Unexpected Prize

by Stone, Layla

  “Have you thought of what you’re going to do?” Peering at Cara, the trainer added, “You’ll need to find a way to take care of her and your little ones when they come.”

  Jarr-o leaned back against the couch. “I planned to train. I need to set up a place and then get the word out. I think it would best if I trained the young fighters.”

  The trainer took a sip of his hot drink and nodded his head. Jarr-o wasn’t sure if he agreed with Jarr-o’s idea or if he were just old and his head was shaky.

  “Or, you could run your own arena.”

  Jarr-o sat up. “What? How could I run an arena? I don’t own one.”

  The old trainer pointed to the left with his old withered hand. “There is an abandoned arena near Abard. I used to work there when I was young, but the owner died, and his fighters left when they found out how hard it was to run one. But you could do it, and fighters would come from all over to fight for you. You could do it.”

  The idea took root, and Jarr-o could think of nothing but opening his own arena. He squeezed Cara’s hand. “Would you mind living at an arena with me?”

  She hesitated. “Would it be safe?”

  Fresh anger surged at how the Chancellor had filled her head with lies. “Yes, I would make it safe and assign someone to watch over you when I wasn’t with you.”

  “Okay.” She squeezed his hand, and the future that had looked dim that morning rushed at him in technicolor. Jarr-o would heal soon, and then he would take her to Abard later that afternoon.

  He would begin spreading the word today. To the old trainer, he said, “Do you still have any contacts? Could you spread the word about my arena?”

  Old eyes that had dulled with age looked at him. “I always have contacts. And I will get the word out. I know the right Angny who loves to run her mouth.”

  Jarr-o smiled. “Your daughter still frets over you?”

  The old male chuffed. “She won’t leave me alone. She thinks I’m going to live forever, that daft girl.”

  Cara laughed and then cleaned up the dishes from the meal they had been offered. After that, it was time to move to their new home.

  Epilogue

  Jarr-o lay down first, on his back against the blankets. Cara slowly crawled on the ground to straddle him. “So, you are finally going to let me see all of you, scars and all?” She leaned down and nipped at his lips and then moved along his neck. “Because I like every inch of you, and you feel as good inside me as you do around me.”

  He groaned. “I love you, Cara.”

  She kissed him again. “I love you, Jarr-o. I can’t wait to have your children.”

  A family. He wanted that, too.

  “Anything else you want?” He ran his hands over her arms and shoulders, then down her sides to pull her hips down. He watched her as he rubbed the sensitive button between the lower lips of her sex. “Your skin is the softest thing I’ve ever felt.”

  “That feels good.” Cara rocked against him.

  Jarr-o removed her clothes, and then Cara scrambled back on top of him and grabbed his throbbing sex before she sank down. “I need you now. Right now.” She said this urgently, and he knew why. She barely made it down and rocked on him twice before he felt her already snug channel squeeze the hell out of him.

  He didn’t close his eyes. Instead, he watched her taking her pleasure from him. Once her climax had passed, he saw the look of peaceful satisfaction in her smile. She leaned forward, placed her hands on his chest, and expertly lifted her hips to slam back down on top of him.

  It felt so good, he almost climaxed right then, but he held himself back and gritted his teeth.

  “What?” Cara stopped. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he said through his teeth. She pushed a little farther down on him then lifted back up and played with the tip inside her.

  He hissed. “Please.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she said, “Please…what?” She went farther and farther then lifted back up.

  “Don’t stop,” he whispered, trying to keep himself from pulling her down and roughly impaling her with his massive cock.

  Cara dropped down on him until he was all the way inside her. She sat flush against his groin, grinding. Jarr-o needed more, he was desperate and on the edge of ecstasy. He pulled out, flipped her over onto her stomach, and fed her perfectly tight cunt his shaft before he gave one last warning. “Hold on. I need this.” And then he ravaged her, losing his ever-loving mind in her sweet softness.

  “Jarr-o, you feel so perfect. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

  He didn’t answer but upped his efforts and took her harder, shifting his angle slightly. He felt Cara’s orgasm, and she cried out. He couldn’t stop, he pistoned into her twice more and exploded. He roared, pumping every drop inside her.

  Jarr-o stayed inside her until he felt his desire subside. He pulled out but didn’t let her go. Her skin felt too good, and his body felt too wonderful.

  Cara was his future. Thoughts of a life and a family with her burned in his chest. She was more than just a life breeder. So much more. But his kind didn’t have words like wife. Pondering on it, however, that’s what she was to him. His wife.

  Taking her hand to his mouth, he nipped her. She flipped his hand back around and mimicked his gesture.

  Acceptance.

  His unexpected prize.

  His wife.

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for reading Unexpected Prize! It was a story that popped into my head while reading a shifter book. There I was…reading about lion shifters and my muse showed up and said, “stop what you’re doing, I’ve got a great idea.”

  Unexpected Hostage, Book 1, tells what happened to the Cerebral that had been kept unconcious because no one wanted him awake to attack them with his mental abilities.

  Ready for a sneak peek? Turn the page for the first chapter from Unexpected Hostage…!

  If you’d like more information about me or the Unexpected Series, you can find me at www.authorlaylastone.com, Facebook, Goodreads, Bookbub, Instagram, or Twitter. For alerts about new releases, please sign up for my Newsletter!

  Layla

  Unexpected Hostage

  Book 1

  Everyone says he's dangerous.

  Everyone is wrong.

  My new cabin-mate is a telepath and the whole ship’s scared of him. I was too, for about three seconds. He’s quiet, but once I get him talking he’s the most fascinating man I’ve ever known. He shouldn’t be in that cage. He didn’t do anything wrong. But good thing he is, because I would love to snuggle down for a long night with a body like his.

  Everyone thinks they're safe.

  Everyone is wrong.

  My race is known for being peaceful, and I was too…until I was electrocuted, kidnapped, sold, and then put in a cage. I’ll get out of here soon, but while I plot my escape, I’ll enjoy my cabin-mate’s attention. She thinks she has figured me out. She’s not even close.

  The ship is being attacked, a perfect diversion. There is only one problem…I want to take my cabin-mate with me.

  Turn the page for a sneak peek at Unexpected Hostage

  Chapter One

  The Cerebral

  Sci flinched when he saw a figure standing next to him as if he had been there for some time, but the male’s mind was quiet. Sci’s telepathy wasn’t picking up any of his conscious thoughts. It was as if there were a void in the air.

  Sci was used to a steady stream of consciousness. There was always a hum of noise. Now, nothing.

  The male looming over him, holding out a small, metallic object, studied him with a pair of dark brown eyes. “Good, You’re awake. I’m Ansel, a medical officer for the Federation.” Ansel tilted the object in his hand and spread his fingernails face forward.

  Purple fingernails.

  According to the Cerebral archives, which Sci worked in back on his planet, purple fingernails were found only i
n one race. Numans.

  Numans were an unmerciful race of scientists that experimented on everything and anything in their pursuit of knowledge. In several books he read, they had tortured their specimens, altered them, then would sell them to specialized buyers.

  They were known to hide within Federation space in ships redesigned into giant labs. They had no home planet. The one they had, Dilex, had become an unlivable toxic waste. Years of chemical warfare killed the majority of their population.

  When Sci was young he always hoped to meet another race, but he never wanted to meet this one.

  “Yes, I’m a Numan. I can see by your expression you know what that is. And it’s true, my race has been very cruel to all species over the years. However, I am the only Numan who is a Federation officer. Which means, I must follow proper protocols. Specifically when dealing with hostile species from the OutWorlds.”

  Hostile? Sci’s race was known for being harmonious. With themselves, at least.

  Sci attempted to sit up. His shoulders and chest elevated a fraction of an inch, but his wrists were secured to the slat he was lying on, preventing additional movement. He pulled harder, not because he thought he could free himself, but because something within him, an urgency, a need to be free, propelled his actions. He struggled in vain, tugging his limbs in random directions.

  Beside him, the Numan said, “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  Sci tried to connect with the Numan’s body. He imagined Ansel flying through the air into the far wall. To his dismay, the Numan didn’t move an inch.

  He tried again. Nothing.

  This time, Sci tried to send out a conscious wave of energy, something that should have sent the Numan, and everything within the room, flying back against the far wall.

  Once again, his ability failed him. He lost his composure and growled as he flailed relentlessly against the restraints. “Let me free. Now!” He could feel the metal digging into his wrists and ankles. The rawness and sensitivity of the wounds seared like fire through his limbs, but he wanted freedom more than he wanted his skin intact.

  The air felt constricting. The room was small with compartments of medical supplies held by translucent shelves.

  “I can’t let you go. I have to follow the Federation protocols.”

  Confused, Sci tried to remember the Federation protocols about Cerebrals. He was sure he had read them, but the knowledge refused to surface. Sci felt something cold and wet on his heel. “Stop.” The Numan didn’t stop, he held the top of Sci’s bare foot, keeping steady.

  The cold, steely fingers felt like a violation. Urgingly, Sci said, “Don’t touch me, Numan. It is not our way to touch freely.” His chest constricted, and his breathing became labored. “Stop. Stop.”

  He felt relief when the Numan released his foot and removed the wet compress. The reprieve was short-lived, however, as a foul taste coated his tongue, something akin to melted plastic. “What did you do to me?” Sci’s words were slow, and his jaw felt weighted down. The sides of the room faded and dimmed.

  “Like I said, you need to calm down. I just fixed all the cranial scars from when you were hit in the head by Sands, the cyborg.”

  Who?

  “I’d rather not have to do this all over again. Although, had you not attacked an entire crew of Rastos space pirates, you might not have been knocked out by a heavy-handed cyborg.”

  He hadn’t attacked the pirates. “I pushed them back,” Sci said. He had done so with a concussive wave. He’d woken up to them touching him. They had changed his clothes to tight-fitting ones that itched. He remembered everything as soon as he responded defensively to the Numan—the space pirates minds filled with fear. They’d attacked him with whatever weapon was closest. Knives, phasers, and even photon guns. One pirate, removed his belt to try to beat him with the buckle.

  “Yes, well, it was enough to scare the captain, and he sold you to the nearest place he could find. Which happened to be the gladiator planet called Angny. The same one, the crew and I were held captive on. Angny’s are a large dark grey race with large tusk like bottom teeth.”

  Angny. Sci knew that race too. A gladiator species. In the archives, they trained for battle. Fighting was a way of life. Sci considered them to be barbaric.

  However, he didn’t say any of that.

  “You were given to a male called the Chancellor, who owned a gladiator arena. According to Sands, the captain believed you would be killed. Used as fighting fodder.” The Numan waved his hand in the air a few times. “The point being, Captain bought Sands as a way to keep you unconscious because he was the only one who could keep knocking you out.” Ansel winced. “Do you remember any of that?”

  Did he remember being sold as a parcel? No.

  Cerebrals didn’t barter with other races. They were perfectly self-sufficient, but Sci had also read that other races did. Some sold beings as slaves. It was sad to read about males, females, and children being sold, but living that reality was much worse.

  “I’m a possession to this male? The Chancellor?”

  “No, he turned you into the Federation as a Luri. Do you know what that is?”

  Sci nodded. He did, and he took a deep, satisfied breath. The Federation paid a flat finder’s fee to those who turned in anyone who was kidnapped and sold against their will. Furthermore, they returned them to their proper home planet.

  “I’m going home.”

  The Numan scratched the back of his neck. “Not exactly. You’re a Cerebral, and they are forbidden in Federation space.”

  Sci blinked his heavy lids. Forbidden in Federation space.

  He should have remembered sooner.

  Sci recalled all of it in a series of snapshots. In summary, his kind was forbidden in Federation space because the Federation feared Cerebrals would turn everybody into mindless drones. Which was absurd. Sci’s race didn’t have that kind of ability. What they did have were two unique and powerful abilities: telepathic and telekinetic. It made all Cerebrals—at least according to the Federation—unbiddable and hostile.

  Ansel hovered a round medical device over Sci’s right temple. The instrument twittered and beeped as the medical officer moved it from the right side to the left. “The council will determine what happens to you. The benefit is that Sands’ testimony will confirm that you didn’t enter into our area intentionally, they found you in a lifepod, floating aimlessly in the OutWorlds space.”

  A lifepod? There was no way Sci would have been able to get inside a lifepod and eject it from the planet while he was unconscious. Which meant that someone—likely a Cerebral—had done it for him. And since Sci had been left to die in the vast darkness of space, he was not the original target. But if not him…could it have been his brother?

  His brother, Chollar, was secretive, impatient, and didn’t adhere to the edicts of the city leaders.

  The Elders must have used Sci to lure Chollar out.

  Attempting to take back control of his muted mind, Sci pushed against the restraints. “Why am I unable to use my telekinesis and telepathy?” There was no doubt the medical officer had given him something that bound his abilities.

  Ansel pulled a stray, chin-length lock of hair behind his ear and clasped his hands behind his back. “I inhibited your telekinesis with bacteria from Earth called botulism. Used judiciously, it becomes an effective muscle inhibitor. Your telepathic powers are still intact. But I was able to inhibit the frequency with which you receive others’ mental thoughts.” Ansel turned his head and tapped a circular, white disk on the back of his head near the top of the spine. “And there’s this. I’ve dubbed it the cerebral blocker.”

  Cold fear gripped Sci, causing his chest to seize and his breathing to quicken. His telekinetic ability was gone? Or damaged? It was like losing an appendage. Sci didn’t want to think about it, but he had to face the horror that one of his main abilities was…gone.

  He did his best to hide how unnerved he was a
t the physical violation, the perversion of something he held most dear, but Ansel’s tense stance and narrowed brows let him know Sci wasn’t fooling anyone. “Why?”

  Ansel folded his arms. “Protocol. I was tasked with removing the abilities that make you dangerous. I’m sure you don’t want to hear how I was able to isolate the area of your brain that controls your telekinesis.” He waited for a moment, and when Sci didn’t respond to this disturbing revelation, Ansel went on, “It’s beneficial that I was able to do so.”

  Before Sci could argue, his captor added, “If I hadn’t, my crewmates would have killed you outright. It would have been too dangerous for you to travel in space with the four of us.”

  Sci stared at the male who dared announce that he’d mutilated Sci’s mind. He was shocked that someone would do this to him. And humiliated to be stripped of his abilities. Back on his planet, he would be ostracized.

  A subtle snick echoed in the room. Sci turned and watched a tall, powerfully built Yunkin male stride in. Another Federation race easy to identify by their egg-shell white skin, and long matching white-silver hair. Five fingers and toes- humanoid features, but no one would know unless you cut into one, that their blood wasn’t red, but light grey.

  According to the archives, the Federation was created by the Terrans helping the other alien races to conform to living peaceably. When they encountered Krica, they were unable to get the planet to live under their rules.

  The Terrans, repulsed by the peculiar Krica race renamed them Demons. The Krica thought it was endearing and kept the name distinguishing themselves by their innate skills. Sci remembered reviewing the long list of Demons: Red, Night, Sex, Roth and many more.

  One planet conference turned into a war with a race the enjoyed chaos.

  Yunkins who esteemed order and honor hated the Krica enough to join the conflict, tipping the scales and winning the war. Yunkins didn’t stop there, they took over the Terran Federation, claiming the Terrans weren’t equipped with the ability to keep all the races in check. Hundreds of years had passed, and the Yunkins have been running it ever since.