When I woke again, I was wrapped in a blanket. Taking it off made me realize why I was wrapped in it to begin with. The temperature had dropped so much I thought it was suddenly winter.

In the living room – a small space with sparse furniture and no electronics – I found Orm standing next to a table, sipping something hot out of a mug. From the smell, I knew it was hot cocoa. Given how brilliant he was, I didn't need to ask how he managed to make it.

Supe was asleep on one of the couches. He no longer wore a bandage, and I couldn't see his stab wound anymore. That made me check on my own stab wound. It was gone. Orm's underwater remedies had worked wonders.

“I have a strange question.” I piped, hugging my blanket closer.

Orm turned. He seemed oblivious to the cold. I doubted he even knew it was cold. “Which is?”

“Do you eat seafood?”

He looked at me funny and it cracked me up in an instant. I really thought his expressions were wholesome and funny. I was relieved when he smiled back.

“Shrimp.” He replied.

“Where'd you learn to fight like that?” I settled into the other couch. It was smaller than the one Supe slept in.

Orm strolled to stand behind me and leaned against the back. “I am of royal blood. It is expected of me to train harder than others. I have a people to defend.”

I ogled up at him. From that angle, he looked younger. He handed me his cup of cocoa.

“Thank you. So, you are a prince?”

“My mother is queen so yes, I am.” He came to sit next to me. “What did your mother do for a living?”

I looked down as vivid memory resurfaced. “She was a teacher. Taught me when I was 5 til I turned 10 then she resigned and became a jewelry retailer. She used to save the prettiest pieces for me.”

Inadvertently, I touched my neck. Bill had snatched my necklace the night he attacked me and Supe. It broke my heart all over again.

“What is it?” Orm prodded. His fingertips were always touching.

“The last one she gave me, I'd been wearing it for six years and counting.” I looked at him and tried to mask how sad I felt. “Bill took it.”

He suddenly snarled. “That beast has no form of self-restraint, I see. His face is the kind I like to smash my fist into for fun.”

I chuckled. “That's also something I'd like to watch for fun.”

He looked at me longer than usual. I figured I'd melted into human wax.

“Did you learn anything from the people you called?” He asked then scowled. “I tried to use a. . . what did you say it was called?”

“The telephone.” I reminded.

He nodded. “It's worse than the boaster.”

“Toaster.” I corrected.

He made a careless grunt. “Whatever. Did anyone say anything useful?”

I'd almost forgotten about our deal. Luckily, my parents had known people in real estate business. I wasn't even aware until I'd pulled out their old phone book.

“I found two. We could go look at them tomorrow. I'll call the restaurant and tell them I'm taking two days off. Extra.”

“That's a relief.” He leaned back, still looking at me. “I would have hated to discuss such matters alone with strangers. I doubt my patience would hold long enough.”

I chuckled again. “No, it won't.”

“I wonder why you laugh at me often. Do you find something funny about me?”

“Yes, a few.”

He blinked in slight disbelief. “May I know what they are?”

“Well, half the time you look so exhausted and frustrated that you'd cry. . . if you were me.”

“That's funny?” His forehead showed many lines when he frowned.

“Yes. And it's also funny how you make faces at everything. You have a lot of facial expressions. And, you're so clueless.”

“No, I'm not.” He denied, feigning composure. “I know things.”

I put the cup down and scooted close. “Yeah, like what?”

He leaned into me. “I know that if you tried to catch a cuttlefish, you would get inked before you came close enough so the best way to do it would be to skewer its calcareous internal shell, and not a lot of people know where it is.”

I had no idea why I was laughing. Perhaps it was because I felt so at ease with him. “But you do.”

“I do. The thing is, I don't skewer cuttlefish.”

“What do you skewer?”

He thought for a moment. “Bill. And every other imbecile that would dare come near you with the intent of making you cry.”

I blushed. Hard. Very hard.

He took up my chin – perhaps for a different reason – and I leaned in. I tried to focus on the moment, but my head was warbling uncontrollably. My lips touched his. I ran a gentle hand across his compact chest and hooked my arm around his neck then let my fingers travel into his hair.

I had no idea why he allowed me, but I wasn't going to miss my chance. He tasted like sea salt and cocoa. That’s not as bad as it sounds.

When I pulled away, he stared searchingly at me, as if he couldn't understand why I kissed him.

“Are you upset?” I felt sheepish.

He broke a little smile. “Who would be?”

The retort brought waves of relief. I wanted to tell him right there that I liked him a lot, but I figured I'd taken him by surprise enough already.

“Is that the only way surface dwellers know to express affection?” He questioned. His voice was soft.

“That's how I know to do it.”

Just then, Supe woke up and dove in between us.

“I didn't get to say thank you for whatever it is you did that made him alright again.”

He let out a dismissive grunt that said his effort was nothing. “He was already healing. He's a strong dog creature, just like his owner.”

I lowered my face to hide my smile.

“But you're welcome.” He completed and stood up, strolling to the door. “Rest for the night. Tomorrow you may return home.”

I laid next to Supe and tried to think of anything else, but only images of Orm invaded my mind. It had all happened so quickly. I didn't expect to like him at all albeit his attractive godlike appearance. He was far too serious and often indifferent. Half the time he looked like he wanted to disappear or carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. As a result he seemed tense around the clock.

But getting to know him a bit made me realize he was softer underneath although not always willing to show it. Despite being open-minded, he could pass as a bit obnoxious. An aura of overprotection I gathered was a result of his heritage always hung about him, as if he felt utterly responsible for the lucky few that meant something to him.

I wondered if I was now amongst the number. His reserved personality was soon bound to make me feel that I wasn't, and it scared me. A man who hardly said what he felt was difficult. I'd never handled such before. But it was worth a try.

You're being silly, Rosy, I thought. He doesn't even like you.

Plain Jane should've been my name. My brown hair was always a mess; I had wary eyes, according to my mother, that made one think I was frightened and about to run, and my skin sported blemishes from working long hours under the sun. But something assured me he did not care about looks and I relaxed.

I snuggled my dog and shut my eyes, remembering his offer. If I could pull it off before the week ran out then my house would be safe.

Dear God, I prayed in silence, make this work.