Alien Psycho – A Dark Possessive Alien Romance Read Online Loki Renard

Categories Genre: Alien, Dark, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)

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Alien Psycho - A Dark Possessive Alien Romance

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Loki Renard

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They say I’m crazy. (They’re not wrong.)
I’m a criminal. An outcast. A dangerous fugitive capable of anything. They must be insane to send a female human bounty hunter after me.
At half my size, and a fraction of my strength, she’s like a lamb to the slaughter. When she tracks me down in my icy lair, I could easily leave her to the elements.
But I take pity on her. I save her life. I make her mine.
She becomes my sweet human pet, my companion in the wilderness. I used to be crazy. Now I’m crazy for her.
And when my enemies try to hurt her? That’s when I show them what psycho really means.
Books by Author:

Loki Renard



“Scans indicate the planet's surface is one hundred kelvin.”

"What's that in people terms?”

“Either negative a hundred seventy-three point one five degrees Celsius or negative two hundred seventy-nine point six seven degrees Fahrenheit.”

“So it’s fucking cold.”

“Yes,” Computer agrees. “It is fucking cold.”

The machine learns from speaking to me. I’ve taught this computer more curse words in the last three weeks of space flight than I think it’s heard in the entire time it served the space marines who used to use it for special ops. I guess they had more discipline than I do. Or at least someone else on board to notice when their language deteriorated. I have neither.

I’m here because this bounty has the most zeroes I’ve seen in the entire time I've been a bounty hunter. Zeroes equal a reduction in the number of years I have to do this. You would not believe the payments on an ex-marine craft. A lot of zeroes, again.

I chase zeroes, not bounties. It’s never about the man, or the alien. It is always about the money.

“Alright, so. What makes this guy so dangerous.”

“He has killed over a hundred members of his species and countless others.”

“Oh, a murderer. Alright. Good to know. What's his profile?”


“Does he kill other adult males, or is he more the punching down kind of psycho?”


You can have the most advanced computer system in the known universe, and it will still drive you to the limits of your sanity from time to time.

“Subject is highly dangerous, absent of reality. Inclined to act erratically and without warning. Minimum team size recommended for takedown: 10.”

Remove a zero and I’m right on the money there.

“Alright, so a dead or alive?”

“Alive. If you kill him, there’s no money.”

“So they really want him breathing. He must know something. Or matter to someone. You wouldn’t think so, with all the murdering. That he would matter, I mean.”

“Would appear so.”

“I’m going to need a lot of sedatives and something to launch them with.”

“Sed-darts already loaded into your sniper rifle. Enough sedative to take down a herd of alien elephants.”

“You know me so well. Am I going to land or beam down?”

"Landing not recommended. There is a risk of spooking the target, and atmospheric conditions make it likely the ship will sustain water and freezing damage to core systems.”

Aw. She doesn’t want to be wet and cold. Fair enough.

“Environmental suit ready?”

“Ready and stocked. Small campsite with thermal barricading also on deck for transport. I will, of course, monitor you the entire time and transport if necessary.”

"Thank you. Well. I guess that's it.”

The ship initiates transport protocols with the phrase I programmed into her.

“Let’s fucking go.”

* * *


There's someone up there. I can't see them through the ice storms that ravage the planet’s surface nearly constantly, but I can feel them. I have been hunted from one side of the nebula to the other. I have killed too many times to remember. I have become the thing I swore I would never become, and I have had no choice in any of it.

Now another predator comes.

The energy signature of a transport is easy to spot when you know what you're looking for. Forcing atoms to rearrange themselves at short notice creates chaos in the local molecular community. Little subatomic entities who were busy being air are suddenly turned into a spleen or a gun. That leaves an unexpected vacuum in which the unexpected can and does occur.

This is not an effect that is often taken into account by the casual user. Most teleportation sites are atomically buffered to prevent chaotic results. But this is a wild planet, and here nature rules with a cruel and icy hand. I chose it for several reasons, and one of them was that the particular ionic makeup of the lower atmosphere does not tolerate transportation of that kind.

I hear a high-pitched scream as the incendiary material loses containment and flares. I am not close enough to see precisely what catches first, but I see the red flashes through the driving sleet.

It sounds like a woman's scream, I laugh to myself. This is not the first bounty hunter to burn up on transport, and it probably won't be the last. There's no documentation on the environmental phenomenon that causes one to be exploded and stabbed by the planet upon transport, because all those who transport are, well, exploded and stabbed.

Oh, wait. It’s a woman.

“What are they doing?” I growl the question to myself.

They’ve sent a woman to bring me in? A human female, judging by the number of limbs and the diminutive anatomy flailing about in the distance. For a moment, I wonder if I am witnessing some kind of an accident. Perhaps a lost researcher. No. There’s nothing to research on this planet, and certainly not alone.

Oh, well. That was that. Nobody survives transport…