May Northcott is a woman at the end of her rope. She’d almost gotten used to her employer, the ex-demon lord Magoth, spending his days hanging around her home and interrupting her private moments with her lover, Gabriel. Then trouble appears on her doorstep in the form of a nearly dead man.
With May fighting to control the dragon shard, Magoth wrangling to regain his position and powers, and a mysterious and deadly dragon bent on their destruction, Gabriel has his work cut out for him. Now he’ll have to claw his way through all the distractions and convince May that their love is strong enough to conquer all enemies.
Greetings to the mortals from the most heinous Magoth, (former) Prince of Abaddon, lord of untold legions, unholy smiter of good, plague upon the earth, evil personified, and once the greatest light to ever grace the silver screen.
One of the mortals at the company which oddly calls itself a Penguin demanded that I provide unto them a letter to readers. A letter! I snorted with disdain at such audacity. Imagine, they didn’t even offer me sacrifices! Where were the virgin souls, I ask you? Where was the groveling? Where were the pleading and begging, and more importantly, the writhing in pain and anguish? There was none. And yet they expect me, the seventh prince of Abaddon, to write a letter. I know that you, mortal though you might be, are as appalled by this as I am.
Mortals have gotten out of control, that’s all there is to it. I look forward to the day when my powers are rightfully restored to me, I can tell you. I shall unleash a plague of boils the like of which hasn’t been seen since last century when that fool Chicago newspaper reviewer said that my acting “could have been done better by my dog, which died three days ago.” Peasant.
So, this letter that I am to write. I suppose you mortals wish to know how my life has been in the last few months, since the last book in the epic saga of my life was published by that author Kallie somebody or other. I am, as I always have been, extremely fabulous. My nether regions are in as much demand as ever. My plans to turn the city of Paris into a nudist colony have been thwarted, but I am confident that once my powers are finally returned to me, that will change, and there will be massive, non-stop orgies in the streets. Ah, what fond memories that thought brings back…
Where was I? Nether regions: excellent. Plans: slightly delayed, but will be accomplished. This leaves my living arrangement. Alas, that is not all it should be. Namely, that scaly Gabriel and his designs upon my wife, the sweet and oh-so-delectable May. If only the dragon would see that my way—a threesome—is much, much better than selfishly hogging her to himself. But that’s what one can expect from dragons—they’re so possessive. Unreasonably so, I’ve always felt.
May herself seems bent on ignoring all hints I have made regarding my willingness to overlook Gabriel’s selfish ways, but I have hopes that she will one day see the light, and allow me to show her that there’s more to me than an extremely sexy body, and provocative penis tattoo.
There really are no other clouds blotting my horizon. Oh, to be sure, there is the little issue of Bael refusing to see me. I suspect my infernal intern, Sally, of plotting with him behind my back. Naturally, I can’t blame her for that, since it’s what I’d do in her shoes, but nonetheless, it rankles that Bael should be so threatened by my fabulous genitals, infinitely creative method for damning mortals, and of course, my film career, that he should continue to ban me from my rightful place in Abaddon. But really, all in all, my life holds the promise of much mortal tormenting, and lots and lots of sex, which is all a demon lord can ask.
With wishes for mayhem and crustified pustules to those who cross me,