two days ago he would have gone out with Robert in a second.

  But now...all he wanted, with such ferocity it was hard to breathe, was the one man who wasn't here. Hallan.

  Chapter 6

  * * *

  Six days.

  Six long, miserable, lonely days since Hallan had come back from Logan's world. Six days where the damned king had kept him too busy and too well guarded for him to slip away for even a few minutes on his own to see if the mirror would still work, much less be able to catch a glimpse of Logan.

  The fact he hadn't answered the door to take his dinner tray the night he'd been gone had been reported to the king. It was why the king had summoned him the next morning, to endlessly interrogate him on where he was that he couldn't eat dinner. Hallan had waved the whole thing off with the explanation that he'd been busy working in his rooms and wasn't hungry. He'd stuck to the story no matter how many times King Zolodan had asked, cajoled, and threatened. Though he didn't say as much, it was obvious the king believed Hallan had snuck out of Anseal and gone to aid his "treacherous" nephew's rebellion. Normally, if Zolodan wanted to test the veracity of someone's story, he simply called on Hallan to give them a truth potion and all would be revealed. But the laws of magick made it so that Hallan's potions, created from his magick, couldn't be used against him--the magick negated itself. Which left Zolodan in the dark as to whether or not Hallan's tale was legitimate.

  Since he couldn't be sure, for the past six days he'd kept Hallan close at hand, claiming he needed his loyal potion master ready and available during these difficult times. He'd even dragged Hallan with him on an urgent trip to Rorath Nithindural, the hall of the mountain elves, an exhausting two-day ride each way. And the couple of nights they'd spent here at Anseal, he'd forced Hallan to sleep in one of the anterooms of the king's chamber in case he was "needed."

  Finally, this evening, desperate to escape for even a while, Hallan had secretly downed a potion to make himself ill. The king, less than pleased but unable to refute the argument that Hallan needed to have access to his vast herbal supplies in order to make a remedy for his ailment and then needed to get a good night's sleep to recover, had allowed him to return to his own chambers. But the king had posted a guard in the hall outside his door who'd watched him like a hawk as he'd entered.

  Hallan's rooms were high up in one of the towers, so he was banking on the guard having at least semi-reasonable intellect and assuming that once he'd gone in, there'd be no way for him to leave without coming back out the door being watched, which would then buy Hallan several hours of uninterrupted time. He hoped.

  The moment he'd entered his rooms, he'd locked the door behind him and swallowed the counter potion to negate the effects of the first that had left his insides writhing and heaving. The remedy worked almost immediately, thank goodness. He shuddered. It had been a wretched thing to do to himself, but it had been worth it since it had gained him some precious freedom.

  He set to work preparing the items he would carry with him to Logan's world. The one advantage of the six day wait was that it had given him plenty of time to think and plan.

  But as he put his supplies into a leather travel bag and slung it over his shoulder, he couldn't shake the fear that his freedoms here might soon well be gone altogether. After these past few days in such interminable close quarters with the king, Hallan had begun to wonder if perhaps the king's obsession with him might be about more than just the fact he was his mother's son. Along with questions concerning his whereabou
ts the night he was gone, the king had also not so subtly questioned Hallan on his father as well...questions Hallan couldn't, in all honesty, answer since he'd never known his father. More specifically, he'd never even known who he was. When he was a child and had asked, his mother had refused to tell him, saying it was best that way and he was never to discuss it with anyone. She'd never relented. It was the only time she'd refused to be honest with him about anything. Which had fueled a growing suspicion in him over the years.

  A suspicion he was afraid King Zolodan might also come to share. If that were the case and the king's paranoia grew any worse, Hallan knew his life here, such as it was, could alter drastically at Zolodan's whim.

  And then his link to Logan would be gone.

  Taking a deep breath and fighting a new churning in his stomach, this one from knotted nerves, he swept a hand around the elf glass, making it visible, then watched as the fog lifted and Logan's kitchen came into view. He'd hoped his timing was such that Logan would be in bed asleep and therefore there'd be little risk of Hallan being seen as he came through the mirror. The kitchen was dark, which meant it was definitely nighttime there.

  Muttering a quiet prayer that the elf glass would allow him through again, Hallan's hands closed around the silver frame and pulled. As the frame began to move, stretching beneath his touch, such profound relief swept through him he was almost dizzy from it.

  "Thank you," he murmured.

  He entered the dark kitchen and immediately noted it was much colder than it had been last time. A gust of wind hit the house, rattling the kitchen window and slapping tree branches against it. Hallan set his leather pouch on the table and crossed to the icy panes, where he peered out into the darkness. He saw no lights anywhere. His keen sight, however, could make out the thick clouds of snow blowing and swirling outside. The fine crystals pummeled the glass, and a draft of breath-stealing air seeped in around the frame.

  No wonder the house was freezing. He wondered again why Logan didn't keep a fire going for heat.

  Not wanting to be away from him another minute, Hallan dug into the bag, pulled out two small vials, and climbed the stairs to Logan's room. He approached the bed on silent feet, able to make out the shape of a roughly human-sized lump completely buried under the covers. He sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to stroke a hand over what he thought was Logan's head. When the lump moved and he heard a soft snore, a smile curved his lips.

  After six long days away, it felt like he'd finally come home.

  And it was time to tell Logan everything. He couldn't bear for Logan to think he was just a dream as he had the last time. But he needed him to know the truth of their situation. He'd had over two years to get to know Logan, to hear him, see him, and during that time had fallen so deeply in love with him he was forever altered by it. Logan had never had the same chance to know him. He deserved an opportunity to see and learn for himself and make a choice about whether or not he wanted to continue what they'd started during Hallan's first visit. And if they did continue it, the realities of what they faced.

  Time wasn't on Hallan's side tonight, but he intended to make the best of what he had.

  * * * *

  "Logan."

  The sexy masculine voice crept into Logan's dream and stirred a warm longing inside him. It was familiar, achingly so...and a part of him wanted to snuggle it up against him and fall back into an even more sound sleep with its low, lilting pitch wrapping around him like a comforting blanket, while the other part of him wanted to pull it close and spread his legs, and invite its velvet heat into him at his core with slow, tight, squeezing seduction.

  "Logan...come back to me."

  Now it sounded humored, on the verge of a smile, and so damned sensual and captivating he felt himself giving up the warm cocoon of sleep just to hear it again.

  And then he was opening his eyes to darkness and cold...and a hard, warm body sitting next to him on the bed that made everything else irrelevant.

  "Oh, God..." Logan scrambled to sit up, his heart pounding. "Is it...is it really you?"

  "It's really me."

  In spite of the utter darkness, his hands instinctively found the face of the man he'd been unable to forget for even a second, cradled his cheeks, and pulled him into a kiss filled with such desperate longing Logan wasn't even sure where he'd been keeping it all bottled up. One of Hallan's hands rose to the back of his head, angling their mouths for a closer fit, and Logan leaned into him, soaking up his heat, his presence.

  When he finally had to pause for air, their lips parted but didn't go far and Logan rested his forehead against Hallan's, let his hands roam, found the gentle curve of pointed ears and received a trembling groan in response. "You're really here. And I'm not dreaming. You're real and you're here."

  "I'm here."

  "I missed you. And I need to know why."

  "Why?"

  Logan kissed him, feeling his breath warm against his mouth. "Why I missed you so damned much when I barely even know you. Why every time I've closed my eyes I could feel your hands on me, and your kisses, and hear your voice whispering in my ear. Why the idea of you being an elf no longer seems like some crazy fantastical tale, it just feels right and good. And why I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, or wanting you."

  "You haven't?" came a surprised, emotional-sounding sort of moan.

  "No, I haven't." Logan sat up and pushed the covers away even though it was freezing in the room. The power had gone out right before bedtime and the temperature in the house had plummeted, but Logan barely noticed. He needed to be closer. He swung his leg over Hallan and straddled his lap, facing him, sinking onto long legs, then cradling his face again for another series of kisses.

  Strong fingers curled into his hips, his ass, pulling him closer until the ridge of an obvious erection dug into the crease between his cheeks through the heavy sweat pants he wore.

  He groaned. "Hallan...God, these past two days have seemed forever long..."

  A slow deep breath, and then Hallan was leaning back, stroking his palm over Logan's cheek. "It's been six for me."

  "Six? What do you mean?"

  "For me it's been six days since I left you."

  "How...how is that possible?"

  "Time passes differently here than in my world. Two days for you, six for me. I wanted to come sooner, but this was the first time I was able to be alone and get away."

  "Tell me." Logan skimmed his mouth with his, wanting to push Hallan down into the covers and lose himself in the elf's heat, his taste, and feel his hard, lean body over him, in him again. But wanting, even more, to know who he was inside, how he'd come to be here, and why he had such pull over Logan. How he'd managed so quickly to break down all Logan's barriers to everything he'd considered real and true, and not only open him to astonishing possibilities, also open his heart and burrow deep inside.

  "I'll tell you anything you want to know. We need to talk."

  His voice had lowered, and the serious tone caused Logan's chest to tighten in a moment of panic.

  "Is everything okay? You...you don't have to leave this time do you?"

  A hand gentled his cheek, the thumb brushing over his lips. "It's complicated." That word again. "I'll explain everything."

  Oh, God...why didn't that sound good? The chill of the room suddenly ate into Logan and he shivered.

  "You're cold. Here." He heard and felt Hallan pulling the heavy blankets and down comforter back, then he turned as if he were going to lay Logan on the bed.

  "No. No, I want to see you, need to see you. The power's out from the snowstorm, but I have candles here on the nightstand--"

  Hallan caught his hand as he reached for the small table. "No, Logan."

  But Logan pulled free and patted the top of the nightstand looking for the lighter. His hand bumped one of the tall pillar candles.

  "No." Hallan covered his hand and tightened over it, his grip much stronger than Logan would have expected.

/>   "I just want to see you, damn it." He tugged, but the elf wouldn't release him this time.

  "I know you do...but you can't. Not like this," he said urgently, pleading almost.

  "I don't understand. Why not?" He tried again to free himself, but Hallan held fast

  "Logan, listen to me." His voice was tight, almost pain-filled, which brought Logan's half-hearted struggle to break away to a halt. "Please. If you try to see me, if you do see me in this world...then I will get sucked back into my world and the window that allows me to come here will close. Forever. I...I won't ever be able to come here again. I won't be able to see you again. You'll be lost to me and I to you."

  The last was a whisper that slashed through Logan's heart like a hot blade. He swallowed hard, tried to speak, couldn't.

  Hallan's knuckles brushed over his cheek. So gently and tenderly, it almost brought tears to Logan's eyes.

  "So..." The words, when they came, were rusty, tight, barely squeezed past the constriction in his throat. "So I can never see you?"

  "There is a way. At least for tonight. If you're willing."

  "Yes. Whatever it is, I'm willing."

  "Are you sure? Because it involves going to sleep and...well, dreaming. I hate that I've finally managed to convince you I'm real and you're not dreaming, only to tell you that tonight, if you want to try this, it will be a dream of sorts."

  Logan's throat tightened again. "Will I remember it?"

  "Absolutely. This won't be a normal dream. It'll be a controlled dream where we choose how it looks and feels, what we say and do. When you wake up, you'll remember it all. It'll feel like it actually happened...because it will happen. Just on a different plane from where we are now."

  "Like astral projection...where our consciousness transcends the physical plane," he explained, not sure if "astral" translated into something people knew about in the elf world.

  "Exactly."

  "And we'll be together?"

  "Yes."

  "Okay. I'm in. How do we do it?"