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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.”

    32
    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.”

    Reindeer Games

    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