Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were. He decided that if there weren't queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.

A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and is the committee chair for the Indie Authors Committee at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA).

The Dragon Eater by J. Scott Coatsworth

Scott has been on the Amazon bestseller lists for LGBTQ+ sci fi a number of times, and has won multiple Rainbow Awards for his books. He has published ten novels and is the chairman of the SFWA Indie Authors Committee.

Raven's a thief who just swallowed a dragon. A small one, sure, but now his arms are growing scales, the local wildlife is acting up, and his snarky AI familiar is no help whatsoever.

Raven's best friend Aik is a guardsman carrying a torch for the thief. A pickpocket and a guard? Never going to happen. And Aik's ex-fiancé Silya, an initiate priestess in a magical crisis, hates Raven with the heat of a thousand suns.

This unlikely team must work together to face strange beasts, alien artifacts, and a world-altering threat. If they don't figure out what to do soon, it might just be the end of everything.

Things are about to get messy.



  • "The only thing wrong with this book is that it ended. Scott Coatsworth has produced an adventure that is a rich mélange of science fiction and fantasy, creating the world of Tharassas and its denizens with vivid detail... It's going to be hard to wait for book two. Five stars."

    – Ulysses, Liminal Fiction
  • "The story and characters dragged me into Tharassas where I could happily stay, exploring an alien world! It felt like a distant cousin of Pern, with lots of ancient history to explore and overcome. I am looking forward to the whole Tharassas cycle - get writing! (I could read more slowly...)"

    – Christine Fernie, Amazon
  • "I love it! I was engaged from the first page, love the world-building, the characters, the lurking mystery, the bits of magic, the AI, all of it."

    – Author Timothy Bult
  • "Scott has one of the most vivid imaginations of any writer I know. His worlds are fully realized and populated with unique and somewhat weird creatures, and his blend of science fiction and fantasy work really, really well... fun and engaging, while still being serious with high stakes. A great escape read. Recommended."

    – Jaime L. Voss



Spin's voice echoed in his ear. "This is a bad idea, boss." "Shush," Raven whispered to his familiar.

He needed to concentrate. Cheek and jowl against the smooth cobblestones, he held his breath and prayed to the gods that no one had seen him duck under the sea master's ornate carriage. The setting sun cast long shadows from a pair of boots so close to his face that the dust and leather made him want to sneeze. Their owner was deep in conversation with the sea master, the hem of her fine mur silk trousers barely visible. The two women's voices were hushed, and he could only make out the occasional word.

Raven rubbed the old burn scar on his cheek absently, wishing they would go away.

"Seriously, boss. I'm not from this world, and even I know it's a bad idea to steal from the sea master."

Though only he could hear Spin's voice, Raven wished the little silver ay‐eye would just shut up.

The hencha cloth-wrapped package in the carriage above was calling to him. He'd wanted it since he'd first seen it through the open door. No, needed it. Like he needed air, even though he had no idea what was inside. He scratched the back of his hand hard to distract himself from its disturbing pull.

An inthym popped its head out of the sewer grate in front of him, sniffing the air. Raven glared at the little white rodent, willing it to go away. Instead, the cursed thing nibbled at his nose.

Raven sneezed, then covered his mouth. He held his breath, staring at the boots. Don't let them hear me.

A shiny silver feeler poked out of his shirt pocket, emitting a golden glow that illuminated the cobblestones underneath him. "Boss, you all right?" Spin's whisper had that sarcastic edge he often used when he was annoyed. "Your heart rate is elevated."

"Be. Quiet." Raven gritted his teeth. Spin had the worst sense of timing.

The woman — one of the guard, maybe? — and the sea master stepped away, their voices fading into the distance.

Raven said a quick prayer of thanks to Jor'Oss, the goddess of wild luck, and flicked the inthym back into the sewer. "Shoo!"

He popped his head out from under the carriage to take a quick look around. There was no one between him and the squat gray Sea Guild headquarters. It was time. Grab it and go.

He reached into the luxurious carriage — a host of mur beetles must have spent years spinning all the red silk that lined the interior — and snagged the package. He hoped it was the treasury payment for the week. If so, it should hold enough coin to feed an orphanage for a month, and he knew just the one. "Got it."

"Good. Now get us out of here."

A strange tingling surged through his hand. Raven frowned. Must have pinched a nerve or something.

Ignoring it, he stuck the package under his arm, slipped around the carriage, and set off down Gullton's main thoroughfare. He walked as casually as he could, hoping no one would notice the missing package until he was long gone.

"We clear?"

Spin's feeler blinked red. "No. Run! They've seen you."

Raven ran.

He didn't know how his strange little friend did it, but he trusted Spin. When his familiar's far vision worked, he was almost always right.

"Stop the thief!" A guard's voice echoed down Grindell Lane between the shops that loomed over Raven like jagged teeth in the dimming light. Passersby turned to stare, but no one intervened.

"Holy green hell, what's in this thing?" Raven clung to the package, his patched-up boots thudding down the cobblestone street. He said a brief prayer of thanks to El'Oss, the Old God, that Spin's special powers were working.

He shot a glance over his shoulder at the pursuing guardsmen. A miasma of fog mixed with smoke lay thick across the city streets, lighting the sunset in the green sky behind him gloriously in red and gold.

You're daft as a gully bird, Rav'Orn. Stealing a package from the sea master's carriage in broad daylight? Seriously? If the Thieves' Guild found out, they'd be after him again for stirring up trouble.

Still, he hadn't expected three guardsmen to come after him. What in Heaven's Reach did I steal, the Hencha Queen's jewels?

A woman lay slumped in the doorway of a closed tailor's shop ahead, The Knotted Purse, wrapped in a familiar blanket. Raven skidded to a halt. "Where are they?"

"About a block away. You're not as slow as usual today." Coming from Spin, that was almost a compliment.

"Thanks." Raven ignored his companion's snarky tone. He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a single silver croner and dropped it into the roofless woman's hand, ignoring her unwashed smell. Not everyone had a bathtub or a river to bathe in, after all. "Get yourself something hot to eat, Scilla." He kissed her cheek.

Scill'Eya's eyes lit up, and a smile cracked her weathered face. A single tear ran down her dirty cheek, revealing the ruddy skin underneath, and she nodded. "Nor'Oss bless you, Rav'Orn."

Spin's voice chimed urgently in his ear. "Let's move it. They're hot on your tail, boss."

But Raven was already off and running again, barreling down the street.

He glanced over his shoulder in time to see the roofless woman stumble to her feet and careen "accidentally" into the path of one of the guards, knocking him to the ground.

Bless you too, Scilla.