The Alien Warrior King's Accountant - Loki Renard Page 0,2
may as well face it head on. There’s a small chance that if I go ahead and open it, it turns out to be mistaken identity and I get to go back to sleep for a few more hours.
I go to the door, adrenaline pounding, and throw it open.
“WHAT!?”
I snap the word into the general lower chest / upper stomach area of a very tall creature who has stopped pounding his massive fist against my door now that I’ve opened it. I see a flash of scale and claw and the further tirade I had stored up to deploy at whatever madman or woman who was assaulting my door dies on my lips.
It’s an alien.
A really tall alien. An alien so large that I can’t actually see anything above his nose. That’s okay. That’s actually more than okay. What I can see is more than enough. He’s tall. Tall in the way that puts my nose somewhere near his, er, lower midsection.
I am not very tall, even compared to most humans. The height disparity here is frankly hilarious. Or would be if standing in front of him didn’t count as a lewd act.
He stoops down a little and his full visage comes into view. It is as weird as I expected it to be, and insanely handsome besides.
“Are you the human Tania McMillan?” He speaks with a voice which sounds like freshly molten earth settling into cooled rock. He is tectonic and impressive, he is ancient and yet young, and vital.
“Uhhhhhh…”
I’m usually so much more eloquent than this, but there’s something about being confronted by the super fucking hot embodiment of everything I ever thought was a conspiracy, a lie, or the realm of crazy people which makes me linguistically inept.
He takes up the entirety of my doorframe, and most of the hall. I’ve never seen anything so large in humanoid form, though he is pushing the boundaries of what might properly be called humanoid.
Two arms. Two legs. A head. And… a tail? There’s something swishing behind him, I think. It’s hard to tell because I can’t take my eyes off that face. It is handsome, highly symmetrical, and very alien. His jaw is broad and square, much like his brow. His eyes are two sharp creases beneath that brow ridge, which juts out enough to cast a shadow over them until he lifts his head, and then I am treated to an iridescent gaze which is so beautiful that for a moment I forget where I am, who I am, and that this is an alien I am looking at.
He doesn’t have hair, but he isn’t bald. Instead of bothering with hair, his skull sweeps up into a sharp fin type arrangement. Like a mohawk, but one gleaming sharp-looking scale.
You could call him a shark alien, because he has scales and fish have scales, but fish alien does not sound sexy and this guy exudes sexual energy from every dragon scale on his body. I don’t think he really fits into earth categories of animals. I think he is one monstrous entity all of his own design.
My gaze drops and I become all the more aware of those massive shoulders, and that powerful torso which is scaled and likewise iridescent. He shines like a nebula, one whose deep black pants cover parts of his anatomy which I find myself very curious about.
He is half-dressed, but that is half more than me. I mean, I’m not naked, but I’m in my pajamas. And by pajamas, I mean a stained, oversized t-shirt and men’s boxers because that style was briefly in ten years ago, and I’m still into it now. I don’t have a lot of call for fancy sleepwear. There’s not been anyone to see me in it for a long time.
“I am Tyrant, King of Apocalypse. Ender of worlds. Destroyer of empires. And you… are my accountant.”
He introduces himself with great gravitas and a kind of elegance which does nothing to diminish his powerful demeanor. He’s sort of like a big, scaled regency king.
I’m still trying to work out what to say and what to do. This is real. 100% real. I was warned about this. I was supposed to be ready for this. But I’m not ready in any sense of the word.
“Yes,” I say. “Mr. Rogers told me to expect you. Uhm. Okay. Let me… let me get a few things…”
King Tyrant (did I heard that word correctly?) makes an impatient sound and shakes his finned head