HennessyTheAuthor

In a dangerous world where warlords rule, monsters roam, and treachery lurks behind every corner, there exists a mercenary known only as Dude.

No title, no fancy lineage—just Dude.

Women whisper his name in hushed tones. Men either want to hire him or kill him. He’s a walking contradiction—deadly, yet lazy; cocky, yet irresistibly charming; a warrior with the strength of ten men but a habit of forgetting his own plans mid-fight. He never says no to coin, danger, or a damsel in distress. And somehow, no matter how insane the odds, he always pulls through with a smirk on his lips and a blade in his hand.

But it’s not just his swordplay that’s legendary.

After the dust settles, the women he saves find themselves drawn to him—whether it’s the thrill of survival, the heat of the moment, or just the way his rough hands feel against their skin. And when they give in to the tension, the passion that follows is nothing short of earth-shattering.

Tales Of A Swordsman

Princess Celeste was furious. Kidnapped by the brutish warlord Harrik, she'd spent three days locked in the highest room of an old, crumbling tower, awaiting either marriage or death. She paced back and forth, plotting an escape that seemed increasingly impossible.

Suddenly, the window shattered, and through the jagged opening stumbled a man—disheveled, half-drunk, and grinning sheepishly.

"Who the hell are you?" Celeste demanded, staring at the strange intruder in disbelief.

He brushed bits of glass off his clothes casually. "Name's Dude. Sorry, wrong tower. You wouldn't believe how similar all these damn towers look."

Celeste blinked, mouth open in astonishment. "Wrong… tower?"

Before Dude could reply, guards burst into the room, weapons drawn. With a long-suffering sigh, Dude drew his sword. "Guess I better fix my mistake."

Celeste watched, mesmerized, as Dude fought like no man she'd ever seen. He parried with impossible ease, cracked jokes mid-swing, and even flirted with her as he dodged enemy blades.

"Enjoying the show, Princess?" he called, disarming a guard and sending him tumbling down the stairs.

"Just hurry up!" she snapped, despite her racing heart.

Dude grinned, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the window. "Trust me?"

"Not at all!" she retorted, yet she found herself clutching him tightly as they leaped through the broken window, landing safely on the hay wagon below.

They escaped into the woods, hiding in a small, abandoned cottage as darkness fell. Inside, Dude lit a fire, and Celeste found herself staring at him—the mercenary who had saved her life in the most infuriatingly reckless manner.

"You're impossible," she muttered, crossing her arms.

"You love it," Dude teased, approaching her slowly, eyes glinting mischievously in the firelight.

Celeste opened her mouth to protest, but his lips silenced her words, igniting an entirely new kind of fire. Her anger melted into desire as his hands found her waist, pulling her closer.

Every kiss was passionate, every touch urgent, leaving her breathless and craving more. By the time dawn arrived, she was utterly undone by the mercenary who had rescued—and claimed—her heart.

The Princess & The Mercenary