How to Please an Alien Read online

  Sometimes you just need a touch to be seduced.

  Once hired by the Mawanies, Kianto is a servant for love and lust. Yet the alien rule contains more than meets the eye. Will Kianto solve the mystery and find his love for life?

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  How to Please an Alien

  Copyright © 2013 Ann Raina

  ISBN: 978-1-77111-472-1

  Cover art by Angela Waters

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by eXtasy Books

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  How to Please an Alien

  By

  Ann Raina

  To my muse with the prospect of more wonderful afternoons with coffee and cookies.

  Chapter One

  The falling rain was the only sound in the darkening alley.

  Deran waited in the drizzle, snuffling and hoping that his patience would pay off. The rain fell constantly, obscuring his view when it intensified. A woman rushed past, her bare feet silent on the drenched soil. He feared to miss the object of his interest if he left his hideout, but did not dare getting closer out of fear of being detected. He knew the rain would stop sooner or later as it always did, but by then it might be too late. He changed position from one foot to the other, exhaling.

  A shadow emerged from the entrance of the building across the path and Deran stood up straight, forgetting that his lanky figure might show. The arriving man had broad shoulders, was tall as a tree and as nimble as a fresh sprig, as Deran knew from his former observation. His black hair was already covered with pearls of raindrops as he pulled up the hood of his cloak, obscuring his clean-shaven face. Only his prominent nose was still visible. He looked left and right, dark brown eyes reflecting the meager light of a covered lantern close to the wooden gate. Apparently satisfied he was alone, the young man walked at a brisk step to the right, past small huts that got smaller the farther he moved away, leaving the village behind.

  Grinning, Deran followed him on light feet, now grateful for the curtain of rain.

  Three times a day rain fell on Rahenia. It was never a downpour that would swell rivers and flood huts and homes, but a constant drizzle that the soil welcomed like a girl welcomed her lover’s kiss.

  Deran had learned at school that his home planet had been hit by a meteor centuries ago. It was pushed into another orbit with a deep crack in the middle, and the climate had changed. Sunshine and rain came in constant intervals, warming the planet without heating it up. The rain nourished vegetables, fruits and corn to a degree that four to five harvests around the Rahenian year were nothing out of the ordinary. No man or animal had to starve, and the people were peaceful besides the usual quarrels about wine, wives and who had the best breeders, men and animals alike. They shared the harvests and the animals they herded and lived a simple and content life.

  Until the Mawanies arrived.

  Watchers of the clan’s people had reported unusual sightings in the sky and then, all of a sudden, objects of huge diameter had landed amid a field of corn, scaring away brave farmers and souring milk, as observers had reported.

  Deran went faster, hands in the pockets of his tunic. Whenever the man in front of him looked back over his shoulder, he vanished behind a trunk and waited to follow him again. He did not even know his name, but the sport of being the pursuer of someone interesting had kept him occupied over the last several days. Since the village’s only teacher had vanished without a trace, he had had nothing else to do.

  Deran’s teacher had told the pupils that at first the Mawanies had offered gifts for fruits, vegetable and meat. The peasants, in their friendliness and being unafraid of the new guests, had begun a lively and curious exchange of goods to collect small, shiny items without use but beautiful to look at. With the next ship arriving from somewhere beyond the stars, Mawany traders had come and erected huts and houses. They told the Rahenians they needed coin to buy things, and the farmers had traded grain for coins to buy items from the traders, happy like kids presented with new toys. After a season even more Mawany ships had arrived and the peaceful exchange had turned ugly.

  Only much later had the Rahenian people learned that the planet of the invaders had been a desert for a long time and that they desperately needed clean water and food. Most of the inhabitants of the ruined planet had fled and were scattered throughout the solar system in search of new colonies. Leaders, warriors and women looked desperately for new grounds to start a family. Rahenia was a gift, a pleasure planet and, not the least, a place easy to rule.

  More and more Mawany ships filled the sky, dispatching troops to secure areas for landing zones, barns and homes. They erected their own government, built palaces and brought vehicles and other machines, some to enhance the harvest, some to speed up communication with other planets within reach.

  Deran’s father said that if you were a field worker these days you had food to feed your family, but if you wanted more and a good job you needed to work for the invaders to get some coin. Then he had spat on the ground and praised the heroes that had tried to chase them away.

  Deran stopped, squinting. For the third night in a row, the young man passed a Mawany guard at the gate to one of the palaces the invaders had erected where once a field had been. The Mawany guard nodded briefly and stared at the impressive back of the young man before returning to his task and looking bleakly at the small forest in front of him.

  Deran watched the young man disappear, curious like only a boy of thirteen moons and stars could be. This night, he told himself, he would be even bolder than before. He turned and moved silently through the growing darkness before the guard realized that someone else was there.

  Security was a joke. When he had been a boy, Deran and his friends had climbed walls for sports—now he passed security measures like any young villager who had more brain cells than a toad. Mawany guards were slow-witted, lazy, and above all, tolerant when it came to the youth. They threw those few out they caught, but never harmed them. To Deran, those stupid toads deserved to be thrown on their butts.

  He worked through the thick flower bushes the Mawanies had planted to watch the young man climb up a flight of stairs. Mawany architecture had brought large, lofty buildings to Rahenia. Where the farmers had small huts made of thin wood and straw roofs, the Mawanies built high and airy houses that seemed to float above ground and ignore gravity. The stairs were a gift to the Rahenians to enter. The Mawanies jumped higher than the trees were tall. Deran remembered how utterly frightened he had been on his first sighting of this ability. Though the aliens faintly resembled human beings when it came to head, arms, body and legs, their sporting abilities were beyond grasp. Deran had watched them jump over huts and trees just for fun, tweeting and chirping in their language. Right now, one of the female Mawanies came across the garden with long, swinging steps. D
eran froze where he was and huddled.

  The female Mawany had long, muscular legs, tiny feet with elongated toes—eight of them, he counted—and a slim torso with strong arms attached to wide shoulders. Eight fingers on each hand classified her as one of the more powerful of this species, Deran had learned. More fingers and toes meant that Mawany to be higher in hierarchy, and of those living in this palace, all had at least seven fingers on each hand.

  He knew the one to be female because of the smaller head and fine, silken hair that appeared to fly around and only settle when the Mawany stood still. Her whole body was covered with honey-colored, leathery skin, with scales on the back and shoulders that shimmered in different colors in the light coming from inside the palace. Her face gave Deran the creeps. The eyes were round and large with heavy, two-fold lids, the nose just two small nostrils she could open and close at will, and a small-lipped mouth filled with pointed teeth. Every time a Mawany bared those teeth, Deran wondered if it meant joy or threat.

  The boy shrank deeper into the undergrowth when her eyes turned in his direction. He held his breath, not knowing if she might see him. Though he longed to know more about this race, he wanted to stay an observer and not become part of their strange society. Or, to be precise, he still wondered if it would be worth it. Some of his people said the invasion had been dreadful, some others whispered behind closed doors that the invaders brought riches no one had seen before. A small group even admired the Mawanies like gods and hoped they would lead the rural inhabitants of Rahenia into a brighter future. All of them had to admit that the Mawanies had brought medicine to Rahenia that was worth tons of grain. During an epidemic of a lethal illness the Mawanies had helped and saved hundreds of Rahenian lives.

  The Mawany jumped into the palace and let out a shriek. Deran hoped it was playful surprise and not a cry of war.

  * * * *

  The Mawanies had not simply invaded Rahenia, but had learned all there was to know about its people. It took them a harvest season to understand the language and get a grip on the rites, religion and festivities. They were able to please and flatter, to charm and tease and find ways to make one smile. Skeptics had said that it was because the language was as easy as living on Rahenia, but the more educated pointed out that they were dealing with a species that had crossed from one star in the sky to another and had to be by far more intelligent. Learning a language had not been a challenge.

  In the beginning the invasion was a peaceful overtaking and the Rahenians, content with food and their simple lives, let them take what they wanted, used to sharing with their neighbors. They even offered new cross-bred vegetables and were happy when praised. Some villages went into competitions about how to please the aliens best, and the Mawanies were quick to learn that it was best to praise both parties to avoid brawls and pitching duels with rotten heads of cabbage among the competitors.

  It was a bitter surprise when the Rahenians found out too late to react that the invaders planned to trade tons of goods with other planets, including transports to their old home. That left less and less for the Rahenians and their families though they still worked hard.

  The first riot with hayforks and sticks ended with bloody noses. The Mawanies were too sly to kill farmers who worked for them. They only told them their place and let them know that there was no way to chase them off. More machines were brought to Rahenia, some of which were used to protect the invaders against all too brave farmers.

  The second riot brought forth Hanjek, a fighter, a trickster, a thief and a clever leader.

  Hanjek’s resistance called many men to his cause, mostly young ones who saw their parents work and still live worse than before. Hanjek fed their anger with intelligent speeches, with ideas and inventions. They trained in sabotage, erected hidden camps and made plans for attacks. They succeeded in angering the Mawanies, but, in the end, they could not break the invasion. Hanjek and his companions were caught one by one and never seen again.

  Deran knew all the heroic stories about Hanjek and the Ferocious Five, who had even destroyed one of the bigger spaceships by pouring fruit juice in their machines. The height of the smoke column after the explosion grew by the telling.

  Since then, the Rahenians had not attempted another riot, and Mawany security had dropped to a minimum again.

  Cautiously, Deran crept closer, thinking of Hanjek and playing the mind game of how he would win and force the invaders to leave the planet before the vinti-fruits were ripe. He had no trouble climbing the roughhewn trunks that held the structure up. Once safely up to the first floor, he squatted to have a look at what was going on inside.

  Two female Mawanies talked with each other in their language that consisted of tweeting, chirping and purring sounds. The latter was meant to be laughter, but Deran was not sure. He knew little of the language and less of the strange habits. No one had ever made an effort to teach the Rahenians the language of their invaders and only bit by bit did the people gain an understanding. The Mawanies were not pleased that the peasants learned it, but the workers close to them caught some meaning here and there and taught it to their families. Slowly but persistently, the foreign language became more understandable.

  While the two females lifted shining pieces of cloth to cover their slim alien bodies, obviously choosing what to wear tonight, Deran heard the words fun, new, male and excitement. At last the word Rahenian was clear.

  A shiver crept up his spine. There were rumors about Mawany habits of entertainment and even more stories about indescribable cruelties, especially after Hanjek and his men had disappeared.

  Deran left his position to move around the building. It was easier than climbing a tree and his soft shoes made no sound. In a way, he liked the new palaces, as strange as they were. The rooms were high and bright with light coming from undetectable sources. Furniture with long sides and pointy edges competed with tables of a shining material that changed patterns every few seconds. Once he had fallen in a trance just watching the swirling motion. Luckily, he had awakened before a Mawany had caught him, or he’d have been one of the toads thrown out.

  Along the small balcony, he swiftly reached the other end of the building to find the young man sitting on the floor. Deran gasped and quickly held his breath. It was too late. The young man had heard him and lifted his head.

  “Who are you?”

  Deran’s throat was too constricted to answer. He stared at the thick wooden chains that wound around the man’s wrists and ankles. They looked heavy. And if that was not enough, the man was naked and the chains were connected to a ring in the floor. The boy wanted to look away and could not. He swallowed dryly, full of fear.

  “What are you doing here?” The young man’s voice was low and urgent. “How did you get here? Hey, don’t you have a voice?”

  “I…I am…” Deran licked his lips. He felt hot and cold and positively ill. “Is that what happened to Hanjek?” he blurted. “Did they catch you? I…I want to help. How can I…?”

  “Peace, boy, breathe.” The young man frowned. “I’m no captive. I applied for a job.”

  “A job?” Deran felt hysterical laughter welling up in his throat like bubbly juice when it was overdone. “How’s this a job?”

  The young man smiled amiably.

  “That is a good question, at last. I came here to apply for a job as a servant and they offered me this.” The chains clanked dully when he lifted his hands. “Well, it is a kind of service. At least, that is what they’ve said so far.”

  Deran was still so hot he thought his hair would take fire. Neglecting caution, he crept closer, his eyes wandering between the tethered man and the entrance on the other side, far away.

  “You wanted to be bound like this?”

  “It’s part of the training. So, yes.” He cocked his head. “You are the boy traveling at my heels.”

  “Not your heels, exactly, but…yes.”

  “Well, you were not that bad. Not good enough, either. You should try to avoi
d hasty movements even if it’s dark. By the way, I’m Kianto.”

  Deran recalled enough courtesy to tell him his name.

  “Welcome, boy named Deran,” Kianto replied with a curt bow. “Why did you follow me?”

  “I…” Doing it seemed much easier than explaining his motive. After all, there was no real reason to be here. He had just been unoccupied. He would have felt better if he had had a real reason to present. “I thought this would be fun.”

  “But you don’t look like you found some fun.”

  Deran swallowed, feeling even more stupid than a toad.

  “I hoped to see what you do here, but…”

  “But you expected me to carry food for the aliens, right?”

  “Something like that, maybe.” He cast his eyes down.

  “And you truly hoped to see me fail and stumble, scattering their bread on the floor?” When Deran did not answer, Kianto sighed. “They don’t pay grand for just carrying stuff around. And not for throwing it, anyway. There are some servants who are well paid, so I heard. And now…I’m not sure. There was no talk about payment yet. They say they would test me before they decide.”

  “Test?” Deran croaked. “Do you know what’s on their alien minds?”

  “Alien minds!” Kianto chortled. “No, honestly, the last two meetings were as simple as that. Just being here for them to look at, no cloth in between. They came and went and then they sent me off again.” He shrugged. “Who can tell how their alien minds work, ey?”

  Deran was not convinced. In his mind, he saw Mawanies with eyes like saucers staring at Kianto to decide which part they would rip out first. He still wondered what had become of Hanjek and his friends. The old men in his village growled that the Mawanies had cut them up to see what they thought or that they were flayed and eaten. Some even claimed to have seen Hanjek put to question by ten Mawanies and that he had been divided in equal parts when he did not yield and answer their questions.