I nearly melted into a pool right there on his floor.
“Thank you for this food. Will you stay the night?”
I was so tempted. “I have some early clients at the gym tomorrow, so it’s probably not a good idea. I need to be well rested, and we both know if I stay the night there will be very little sleep happening.”
He chuckled. “That is true. When are you done with your clients tomorrow? Will you be available in the afternoon around two o’clock for another date?”
Another date. I would move heaven and earth and my personal training schedule for another date with him. “Yes, I’m available at two o’clock.”
“Then I will pick you up at your den. Wear comfortable and warm clothing.”
I was intrigued. And I was in love. The guy had money, and taste, and he was the best in bed I’d ever had. I actually enjoyedtalking to him and spending time with him. I wanted to make a life with him. I wanted us to build our world together. I’d never fallen quite so hard or so fast as I’d done for this orc.
“I’ll be ready,” I told him.
Then we kissed, and I very reluctantly left and went back to my studio apartment where I tossed and turned most of the night, thinking about Eng.
21
ENG
It was surprisingly easy to arrange Monday’s date with the shrew, even with less than a day’s notice. Once more I found that where no human seemed to care about my lineage or title, once I mentioned I played hockey for the Tusks, opportunities abounded.
Feeling a twinge of guilt that I’d lied about actually “playing” on the team, I went to the arena late Sunday night, put on the despised knife-blade shoes, and stomped my way out to the ice. No one was there except for the security guard I’d greeted at the door, which was my intention. I didn’t even turn all the lights on, deciding to suffer this humiliation in the relative darkness in case the security guard was watching the cameras and not dozing at his desk.
And itwashumiliating. A lifetime of military drills and traditional orc sports hadn’t prepared me for the balance needed to propel myself across this slippery surface on skates. During games, I slammed the metal blades into the ice to provide stability, but tonight no one was watching and I truly wanted to see if I could manage the dance-like movements of the humans we’d played against.
Every five steps I found myself flailing and eventually landing on my ass. For three hours I persisted, not giving up until I could slowly make my way from one side of the arena to the other using the smooth side-to-side motion I’d seen from the humans. It took a surprising amount of strength and agility, and I found myself admiring the humans for yet another skill they’d clearly mastered.
This world had more to offer than just suitable candidates to be my bride. In spite of long-held stereotypes, I’d found the humans to be clever, resourceful, and quite masterful at creating systems to make their tasks more efficient and profitable. There was so much I could learn here, so many ways I could better our world back home once I became king.
And maybe even before I became king.
Sleep took me the moment my head hit the pillow, and I awoke six hours later rested, hungry, and sore from my many falls on the ice. I showered, ate at the diner down the street, then returned to my hovel to clean and make sure it was presentable. It might have been presumptuous for me to assume the shrew would end up here after our date, but this human female was just as eager for my body as I was for hers. Our encounters so far usually began and ended with sex, so it was hardly a stretch to think our date would end with her riding my hand-axe.
I’d never cleaned a day in my life, but I’d seen servants at the castle, and I’d witnessed our citizens sweeping the dust from their homes into the streets. How difficult could it be?
Quite difficult if one did not have any cleaning implements or supplies. Thankfully I had purchased stacks of bath towels and wash cloths since no one in the building seemed to be in charge of the residents’ laundry, and while the staff at the arena had been willing to wash, dry, and fold my clothing along with my uniforms for a nominal fee, they had informed me they would not be laundering my towels or sheets. I had been throwing thetowels away after each use and the sheets after a week, but found that they substituted for a broom and a mop quite nicely. They were also ideal for wiping the dust from surfaces. The hovel was not as sparkling as the castle servants would have made it, but I felt satisfied with my efforts once I’d thrown the garbage bags of used linens down the chute and surveyed the rooms.
Checking my phone for the time, I locked the hovel door and stopped by a coffee shop before calling for an Uber. The driver kept his vehicle idling by the curb while I took the stairs to the shrew’s minuscule abode, a coffee in each hand.
It was as if she’d been waiting by the door, or maybe had seen the vehicle pull up and me climb out of the back seat. I presented her with one of the cups—chai latte with almond milk, a shot of espresso, and a pump of vanilla, then walked by her side down to the waiting car.
“Where are we going?” Her brown eyes danced with excitement as she slid into the back seat and scooted over to the side.
“The Inner Harbor,” I told her as I climbed in and shut the door.
“Oh.”
There was a faint hint of disappointment before she smiled and took a sip of her drink. Anxiety washed over me, and I wondered if I’d made a mistake. The axe throwing had been a hit, as had the choice of dining establishment and other activities Saturday night. One poor choice wouldn’t spell the end of whatever we were building here, and I could quickly pivot if I found out she was terrified of water or hated boats. My mind raced through other alternatives, but I made a quick decision to stick with the original plan, and only abandon it if absolutely necessary.
“We’re taking a small sailing vessel onto the river.” I carefully watched her expression. “There is champagne and a selectionof meat, cheese, bread, and fruits that the owner called charred cutlery.”
She bit back a smile. “Charcuterie. Although the idea of eating it with charred cutlery is intriguing. That sounds wonderful, and so does champagne, although I’m really enjoying the coffee you brought me.”
“And the sailing?” I asked, worried that we might be eating charred cutlery and drinking champagne on the dock.
The shrew gnawed on her lower lip. “I don’t know. I’ve never been on a boat before. Can you believe it? I live here in Maryland, with the Bay and all these huge rivers practically on my doorstep, plus my father and grandfather both have spent their entire working lives at the Port of Baltimore,andmy mom’s parents are avid cruise-ship travelers in their retirement, but I’ve never been on so much as a rowboat.”
