by J. J. Lore
Lear climbed in next to her, his hands pulling away the coverings to expose her body clad in that familiar gown. For a long, agonizing moment she was immobile, but then one slender leg shifted against the mattress and she blinked several times before rising on her elbow to stare at them.
“Am I dreaming?”
“No, sweet Hanna. We’re here.” Lear edged even closer to her and something in Garrin’s heart thudded when he saw her sway in his mate’s direction as she pressed close to him.
“You said I’d never see you again. What’s happened?” She rubbed the heel of one hand against her eyes, and Lear wrapped his arm around her shoulders. The thudding in Garrin’s heart transformed into a cold roil of his gut as he realized Hanna remembered who they were perfectly well. His mate had not glamoured her as he’d promised to do. Just as he opened his mouth to question Lear, a muted roar echoed from outside and the cracks in the shuttered window glowed as if the sun was rising. The fire was drawing close.
Hanna squinted at the orange light invading her dark bedroom. “What’s that? Is that smoke?” Her expression transformed from soft and sleepy to anxious and she clutched at Lear’s hand. Garrin found himself kneeling on the bed next to her as he slid one arm under her knees and the other around her back. As he lifted her, she clutched at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking you to a place of safety. There is a large conflagration in the center of town.” Hanna made a few confused sounds as he walked toward the door. “Lear, gather those possessions that might be of vital use.”
She twined her arms around his shoulders and held tight as he descended the stairs. He could hear Lear shifting things in her room. The cat waited at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes glowing green in the eerie half-light of the approaching fire. “Phoebus, you are welcome to accompany us but you must keep up and obey my instructions.”
The cat made an inquisitive chirrup and walked to the door, glancing back over his shoulder as if to say he was ready and why were they lagging? Hanna’s grip on him tightened as he reached for the doorknob.
“Where are we going?” Her trusting gaze met his and he swallowed, suddenly unsure about everything. Was this the epitome of foolishness to carry off a young human woman to some location he hadn’t even decided yet? Truly, where could he take her in the mortal world that wasn’t riddled with disease, discord, and danger?
“We are bringing you to our home, at least until things quiet here in Arlentown,” Lear said as he appeared at their side. Garrin opened his mouth to object, but before he could utter a word to chasten his companion, they were out in the public thoroughfare, now awash with even more panicked people. The heat from the approaching flames prickled along his skin. It was only due to his quick reflexes that he avoided being run down by a cart packed high with household belongings. Acrid smoke billowed around them. Hanna stiffened in his arms and let out a sad cry as she beheld her fellow humans’ despair.
Lear pressed through the crowd, the black-and-white tom now perched on his shoulder and, surrendering to the inevitable, Garrin followed. They could camp somewhere in the forest for the night. There was no need to take her past the barrier and into the queen’s kingdom. Resolved to this less perilous outcome, he followed his companion through the streets toward the town gate and freedom beyond. Hanna craned her head and stared behind them at the burgeoning fire, little worried sounds issuing from her throat. Determination to protect her as well as he could filled him and he clutched her even tighter to his chest.
There was a glut of humanity at the gate and as they were delayed, Garrin wished they could simply scale the wall and avoid the crush of complaining people and wailing children. It was within his and Lear’s powers, but they’d likely induce a panic if they deployed any magical prowess, so he held back and gritted his teeth to endure the jostle. The sound of Hanna’s name being shouted caught Garrin’s attention and he turned to see the corpulent man from the earlier altercation making as if to force his way toward them. She shivered in his arms.
“Please, I don’t want to see him,” she said, staring at the fellow for a moment before burying her face in Garrin’s shoulder.
“Then you shan’t,” Garrin reassured her as he pressed his elbow to Lear’s side. His companion moved to block the man’s progress and Garrin searched his memory for a shadow spell. For a moment he derided his lack of skill with magic, but somehow the training he’d undertaken years ago returned with a fury and the powerful incantation rolled off his tongue, cloaking Hanna, Lear, himself, and even her cat in a dark veil. It would seem as if they’d simply sunk into a shadow for those milling around them. After that, it was easy work to leap up the wall and drop to the ground outside. Hanna let out surprised squeaks through the process, but Phoebus took it in stride, likely since he was used to such movements when he undertook his nocturnal rambles.
He maintained the shadow as they fled through the fields, only relinquishing it once they reached a remote copse of trees. Gently he set Hanna on her feet and she shot him a tiny smile, but turned back to face the town, pushing aside some branches that impeded her view. What she saw was not encouraging; it seemed half of Arlentown was glowing orange and red. The light from the fire illuminated grey billows of smoke that fled up into the night sky, blocking the stars and moon from view.
“What will we do? If my shop is lost…” She trailed off with a sigh and her shoulders slumped. Lear reached for her after dropping a bundle on the ground. She immediately fell into his arms, clinging tight to him as he stroked her back. His companion watched Garrin with a serious expression.
“We can make a camp here. Reconnoiter in the morning.” Garrin wasn’t sure what they would do with Hanna if her shop and home were destroyed. They could hardly leave her among the smoking ruins and return to the forest knowing she’d freeze or starve, lost among all the other refugees who’d been her neighbors.
Hanna shivered and Lear tightened his grip on her. “It’s too cold and Hanna needs proper shelter. We take her home.”
Before he could lay out a list of reasons why this was an impossible proposition, Hanna shivered again and his will broke. Their treetop abode was very close to the border and there were no neighbors. The likelihood of anyone discovering her presence was low. Sheltering there for the night would at least give him time to formulate a better plan for her eventual disposition.
“Just for tonight. We tell no one.”
Lear grinned and nodded agreement as Hanna glanced back and forth between them, still sheltered in the circle of his mate’s arms. She craned her neck to stare at the death of her city through a break in the branches. Her cat ranged into the underbrush with a crackle of leaves. A sudden sob escaped her, and Garrin stepped closer, stroking his hand down her thin back.
“Would you carry her or shall I?”
Before Lear could answer, Hanna spoke up with a quavering voice. “I can walk, of course.”
“I know you can, sweet, but be strong enough to accept our help.”
She tightened her jaw and gave a tiny nod. With that acceptance, Lear lifted her into his arms. They would make better time if he and his mate were allowed to run unimpeded. Garrin bent to collect the parcel from the dewy grass.
“Come, Phoebus. Unless you wish to dash along on your short legs and run the risk of a fox finding you a tasty midnight snack, you will need to consent to be carried by me.”
With a little yowl, the creature emerged from the brush and Garrin gathered his soft, heavy body up. With a quick nod, his eyes alight with pleasure, Lear leaped away, moving quickly through the glen with his slight burden. Garrin followed, dread at what the morrow might bring warring with the delight he felt knowing Hanna would be safe with them for a time.
Chapter Six
Warm. That was the first realization Hanna had upon waking, soon followed by the blissful sensation of clean sheets and a soft bed. She stretched and rolled over as she blinked her eyes open, aware she wasn’t ensconced on her own lu
mpy mattress with threadbare sheets and a blanket that never seemed to hold back the cold. In a painful rush, memories of the night before bore down and she sat up, suddenly panicked about where she was and what had happened to Arlentown.
All around her were whitewashed walls, thick timbers black with age, and windows with tiny panes fitted together into intricate patchworks. The ceiling soared overhead to a gathering point from which an enormous, metal, candle-laden chandelier descended. She was nestled into a bed that seemed large enough to fill the room and lay directly beneath the hanging candelabra. A few low wooden cabinets lined the walls, and there were two immense doors. She seemed to be alone.
She ran her hands down her sides to find she was wearing a tissue-thin silken shirt. The rest of her body was bare. Unable to hold back a little sound of distress, she scooted toward the edge of the bed, the soft feather tick beneath her sinking under her weight and conspiring to keep her deep inside its soft confines. With a groan of effort she dropped her feet to the floor where they sank into a thick, soft rug of a complex pattern in grey and green. She’d never seen anything like it. On wobbling legs she rose, the hem of the shirt brushing against her upper thighs, and made her way to one of the doors, which she opened cautiously. Inside was a room of shelves and racks, all filled with beautiful men’s clothing in subtle colors and luxurious materials. Elf clothes. Garrin and Lear’s?
With a start she remembered them. What had seemed like a dream now flooded back and she realized they’d rescued her from the fire. Why hadn’t she remembered that until now? Turning away from the closet, she walked to the other door and opened it to find a tiny landing and a narrow, curving stair that led downward. A light scent filled her nose, a piney, minty mixture far removed from the damp, mildewed scent of her own bedroom. Did she dare descend?
The silence was broken by a familiar meow. Phoebus appeared on a lower step and stared up at her, his yellow eyes narrowed as if she was causing him a terrible problem. A shiver of shame for not worrying about the fate of her father’s cat filled her and she resolved to be more attentive to the creature in the future.
“Phoebus, what are you doing?” she whispered down at the cat. She needed to collect him, find some clothes and shoes, and make her way from this seemingly abandoned house. It might not be Garrin and Lear’s and she was now afraid to meet the owner. “Come up here.”
Unsurprisingly, he turned away and disappeared into the lower level of the house. Repressing her urge to shout with frustration, she returned to the bedroom to search for something sturdier to wear. If whoever lived here abandoned her with minimal clothing, she could hardly be blamed for looking for more coverings to borrow. Anyone could see her nipples and nether regions through the thin material of the shirt she wore.
She again entered the closet and ran her hands along the folded clothes, marveling at the softness of everything she encountered. The sound of feet on the treads interrupted her perusal of the contents of the clothespress and she whirled to face whoever might be approaching even as she hid behind the open door. She saw a masculine shadow on the wall, someone tall and well built, and her belly fluttered.
“Hanna? Where are you?”
It was Lear’s familiar voice and she nearly cried out with relief. She wasn’t going to be confronted by a stranger. Pushing aside the door, she entered the bedroom to find him smiling at her, his green eyes alight with what she hoped was pleasure. He opened his arms and without any hesitation, she went to him, pressing against his broad chest as all the worry and stress from the previous evening’s disaster began to dissipate. He smelled of pine and she could hear his heart thumping away as he held her close.
“What’s happened? Where am I?”
“You’re in our home. Did you rest well?”
She nodded and twisted her head to look at him. He wasn’t loosening his grasp, so she had to maneuver quite a bit. He studied her with a solemn expression as he stroked his fingertips along her cheek. “Sweet Hanna. I’m so sorry about what happened.”
She recalled noise, people bumping into her, an orange glow. “I don’t smell smoke. Where is my gown?”
Lear rubbed circles against her back. “We washed you, and your gown is soaking in a tub of rainwater. Do you remember any of that?”
“No. Why is that?”
“We, well, I, cast a spell of serenity on you in the effort to ease your mind and allow you to rest as you needed. Simply to blur recent events.”
She wondered about that for a long moment, not liking that he’d tampered with her mind. “I remember the fire.”
“Yes. That was too traumatic to erase entirely. It was a large one. We fled with you as soon as we could so Garrin ventured out this morning to discover what’s happened to your town.”
Fear returned. What would she do if the shop was gone? She had nothing else, had never had enough spare money to deposit in a bank, moreover the bank might not even exist after such a tragedy. “Were people killed?”
“We’ll know more when Garrin returns. Come, let me serve you a meal.” He gestured at the door and she reluctantly left the shelter of his arms. Why his presence should be such a comfort, she couldn’t hazard a guess.
He stepped ahead of her and preceded her down the stairs, holding her hand and smiling encouragingly. They descended into a large, round room of the same white walls and dark wood beams, again lined with many windows looking out onto branches and leaves. They must be deep in a wood. Curiosity filled her and she studied her surroundings. Low, padded furniture was clustered in one area around a tiled stove, while another held cabinets and a table. Lear bade her sit on a soft, wide chair, then he bustled off to another area where he assembled a plate of food for her. He returned and passed it to her, along with a cup of something warm. Dark bread, some dried sausage, and a smooth brown egg in a tiny blue cup. She sipped absently at the herbal tea and found it to be refreshing as it soothed the dryness of her mouth and lips. Dazed by her circumstances, she held it and stared up at Lear.
“What is it, sweet? You seem confused.”
“I am. What will happen to me?” Sadness filled her. She knew she couldn’t stay with the elves, knew she shouldn’t want to, despite their fine treatment of her. Even if her shop was spared, the citizens of Arlentown would hardly have money for new shoes when the pressing business of food and shelter would take priority. The thump of a door intruded and she turned to see Garrin stride into the room, clad in tall boots and a sweeping grey knit cloak. He frowned at the two of them, then pulled the cape off to hang on a peg in the wall. Phoebus twined around his ankles as he approached. Garrin peered at his mate first as if to communicate something, then crouched before Hanna. He pulled the plate from her grasp, then gathered up her hands.
“Your home survived, as did much of the town.”
Relief filled her and she squeezed her fingers around his. “Who was hurt?”
“An older man suffered dyspepsia and perished. Some were burned or injured by falling timber.”
Tears sprang to her eyes and she rubbed at them, all the calamitous activity of the night and the discombobulated start of her morning combined in an overwhelming tide of confused emotion. Lear rubbed at her shoulder as Garrin kept hold of her hand. She had a sudden memory of how they’d touched her before, made her shake with unimaginable pleasure.
“It seems we were hasty in removing you to our abode.” Garrin gave his mate a stern glance but Lear didn’t react as he edged into the chair to embrace her. “We need to use utmost caution when we return you to Arlentown.”
“Surely not immediately? Allow her time to rest, eat, prepare herself for the work to come,” Lear said. “I only wish we would be able to accompany you and help with whatever cleanup you might undertake.”
“No, you’ve already been too kind, too generous,” Hanna said, and she glanced from one to the other. They’d seen she was in danger and had swept in to save her. It was the most wonderful gesture anyone had ever undertaken on her behalf. Lear’s h
and pressed to her back and she could feel the heat of it through the thin silk of the shirt. Unbidden, her nipples tightened. She should have felt embarrassed when Garrin, still crouched at her feet, noticed her body’s response as he glanced at her chest. All she could do was tighten her thighs together and hope her cunny didn’t react to the closeness of these two attractive men. “You’ve treated me too well.”
“What does that even mean? You should always be treated well. You’re a lovely person.” Lear peered at her with a disbelieving look before he kissed her cheek.
Garrin tightened his hold on her hands and she turned her gaze to him. “Has someone been ill-mannered toward you? That man last night who shouted, who is he to you? If he’s caused you distress in any way…”
The elf trailed off and narrowed his eyes and Hanna bit back her thoughtless urge to explain the situation with her overbearing landlord. Despite the elves’ gentle treatment of her, she sensed an underlying ferocity in them. They were not beings to cross. “He’s done nothing to me. I’m just not used to anyone noticing me.”
She’d almost said caring, but she couldn’t assume these elves had feelings for her. She couldn’t even be sure what her feelings were, other than gratitude and a nearly incapacitating attraction to them. Assuming she’d never see them again had made it easier to suppress the memories of their time together, made it easier to not long for them again. Having them here, touching her, paying attention to her words and feelings, brought it all back and she longed for the pleasure she knew they could bestow. Just thinking about it made her breath go short.
“Not notice you?” Lear’s tone was chiding as he arranged her hair behind her shoulder. Hanna knew she must look a fright, roused from bed after the disturbed night she’d had. “You draw our eyes like the beaming moon on a dark and cold night.”
The unexpectedly poetic compliment brought tears to her eyes. Lear kissed her cheek again and Garrin rubbed at her knees. Something heated in the air and she swallowed. Allowing herself to do as she’d wanted, she stroked her fingertips along the backs of Garrin’s broad hands and leaned her body Lear’s way as she tilted her head so it was easy for him to nuzzle her neck. He did and she shivered. Garrin rumbled something under his breath as he smoothed his palms up her thighs to straighten the hem of the shirt. Her legs trembled.
