Unexpected Prize

by Stone, Layla

  On her tenth baby step, he could feel the metal on his wrist suddenly warming. Cara jumped forward as he held out his arms and pulled her close asking, “Did it hurt?” He hoped not. He wasn’t sure what her pain tolerance was, but he assumed it was less than his.

  In his arms, she froze for a second. Testing to see if she would stay or push him away, he didn’t loosen his hug.

  Slowly, her body relaxed, and Jarr-o’s heart did, too. Cara was small, but she was soft, and he loved it. He noticed something else, too. She smelled different. The soap she’d used didn’t overpower the sweet scent he detected, one he couldn’t place. It was too faint. He wanted to lean in and take a deeper breath. Before he could, she looked up and shook her head, answering quietly, “No, it just scared me. It got warm, but it didn’t hurt. I get it, though, I’ll just stay next to you. I promise.”

  Cara stayed in his arms until he released her, reluctantly. True to her word, she stayed by his side as they left his property and began the trek to the nearby market.

  ***

  It had been a long walk, at least five miles. And she knew they still had to walk back—the prospect didn’t make her happy. The entire trek there, she’d kept thinking about Jarr-o and how he confused the hell out of her. One moment, he was horrible. The next, nice. Then back to being nasty, and again circling around to being warm. Incidentally, she wondered if he’d taken too many hits to the head at the arena and had suffered brain damage.

  When he wrapped his arms around her, she freaked out. It had been so long since someone had touched her with good intentions. She immediately felt a drowning desire to be held—by him. His strong, massive arms holding her close had nearly done her in. It was like a switch had been flipped, and her body melted into him.

  She wondered if it was the lack of physical touch that drew her in, or if it was the animal-like magnetism he had.

  Cara saw a line of square, clay buildings with open roofs up ahead. Over the top of each was thick, red-and-brown fabric that flapped in the breeze, the pieces held down by the corners. It was a dirt street, with several large, grey Angnies. She noticed females standing behind displays of food and other things she didn’t recognize, appearing at first glance like they were the merchants.

  She also noticed that they wore bright, colorful, sleeveless tunics and matching puffy pants like the Chancellor had. The males in the market all wore similar outfits, either in blue or white.

  Jarr-o scanned the market and paused to say, “We will get something to drink first.”

  Cara almost jumped up and down. She was so thirsty she could have drunk a river. “Okay. That sounds good. Wait, they will have water, right?”

  Jarr-o’s eyes softened a moment. “Yes, we will get some water. After that, I will get some food because I know there is nothing at my home. I haven’t lived there for the last year.”

  Oh, right. His sister had been kidnapped and killed there. It was sad, and she wanted to offer her condolences, but something told her that he wouldn’t take well to the human sentiment. She didn’t know if she could return to a house where a family member had died. But she forgave him for his outburst that morning.

  “Okay,” Cara said, letting him know that she acknowledged his plans.

  “And then we will look for clothes for you. My shirt is too big.”

  And with the long sleeves, it was also too hot.

  Jarr-o turned to her and closed his mouth like he’d stopped himself from saying something. His eyes narrowed. “Your skin has changed colors,” he said like he was intrigued. However, Cara took it a whole different way.

  Cara touched her cheek and felt the warmth. “Are they red or pink?”

  “Red.”

  Internally groaning, she realized that his skin had not changed colors. No wonder his flesh was dark and leathery. “It’s burned. The sun burns my skin if I stay out too long.”

  “You’re burning?” Jarr-o gave her an odd look. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I didn’t know,” she defended. “Are there any shaded places around here?”

  He looked around quickly. “No, only in the merchants’ huts, and I don’t want you in there without me. How bad does it hurt?”

  “Not bad right now. Later, it will be bad if I don’t cover my head.”

  He turned his head to the side. “We’ll do that first, then get water.” He didn’t let her agree or object. His large hand wrapped around her arm, and he pulled her into the double-sided market lane.

  Stopping at the first provider who had several colorful tunics lying over a wooden cart, Jarr-o stopped and picked up the first one he saw, holding it up until the woman eyed him warily.

  “How much?”

  The female’s tusks made her look meaner than she sounded. “Four keleps.”

  Jarr-o pulled coins from his pocket and set them on the cart. Quickly, Cara touched his hand holding the ugly red, yellow, and brown atrocity and held her hand up to the merchant. “Is it the same price for all of your dresses?”

  The female frowned. “Dresses?”

  Cara pointed at the tunic in Jarr-o’s hand. “This.”

  “What does it matter?” Jarr-o asked her, with a little too much irritation in his tone.

  She smiled slightly, keeping her mouth closed as she said, “Because I like the blue and pink one better than that one.”

  “Your face is burning more and more as we stand here, and you’re getting picky over colors?”

  Maybe it was males in general, regardless of race and species; they just didn’t get it. “Yes,” she said quietly but with firmness. “I am the one who has to wear it, and since this is the first outfit I’ve gotten in the past years of wearing scraps, I’d like to make sure it’s something I like. And I like the blue and pink one.” Then she squeezed his hand and whispered gently, “Please, may I get the blue and pink one?”

  He turned to the merchant and grabbed the blue and pink one. “I will take this one, too.”

  “Why don’t you—“

  Jarr-o hushed her with a look.

  “Fifteen keleps,” the female said with a mirthful eyebrow raise. Cara didn’t like the seller’s smug look. As if she knew that no matter what price she asked, Jarr-o would pay it.

  Jarr-o paid the merchant by tossing the coins not caring that some fell. He pulled Cara to a small, empty space between providers and began ripping the red tunic and twisting pieces of it. Without warning, he pulled her closer by the neck and wrapped the ripped fabric around her head while some of the large, sheer pieces fell in front of her face.

  “This will keep the sun off your skin until we get back. Cinder oil should heal the burns quickly.”

  It took several moments for Cara to regain her thoughts. She had lost all reason when he stepped so close she could practically brush her lips against his shirt. He was supremely masculine in size, stance, and strength. Her reaction was instantaneous and carnal.

  Staying steady as he finished wrapping her up, she asked, “What is that?”

  “It’s a healing oil.”

  “Was that the stuff that healed the bite marks?”

  “Yes,” he said, looking at the fabric covering her face.

  “Thank you for the dress,” she said, hopeful that he wasn’t too upset with her for paying an outrageous price—or at least she assumed it was.

  “You’re welcome for the tunic.” His tone wasn’t sour or begrudging.

  Next, he bought them large pouches of water. He drained his pouch and got another, while she had only made a small dent in hers.

  As they made their way down the market, Cara noticed that everyone—not a few, but all—had stopped to stare.

  She watched as one boar-like female stopped rearranging an avocado-shaped, purple fruit mound. Her eyes skimmed over Cara, but Cara realized the female was wide-eyed, not over her alien appearance but over Jarr-o. Cara looked up at Jarr-o and noticed that he kept scanning the crowd and giving ev
eryone narrowed glances. It was almost as if he were waiting for something to happen.

  His caution caused her to move closer to him, worried that maybe they were in danger.

  He slowed, looked over a cart full of black, round-shaped food items with thin, yellow hairs poking out around the middle, but he never said a thing. The males and females in the lane slowed down and gave him a wide berth, as if they were afraid of him. Which confused Cara. “Why is everyone scared of you?”

  “I smashed several huts a year ago,” he muttered.

  Shocked, she said, “What?”

  “My sister knew many of these females. She was friends with them. When she went missing, I thought they would know what had happened.” Shrugging he said, “I was angry. They suffered because of it.”

  Cara made a mental note that he had anger issues. Violent tendencies. “Well, I guess we didn’t really need these bracelets since everyone is giving us plenty of room.”

  To that comment, he paused but didn’t take his eyes off another male on the other side of the market. He snorted aggressively at the guy who then looked away. “You are lucky to be with me. With anyone else, you would have already been snatched.”

  What world was he living in? Oh, yeah, an alien one where females were kidnapped and killed. Hopes of finding safe passage off the planet were getting dimmer.

  ***

  Jarr-o could see the curiosity from the other males. And a few times, he saw lust. Cara’s small height added to the way she wore his tunic with a belt wrapped around her waist, accentuating her curves and making the oversized top look appealing.

  The attention Cara got grated on the very last of his nerves.

  It also tested his control because he didn’t want to be at the market. He wanted to be at home, taking care of Cara’s burned skin. He looked forward to taking care of her while she was awake. Her soft skin called to him, and he needed to feel it again.

  Chapter Six

  Home

  Jarr-o held the gate open for Cara. She held the box with her colorful fabric tightly against her chest. When she had asked if she could help carry anything, he’d gladly offered her the box with her tunic in it. He liked that she had offered to help.

  At the threshold of his front door, Jarr-o pushed the key into the lock and noticed that it was already unlocked. “Wait,” he whispered. He moved Cara off several steps to the side. Setting both sets of boxes on the ground by the door, he pointed for her to stay. Cara slowly crouched down and waited. Shoulders squared, eyes alert, he moved silently and swiftly into the house.

  His instincts were screaming at him to find the intruder.

  His adrenaline was pumping, but his breath was steady, preparing for battle.

  Entering the kitchen, he didn’t notice that anything had been touched, but the fact that the front door wasn’t locked told him someone had gotten in. His mind was going crazy at the thought of his house being broken into. If someone had done this while he was gone and Cara was home alone, he was sure he wouldn’t get over it. Ever.

  Entering the nook, he watched the hallway for any movement. Slowly, he peered around the corner into the gathering room and saw Karr-o standing near the fireplace. Jarr-o growled a warning.

  “What are you doing in my home?” If it were anyone else, he would have already attacked and killed the male. It was foolish to walk into any gladiator’s home unannounced.

  Karr-o whipped around. His eyes roamed each side of Jarr-o as if he expected to see someone else with him. “Since when do you get cold enough to make a fire?”

  “I’ll ask once more. What are you doing here?”

  Karr-o leaned back in a mock-relaxed stance. “I heard that you no longer fight for the Chancellor. That you fought with him…over a female. An alien female.” His disappointment was evident.

  Jarr-o was surprised that his father had come all the way from the city to express this. “I am retired. It was time, and I didn’t fight the Chancellor over a female. I fought him because he tried to cheat me out of what was mine.”

  Mostly.

  Karr-o’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t retire when you are at the top of your rank. You will have to lose to relinquish your title.”

  “That’s not a law, and even if it were, who would enforce it? You?”

  Karr-o’s large nostrils flared. “You don’t get to say when you do or don’t fight. Now that you’re not protected by the Chancellor, if you're challenged, you have to battle.”

  Folding his arms over his chest, Jarr-o said, “That’s also not true. I don’t have to accept any challenger. And now that I don’t fight for an arena, I have even less reason to do so.”

  Throwing out his arms, Karr-o bellowed, “You must fight until you can’t win. That is how your strength is measured. Even the Chancellor knows this. He lost his last fight. There are fighters all over the city looking for you. Looking to win in any arena against you. You must fight until you can’t. It is not the gladiator way to bow out.”

  Jarr-o replied, “The Chancellor didn’t lose his last fight. He stopped fighting because he gained a new position as the owner of an arena. I stopped fighting because I no longer want to, I can do more as a trainer. And more importantly, I don’t care whether you agree. I don’t care that the second-rate fighters are hoping to catch me in a corner so they can assume my title because I still have my strength, and I am still the top-ranking gladiator. No one can take that away from me.”

  In a mock-calm voice, his father said, “You are too young to understand this. You will be confronted until you lose your title. And I’ve arranged the perfect fight to lose that without losing your respect. It will be quick—”

  Jarr-o’s snarl cut him off. He did what? He rushed to his father and smashed his jaw with a right hook.

  Karr-o took the hit and used Jarr-o’s momentum to roll them into the couch, damaging the left side. Jarr-o tumbled onto the rock floor. Karr-o stepped up on the couch and leapt down beside him, his fist raised high, gaining energy to smash back down. Jarr-o was able to slide out of the way.

  Jarr-o moved his legs just as his father tried to smash his ankles with his heavy, reinforced boots.

  “I told you never to set up another fight for me,” Jarr-o snapped. “You don’t control me or my fights.”

  Karr-o rushed to attack repeatedly as Jarr-o moved or blocked each maneuver. The urgency and rage were building, and Jarr-o could tell that his father would lose his focus and give Jarr-o the opening he needed to take Karr-o out.

  “You won’t win,” Jarr-o taunted.

  Karr-o threw a wild, telegraphed punch. Jarr-o ducked to the left, rounded back up, and jabbed at the old male’s ribs.

  “I am not the only one who knows about the fight with the Chancellor. Or that you have an exotic female,” Karr-o said before throwing a cross to Jarr-o’s face and kicking his side, connecting with his hip bone and effectively throwing off Jarr-o’s balance. “Females make you weak. You need to get rid of her and join another arena, or keep the skinny woman and lose your title in another fight.”

  Jarr-o almost paused when he realized that his father not only knew he had a female, but what she looked like. He threw several combination punches and kicks at Karr-o, but had no designs on killing him. He only wanted to wear him out and then wound him enough to get his message across about never setting up another fight for him.

  “I’m finished fighting. And there is nothing that anyone can do to change that.”

  Karr-o’s eyes turned cold, and Jarr-o noticed when those dead eyes looked around the room. “You can’t be around her every moment of the day. Your enemies will come for her, just like they did your sister.”

  Jarr-o was enraged that his father would bring up his sister in such a way. And to lay blame on Jarr-o and insinuate that he couldn’t protect Cara…it was a nebula-sized insult. He struck hard and fast at Karr-o’s wide, flat nose, no longer willing to send a mild message.

  “I
see your anger, son. Look how weak your Terran has made you. Your attention to her is even worse than how you treated your sister.” His father swung, but Jarr-o blocked the punch with his arm. “Females are only good to breed sons, and if they can’t do that, then they are worthless. A child with this Terran will only be a half-warrior, good for growing plants, a worthless thing. You can’t keep her. It will destroy all you’ve become. Send her to the lay-houses. They will be glad to have a rare woman.”

  He had heard enough.

  With deft movement, he struck Karr-o’s ear as hard as he could with a cupped hand. His father roared and fell to one knee, holding his ear. Jarr-o had precision when landing a hit, and knew Karr-o’s eardrum was blown. With luck, it was permanently damaged. It would send an unequivocal message.

  Jarr-o grabbed Karr-o by the hair, ripping it back so his father could look him in the eyes. “I will not answer to any fight you set. I am finished, and I am done with you. Do not set foot on this land again. Do not threaten my female, because she’s mine, and I will fight to the death to protect her. Don’t. Come. Back.” He kicked his father in the face, letting him fall face-first on the cold ground.

  At the corner of his peripheral, Jarr-o caught Cara peeking out from the nook with an unreadable expression, clutching the covering he’d made to block the sun from her skin.

  Chapter Seven

  Choices

  Jarr-o rubbed the soap over his knuckles, enough to create lather. He hated blood on his skin and clothes. Shaking, he washed every inch of his body, a ritual he’d developed from his first fight. Except, this time, he hadn’t faced down another nameless competitor. It was his father.