by Stone, Layla
Out of the washroom and dressed in clean clothes, he set out to find Cara. She was in the kitchen, leaning back against the light wood countertop with her arms crossed and eyes down. Jarr-o knew she was closed off.
He wasn’t sure if she was scared of him after watching him fight his father, or if there was something else bothering her. With the rise of his hormones and emotions, it was better to not ask questions.
Jarr-o picked up all the boxes from outside and set them on the counter next to Cara. She moved out of his way slightly but didn’t offer to help. His mood being what it was, it rubbed him the wrong way.
“The food will spoil if left in the sun too long. Organize them by variety and put them in the pantry next to the infirmary. I’ll grab the cinder oil for your burns, then I’ll work on securing the front and side doors while you cook and begin cleaning the house. There’s as much dirt in here as outside.”
One eyebrow raised she said, “Excuse me?”
At least, he had her attention.
“After what just happened, you want me to clean and cook for you?”
Jarr-o didn’t like her tone. It was accusing. He’d fought his father to keep her safe. Ungrateful. His temper pricked, he snarled, “Was I unclear? Did you want me to explain how to unload the food? Or maybe how to clean? From the first moment I met you, I could see how that might be confusing for you.”
Cara’s upper lip curled. If she were another fighter, it would signify that she wanted to rip out his throat. Her tone was deathly smooth and calm as she said, “I’m done listening to you tell me how dirty I was when we first met. I had been locked in a cage for over a year. I doubt you would be any cleaner had you suffered what I did. And I’ll be damned if I go through another of your bloody mood swings. When you’re ready to talk to me like a person instead of a slave who needs to get cleanin’, then we’ll talk.”
Maybe she did want to rip out his throat.
If Jarr-o had mood swings, it was mainly her fault. She was the one who’d kicked his very routine life off its axis, and he didn’t think cleaning and cooking were considered slave labor. But maybe she did. “Were slaves the only ones who cooked and cleaned on your planet? Or have you been in servitude so long that you don’t know the difference?”
Cara’s mouth dropped, and he felt a sick thrill that he had pushed her to the limit. Then she did something contrary to reason and smiled. “Yeah, that’s right.” She sniffed the air and added, “I’ve been passed around for my cleaning skills. You’re one lucky guy to get all this for free.”
He felt it prudent to point out, “You’re not free. The upkeep will be ongoing.”
With a smug smile, she shook her head. “Not for long.”
Three simple words smashed into his chest and stayed there. He didn’t like the way they repeated in his mind, over and over. He chose his next words carefully. “You’re planning to leave because I asked you to cook and clean? Is that correct?”
Hesitation.
He took the silence as affirmation and moved on to, “If that’s slave labor, then I’ve been a slave all my life. I took care of my sister when my mother left to be a breeder for another male. One she stayed with because he treated her better than my father. After I kicked my father out of the house for beating my sister so bad she almost died, I became the head of the family. The last thirty-three years, except for the past year, have been focused on cooking, cleaning, buying food, and fighting to keep my sister safe and healthy. Not once did I consider what I was doing slave work. It was my responsibility to take care of her.”
Cara shifted her feet, moving her gaze from him.
If another fighter did that, he would know that he had the upper hand. That the warrior was trying to avoid him. That they were scared of him. And if Cara felt that way, he’d take it. He was going to lay everything out and let her choose because he wasn’t going to spend time buying her clothes, fixing the doors, and changing his future for someone who was only using him to pass the time before she left.
“And when I asked you to put away the food and clean, it was because my first problem was that my father was able to get inside my home. Which means it’s unsafe, and I need to fix that first. But since it’s been so long since I’ve eaten, and probably longer since you have, I decided it would be best to get both done at the same time. And cleaning could have been started by you, but finished by us both, but obviously, I’ve misunderstood all of this. So, let’s have a conversation like people.”
He swallowed before saying, “Decide now if you’re going to stay or if you’re going to leave. If you plan to leave, then I’ll fix the door later, and we can eat something before I take you to the Space Dock, find you a ship, and you can go wherever you want. I’ll do that for you because I acknowledge that you’ve had a broken life since you were young. You were enslaved unjustly, but you pressed on, and you’re alive. That fight you’ve fought for years is over. You won. Now claim your winnings. Your options are…me or a spaceship, hoping it gets you home—or whatever your destination is.”
Silence.
“Cara?”
More silence.
Jarr-o watched as Cara’s eyes closed while both hands ran through her hair and grasped handfuls at the back. “I can’t answer you because, sometimes, you say things that make me want to beat your face in with a frying pan, and then you’re nice and sweet, and that makes me want to kiss you.”
Kiss? What was that? Sounded like a good thing.
He was about to point out that she would never be able to hit him with whatever a frying pan was because he had better reflexes than she did, but he decided it was smarter to remain silent.
Releasing her clumps of hair, she peered up at him. “I don’t know the answer.” She ran her fingers through her strands a few times, making her hair look exactly as it had before. Inhaling, she shook her head, and this time, he saw the tears welling in the corners of her eyes. “Are you being serious about letting me go? And that you’d walk me to the Space Docks?”
With great effort, he answered, “Yes.”
Cara blinked several times and wiped her nose. “I…I need a second. Please.”
She didn’t need to think about it. Not really. He knew what she wanted, and she only had to say it. But he wouldn’t say it for her, so he nodded once and said, “I’ll be outside.” Her eyes turned to him, and she covered her mouth, but the tears burst out and streamed down her face.
He didn’t like watching tears fall. Even more so with Cara.
Jarr-o needed a moment alone, too. He had to find his calm and refocus his priorities. He still had a life to live, and he was going to live it.
***
Cara was shaking as she watched Jarr-o walk out the front door from where she stood. The moment the door shut, she gasped for air and broke down in a way she hadn’t known she could. Bawling a flood of tears, her stomach convulsed, and she took in deep, terrifying breaths.
A rush of relief, anguish, hope, anxiety, surprise, confusion and many other emotions she didn’t recognize bubbled over, and she turned into a heaped mess.
Free. She would be free. All those years of hoping and fighting for a dream she’d never truly believed in, and it had just come true. Cara struggled to breathe. On the floor, she pulled herself into a ball as her emotions ran though her.
It was cleansing. Healing.
Once she’d stopped crying, wiped her face and blew her nose, it became terrifying. She wanted to see her parents, remember the day they’d cried as she was taken away from them. Years of anger had turned to understanding, and from that, forgiveness. Cara badly wanted to go home, but she also didn’t know if her parents were still alive, or if they would be saddled with debt that needed to be paid. Her doubts about their lives bloomed into fear.
Cara didn’t want to be sold again. Not after being released. She wouldn’t do anything ever again that might tempt fate.
If she didn’t go home, she didn’t know of any
other planets she would be welcome on where she could take care of herself. The freedom she wanted was in her hands, yet she felt how tied they really were.
New tears slipped out. These fueled by her doubts and despair. What was she going to do now?
Peering up at the door, she didn’t want to entertain the idea of staying with Jarr-o. He was a jerk, and he would always be one. No matter how nice he seemed, he always rounded back around to being mean. What kind of life would they have?
His father had made it pretty obvious that she was worthless and would ruin their kids—if they ever had any. Then, Jarr-o talked about training other fighters. Was he going to leave her home while he went to the city and trained them? Would other males really attack him just to say that they’d won a fight against the top gladiator?
Jarr-o’s world was crazy. Worse, it wasn’t much different from her messed-up world back home.
Cara scratched her head, hoping for some inspiration. Maybe another option. A better one.
She absently rubbed her bottom lip when a question popped into her thoughts.
How do you kiss someone with tusks?
The question was so random, she looked around, wondering if someone had said it or if she’d really thought it. Then, remembering that his sister had died inside the house, Cara instantly got a shiver. What if Jarr-o’s house was haunted?
As she stood up, she thought about the intricacies of kissing Jarr-o. His tusks would get in the way of a real human-like kiss. And then she wondered how two Angnie’s kissed each other.
Her mind dropped further into the gutter as she imagined what it would be like for him to kiss other places. Vulgar as it was, she really pondered it, fancied it, and started feeling her sex clench in anticipation.
Shaking her head, she threw off those thoughts. She was not having sex with an alien. Especially not with Jarr-o, it would be too complicated. And weird. A little hot, assuming he was big all over, but that wasn’t enough to get her to lift up her clothes and let him at the goods.
And then her mind was swept back into the fantasy of making love to a six-and-a-half-foot, grey, muscled, and powerful male who was currently prowling around outside. “Stop,” she hissed.
Cara moved from the kitchen into the living room and stopped, aghast. Jarr-o moved stones in front of the glass. He slathered a dark brown substance over each stone—she assumed it was something like cement.
He was closing off the best part of his house? No!
She wouldn’t let him. Not since her best option was to stay with his moody butt. That was her room. She was going to claim it right now. And, afterwards, they were going to have a long talk about his temper.
Rushing to the glass wall, she pounded on it and shouted, “Stop! You can’t close this off.”
Jarr-o shook his head and pointed at his ear.
“I SAID NO,” Cara bellowed.
He nodded at her and then returned to slathering on more cement stuff, bending down to place another stone on the pile. Cara growled, spun around, and ran through the house and out the door. She hooked her fists on her hips when she found him. “I’ve made my decision. I’m staying. And I don’t want you to block this wall. I liked watching the sunrise this morning. I plan to do it a lot.”
Jarr-o didn’t say anything for a long time. For a moment, she wondered if he would rescind his offer. Then it was like something overtook him. He straightened up, sniffed the air, and told her, “Get back in the house.”
It was a command.
Cara turned and ran back inside. She had seen that expression before. It was the same as when he had finished fighting his father.
Chapter Eight
Outside His Home
Jarr-o was a controlled male. In and out of the arena….but his little Terran was destroying every ounce of control he had.
She had just declared that she was staying. He should have felt joy, but he felt numb, as if he couldn’t believe it.
A familiar scent crossed his nose, and he stilled. The air stirred, and Jarr-o could not only smell the rank scent of old blood, but he could also feel the vibrations in the ground and atmosphere. They weren’t alone.
“Get back in the house,” he told her, and she responded immediately.
When he could no longer smell Cara outside, he called out, “Make yourself known to me, or die a painful death,” he warned, ready to strike in less than a heartbeat.
“Jarr-o? Is that you?” A male Angny with red tattoo lines on his face walked out from around the side of the house.
“Who are you?” Jarr-o asked, moving silently to see if the intruder would hold his defensive pose, or if he would adjust.
“I’ve been sent to speak to your father. I was informed he was here.”
The male had answered, but he had not moved. An inexperienced fighter. “You’ve been misinformed. You are on my land. My father just left, you can catch him if you hurry. He was not moving quickly. ”
“I can’t return without Karr-o. If you are hiding him, that wouldn’t be wise.”
Jarr-o moved again and noticed another smell, faint in the air. The warrior wasn’t alone. Male musk—whoever else was out there, didn’t shower enough. Or he had just finished fighting and was still coated in his own sweat. “What is unwise, is trespassing. I suggest you leave. Now.”
The male didn’t leave, and Jarr-o didn’t expect him to. Instead, Jarr-o believed he would double-down on the threat. Which was fine, because Jarr-o was looking for other intruders. So far, he’d only sensed the intruder and the one that was far away. He committed both scents to memory. It was just the smell of decay. Since the male in front of him was alive, Jarr-o was sure that the decay smell was because this male was a fighter and had not cleaned since his fight, which meant he was an underground warrior.
“I have it on good authority that your father was seen walking this way, to this land. I can’t imagine he would go anywhere else, considering what he owes my boss.”
Lies. Jarr-o knew his father well enough to know that he would never owe or fight in an underground match. It was beneath him. Black-market matches were for unskilled or untitled fighters. Jarr-o said, “If you’re waiting for an invite to check for yourself, you’re wasting your time. My father is not here, and whatever you came looking for is not here either.”
There was a hint of amusement in the intruder’s tone as he said, “You don’t know who my manager is. You don’t want to get between him and what he’s owed.”
“I don’t care who your boss is, and he won’t get payment from me.” As he said those words, he crouched down to feel a new vibration. But instead of being in the air, it was on the ground. Currently, it was far away, but it was thrashing around. Jarr-o lived far enough away from others that he wanted to trust that the thing big enough to vibrate the earth was nothing to worry about, but he never lied to himself.
“We’ll see,” said the intruder.
Jarr-o’s mood slipped past anger, right into a rage. “You have my vow that if you don’t exit my land, I will consider it an act of hostility and kill you.” He was no longer interested in staying outside. He needed to return inside and ensure that the house was locked up tight. “I will give you to the beat of four.”
The stranger didn’t speak, but Jarr-o heard the shuffle of the gravel as the stranger ran away—in the direction of the other person he knew was out there. Jarr-o stayed where he was until he couldn’t hear the warrior’s footsteps any longer, and to ensure that the male left, he stayed out for several more minutes, taking in the vibrations that had finally stopped thrashing.
Chapter Nine
Deal
Walking through the entryway into the kitchen, he saw the unopened boxes. His stubborn female was perched on the counter, wearing the blue and pink tunic he’d bought. It was gathered at her waist, leaving her legs exposed, drawing his immediate attention…and lust. She watched him walk in, nibbling on a pim-fruit, looking…decided?
&n
bsp; Jarr-o looked at the boxes of fruit and back at her, a move she couldn’t miss. Cara licked her lips. A smile curled the sides of her mouth before she took another bite of fruit. A taunt he couldn’t miss.
She was pushing him on purpose. Obstinate female.
He saw her action as a game. She had made her move, and he could tell she was anxiously awaiting his response. Well, he didn't want to disappoint her.
The victory against her would be the sweetest he’d ever gained. And his prize? He glanced at her slim legs, moving his eyes hungrily up to her full hips and pert breasts. She unknowingly caused his self-control to falter.
Or maybe she did know.
Jarr-o moved into her space, so close that he could feel her knees brushing his waistband. Her eyes dared him to do or say something.
His blood pumped harder than when he was about to begin a battle in the arena. His control broke down, and his need spread through him from his male center then up his spine before riveting across his skin.
To his surprise, Cara leaned closer to him. The fresh scent of pim-fruit hit his nose. Her lips a scant breath away. “Do you want a kiss, or do you want me to put away the food?”
Helpless to stop himself, he closed the gap, pulling her in with a tug on the back of her neck. “Show me the kiss.”
Opening her mouth slightly, she grabbed his bottom lip with her teeth and sucked them. To his shock, she wrapped her arms and legs around him as she whispered, “Like this.” Her lips opened further, and he felt her tongue slide into his mouth. Confused, excited, and eager to learn this new seduction, he gave her everything that she gave him, and then he pressed for more—leaning into her more, locking her in place, feeling her delicate heat through his clothes.
With one hand, he slid his palm up the side of her thigh past her hip and grabbed her ass, pulling her closer to his need. She mewled at the contact, then whispered, “Are these sensitive?” As she ran her small, dark pink tongue up his right tusk, his control turned to mush.
***
