My Big Alien Boss – Alien Love Read Online Loki Renard

Categories Genre: Alien, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
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“Wow,” I breathe. “What’s your name again?” I feel a little fuzzy. Details are fleeing my mind as fast as I try to remember them.

“Arlo,” he says patiently.

“Arlo, this is the best thing I have ever tasted in the entire time I have had the sense of taste. It’s making me weak at the knees.”

“Good,” he smiles. “Enjoy it. Your time here should be an oasis away from the cares of the world you came from. The Cupid are focused on pleasure and happiness for all beings.”

“I like your style,” I say, taking another sip. It tastes different this time. It tastes even better than it did the first time. It’s as though having satisfied my initial cravings, the beverage is now finding new needs and fulfilling those instead. I follow Arlo while I drink, sipping and tasting new flavors every time. If I’m not mistaken, this beverage is sating my hunger as well as my thirst, and possibly healing some deep-seated abandonment wounds as well.

“Wow! This is fucking amazing!”

“This is Cir Fabian,” Arlo says. He has led me into what I suppose must be an office without me even noticing we were walking. There’s a lot to be distracted by here. Every facet of every wall dances and shimmers and moves in a way that seems to have meaning, and yet also mean absolutely nothing at all.

Here we go. Time to meet the boss. I look up with what I hope is a professional smile, but I feel my jaw slacken as my mouth hangs open.

Cir Fabian is even more attractive than Arlo, something I would not have said was possible. I don’t know if it’s the beverage, the effect of being off my planet lowering my inhibitions, or if he’s just so good looking my brain short circuits on sight, but the next words out of my mouth are far from professional.

“Holy fuck!”

Cir Fabian is six foot five, shines like an iridescent gem, and has the best hair I’ve seen in a long time. It gleams with a golden hue, swept over his forehead like a wave. So cool. I kind of wish my hair looked like that. Instead, it is swept back from my head to create the illusion, I hope, of a person who knows science.

His bone structure is immensely appealing. He has a strong jaw, a straight nose, and wide, expressive eyes capped with strong brows. His cheekbones make me want to rut myself against his face. I have this intense, visceral reaction to his presence that makes me almost forget Arlo exists.

“This is Jessica Lange,” Arlo says. “She’s here to interview for the position of your assistant, Cupid-Human liaison.”

I am very grateful for him reminding me why I am here, though he ostensibly does it for Cir.

Arlo sweeps the beverage out from my hand as I reach out to shake Cir’s hand. It’s fortunate he does that, because I think I would have otherwise thrown it all over Cir in a sort of aroused daze.

“Sorry about the language. I’m usually more professional,” I say.

My hand is grasped between two large alien hands. They are warm and slightly textured. A pulse of energy moves from them and into me, a bolt of kindness and welcome. I feel as though he has greeted me without saying a word.

I stand, and I stare. Again. There’s a lot to stare at here.

Cir is wearing human business attire to make his interviewees comfortable, I guess. But there’s only so far even the best suit can go to hide the fact that the massive glowing beast in front of me is just that. He's alien. All of him. His eyes shine with iridescence, taking on all the colors of the universe as they flash at me. I could melt under that gaze.

I have to keep my wits about me. This interview could change my life. It’s important that I stay focused, and most of all, professional.

“Come and sit down,” Cir says, gesturing to a chair nearby. I do as I am told. The chair is set in front of a desk that looks incredibly incongruous because it appears to be made of solid oak. It would be a very nice desk anywhere on Earth, but up here, in this realm of shimmering walls and floors that pulse with light and energy, it looks a bit too solid and stable, like it might fall through everything else at a moment’s notice.

Arlo puts my drink back down on the desk in front of me. I have a brief flash of anxiety about not having a coaster, but of course it doesn’t need a coaster in this alien paradise.

I sip my beverage to calm my nerves as I sit down, and find that the drink once more knows precisely the tastes I require to achieve such an effect. Marvelous.


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