Celenk (How the Aliens Were Won Book 5), page 1
CELENK
HOW THE ALIENS WERE WON
HONEY PHILLIPS
Copyright © 2024 by Honey Phillips
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author.
Disclaimer
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by Mariah Sinclair
Edited by Lindsay York at LY Publishing Services
Created with Vellum
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Other Titles
About the Author
CHAPTER 1
Lottie ducked around a fast-talking street vendor and slipped between two market stalls, almost colliding with a floating tray offering samples from a nearby bakery to bypassers. She rolled her eyes and wiggled past it. Although, she was willing to bet that most of the samples would be consumed by the beggars and pickpockets that frequented the market, it wasn’t any of her business - and they probably needed the food more than the colorful assortment of local residents, domestic servants, and crew members from the nearby spaceport who thronged the area.
A bell began to chime sonorously from the administrative building at one end of the market, an old-fashioned contrast to the large digital time display, and she swore under her breath as she tried to move even faster. She couldn’t afford to be late for her waitress job again. The tavern owner, Grisham, had already threatened to fire her the last time she was tardy. It wasn’t that she ever intended to be late - she prided herself on being a responsible person - but things always seemed to happen at the worst possible time.
The last time she’d been late it was because her neighbor Caralt had begged her to run and pick up a prescription for her sick daughter. This time it had been a tiny creature mewling pitifully in the alley next to her rundown apartment building. She’d finally located the fluffy ball of fur and found that its leg had been trapped in some debris. She had no idea what type of animal it was - probably an escapee from one of the spaceships - but she couldn’t leave it there. Once it calmed down enough for her to free its leg, it clung to her so tightly she thought she would have to carry it with her all day.
Instead, she snuck it back to her rooms, thankfully avoiding her landlady in the process - Mrs. Harper would not have approved. As she carried it upstairs, it kept trying to chew on her long brown braid, so she pulled out some of the leftovers she’d brought home. As it devoured everything she put down, she made a quick bed of towels, put down a bowl of water, and pushed a few boxes across the entrance to the tiny kitchen area. Hopefully it wouldn’t destroy anything before she could get home and figure out what to do with it.
The second bell chimed and her heart pounded anxiously as she wove around yet another food stall and turned down the street leading to the tavern. The bustle of the surrounding market faded into insignificance, drowned out by the thought of Grisham’s scowling face, but it came rushing back when a group of three men in faded uniforms ambled up the street towards her. She came to a jolting halt to keep from crashing into them, only to realize with a sinking feeling in her stomach that they were spaceport guards.
The spaceport attracted a rough element and the city of Port Cantor had resorted to hiring private security firms to patrol the area. The results were… mixed. Some of the guards took the job seriously; others considered it an opportunity to run their own little empires. These men stood out as being particularly intimidating. With their broad shoulders, muscular builds, and the swirling tattoos on their temples and arms, they looked like soldiers. Their presence certainly seemed to be affecting the market crowd, people hastily ducking away in an attempt to avoid attention.
Damn. She usually did a better job of staying aware of potential dangers but she’d been in such a rush that she hadn’t paid as much attention to her surroundings as she normally did. She considered fleeing too, but the alternative was to work her way back down the market to the next street over and that would take time. Grisham would definitely fire her if she didn’t show up soon and her rent was due tomorrow. Then what would she do?
After a lightning fast debate with herself, she bowed her head and hunched her shoulders as she edged as far away from them as possible. She was neither particularly young nor particularly attractive. Most likely they would ignore her.
She hadn’t taken more than two steps when a hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.
“What’s your hurry?” one of the spaceport guards said with an unwholesome leer on his narrow face. His eyes were fixed on her chest, and she realized with a sinking heart that age and beauty didn’t matter - the fact that she was female was enough for him. “Why don’t you join us for a while?”
“I can’t. I’m late for my job.”
She did her best to keep her voice low and calm, but when she tried to pull away from him, he just laughed and tightened his grip. His friends moved closer and she started to panic as she realized they were surrounding her. She cast a desperate look around, but everyone passing by was studiously avoiding looking in their direction.
“We’ll give you a job, ain’t that right, boys?” The man gripping her arm pulled her closer. “If you please us enough, we might even pay you for it.”
When she shuddered, he laughed again and turned his head to say something to one of the other men. As he did, his grip loosened slightly, and she took advantage of the momentary distraction, twisting her arm out of his grip. She darted around him and managed to gain a couple of yards before the three recovered from their surprise enough to give chase.
Her heart racing in her chest, she dodged past a trio of startled shoppers and cut through the middle of the street, almost colliding with a cart piled high with fruit. The driver yelled and tried to avoid her but the wheel of the cart caught on the ragged pavement and started to tip, the mountain of oranges and apples tumbling across the street. Shouts and curses filled the air behind her but she didn’t look back.
A quick duck down an alleyway, around a corner, and then she was through the backdoor of the tavern. She slammed it behind her, leaning back against it as her heart pounded frantically. Samta looked up from where he was lazily stripping the legs off the small crustaceans native to Cresca and shook his head.
“You got a death wish, girl? Grisham’s on the warpath already. Tax collector came by this morning,” he added and she groaned as went to hang up her cloak and fetch her apron.
Grisham hated tax collectors even more than he hated everyone else and he was going to be in an even fouler mood than usual.
“Tell him you were helping me,” he added and she gave him a brief, startled smile.
Although she’d been working in the tavern for almost a year now, they weren’t exactly friends. None of the employees were - not only because Grisham strongly discouraged it but because most of them didn’t last long enough for more than a casual acquaintance. Samta was the only one who had been here when she arrived and was still here. A lanky Caradan with pale green skin and long white hair, he was nonchalant enough not to react to Grisham’s outbursts - and he was an excellent cook.
She’d lasted because she worked hard, kept her head down, and didn’t complain. Something shriveled inside her each time Grisham dumped another litany of insults on her head but his tavern was one of the few that was just that - a tavern, not a thinly disguised brothel. He only paid her a minuscule wage but the tips were enough to get by on, and it wasn’t as if she had a lot of marketable skills. Caring first for her elderly grandparents and then for her worthless ex-husband had left her ill-prepared for life on her own. At least he was finally out of her life, even if he had taken her small inheritance with him.
Still, she was grateful for the job. She’d managed to clear the rest of her ex’s debts and with any luck she’d be able to save enough to take some type of training course - as long as Grisham didn’t fire her.
As if her thoughts had conjured him up, Grisham came barreling through the swinging door separating the kitchen from the bar. He was a big brute of a man with ham-sized fists and a perpetually red, scowling face.
“Godsdammit, you’re late again. I won’t put up with it, I tell you. And what the hell are you doing back here?”
“Just helping me with some lunch prep, boss,” Samta responded before she could open her mouth. “When are you gonna hire someone to replace Jarvis?”
Grisham opened his mouth to blast the cook, then thought better of it. Samta wouldn’t care what he said and despite his irascible temper, Grisham wasn’t fool enough to fire him. Instead he rounded on her again.
“I don’t pay you to hang around in the kitchen. Get out front and start on the silverware.”
Too grateful that he hadn’t fired her to protest that it was already done, she scurried out of the kitchen. The bar had opened earlier and a few of the regulars were already staring down at their beers. Even at this hour the tavern was dark, the wooden walls stained almost black by years of smokestick fumes. Only a few dim lights penetrated the gloom. Grisham claimed it was for atmosphere, but she knew it was because he was too cheap to turn them up - and probably reluctant to reveal the overall dinginess resulting from years of neglect.
Nate, the bartender, jerked his chin at her without any great degree of enthusiasm. He was a good-looking man a few years older than her and he’d put the moves on her when he first arrived. She might even have fallen for it if she hadn’t held him off long enough to realize that he used the same lines on every unaccompanied female customer.
She nodded back and the day fell into its usual rhythm - a handful of regulars mixed with a steady flow of customers from the spaceport, most of them crew members off the ships that landed there and quite a few of them aliens. Cresca was a colony planet and outside of Port Cantor, it was primarily populated by humans. Even in the city, humans tended to associate with other humans, but Grisham wouldn’t turn down anyone with a pulse and a purse full of credits - and the first was definitely less important than the second.
As a result, the alien who entered late that afternoon shouldn’t have caught her attention. He was big - a head taller than Grisham - with wide shoulders and an impressively muscled chest beneath a tight-fitting shirt. He clearly had reptilian ancestry; his features unfamiliar but not displeasing. He was hairless, his skin covered with shimmering golden scales marked with a copper pattern. She watched in fascination as a thickly muscled tail flicked behind him as he strolled over to a table in the far corner.
“Get over there, you stupid woman,” Grisham hissed, pinching her arm painfully, and she realized she was still staring at the stranger.
Blushing, she hurried over to take his order. He looked up when she approached and their eyes met. Her heart skipped a beat when she met that piercing blue gaze and once again she found herself staring. Not human eyes, she thought absently as the slit pupils started to dilate, then a corner of his mouth curved up to reveal very white, very sharp teeth.
“Did you plan to give me that?”
He had a deep voice, cool and slightly mocking, and she winced as she realized she was still clutching the plas sheet with the menu. Her cheeks burning, she handed it over, their fingers almost touching.
“Do you want something to drink while you’re looking?”
“Ale. Whatever you have on tap.”
“Yes, sir.”
As she started back across the room to the bar, the door opened. She looked over automatically and her stomach clenched. It was the three guards from the street. Maybe they won’t recognize me, she thought optimistically, but then the leader caught sight of her and grinned. It wasn’t a happy expression.
“Well look who we have here, boys. The little bitch who caused such a mess earlier.”
Ignoring the protests from the half a dozen patrons in the way, they shoved through the tables towards her. She tried to edge back behind the bar but misjudged the distance and ended up against the wall. Her heartbeat sped up as the three of them surrounded her, leaving no room for escape this time.
“We have some unfinished business,” the leader snarled. “The vendor filed a complaint and the boss ain’t happy. You owe us.”
“I can give you my tips,” she said quickly. It was all she had, but maybe that would satisfy them.
“Tips from working in this dump? We don’t want your pitiful credits. We want something else.”
The implication in his voice was clear, and when his gaze dropped to her breasts she felt physically sick. She tried to peer past him, searching for help. Nate was concentrating on polishing a glass and refusing to look in her direction. It was almost a relief to see Grisham stomping out of the back. He opened his mouth, then took in the guards’ uniforms. His scowl darkened, but then he turned on his heel and returned to the kitchen. Oh, God.
One of the guards had seen Grisham, and he elbowed the leader, jerking his head towards the kitchen.
“Better take it out of here. There’s an alley round back.”
The look on his face made her stomach churn even more, then she yelped as the leader suddenly jerked her against his body, twisting her arm behind her. Tears of pain filled her eyes.
“You’re hurting me!” She tried to twist free, but he wasn’t making the same mistake again, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh as he jerked her arm higher. “Stop it! Let me go!”
A shadow fell across the guard’s face and he jerked around, still holding onto her arm. The golden stranger stood there. He appeared at ease but even Lottie could sense the danger rolling off of him as he smiled in a way that did not look friendly at all.
“Walk away,” the guard snarled. “If you’re interested in the woman, you can have her when we’re finished with her but we’re going to play first.”
The alien’s smile widened, showing those very sharp teeth.
“I am afraid that won’t be possible. Let her go and leave. Now.”
One of the other guards tried to pull the leader aside.
“No need to get in a fight for a piece of ass. Boss won’t like it.”
“I don’t fucking care. I’m taking her with me and no godsdammed alien is gonna stop me.”
“Wrong answer.”
The alien stepped forward, grasped the leader by the neck, and pulled him away from her in one smooth, rapid motion. She stared, frozen in place, as he tightened his grip on the guard’s neck. The guard gasped, clawing at the stranger’s arm, but it was like a child trying to overcome an adult. The two other guards started to rush in but the alien extended an almost casual hand, throwing the first guard to the side, sending him crashing into a nearby table. A split second later the third guard was slammed against the wall, crumpling into an unmoving heap on the floor.
“Let me go,” the leader begged, and the alien smiled again.
“You didn’t listen to her. Why should I listen to you?”
She watched in horror as claws emerged from the alien’s fingertips, digging into the leader’s neck as blood started to trickle from the wounds. He’s going to kill him, she realized, her stomach sinking. As much as the guard had terrified her, she couldn’t bear it if someone died because of her.
“Please - let him go.”
“Why shouldn’t I kill him?”
He almost sounded curious, but the dangerous note in his flat, cold voice made her wince.
“Because I asked you not to. You don’t want his death on your conscience, do you?”
The noise that came from his throat couldn’t be considered a laugh.
“It’s far too late for that, my flower.”
Despite his words, he let the guard drop to the ground. The man choked and held his hand to his throat. He glared up at the alien, but at least he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut as he crawled over to the guard who’d been slammed into the wall.
Now that it was over, Grisham came storming out of the back. He looked at the alien, calmly examining his blood stained claws, at the three injured guards, and then at her, his face mottled with rage.
“That’s it. I’ve had enough of this bullshit. You’re fired.”
CHAPTER 2
Celenk watched as the little human waitress slumped in defeat. Wasn’t she going to argue? It wasn’t her fault that those bastards had threatened her, and the owner certainly hadn’t shown any signs of intervening. Although he would have preferred not to be involved, he couldn’t let those three males drag her away.
“She didn’t ask to be attacked,” he said when she remained silent.
“I don’t fucking care - and neither will they when they recover. There’ll be a target on my back as long as she’s here. I want her gone. Now. And you too.”
The owner’s bluster faded a little when Celenk stared at him, but he clearly wasn’t going to back down. Frek.
