Kiss the Reaper by Blak Rayne @BlakRayne ~ New release now available at Amazon!

Kiss the Reaper
Blak Rayne
New release now available at Amazon!
As a prostitute, Z has no one trustworthy he can rely on
in his life until he meets Brody, a kind and mysterious man who seems to be the
answer to all his problems.
‘Wherever depravity knocks,
he will answer. Whenever Z knocks, he will kill.’
For Z, prostitution is a way of life, but it’s also
become his prison. Desperate to forget his ugly existence, even if it’s only
once a week, he confides in a john—a mysterious but kind man named Brody. Every
Friday night they talk until the early morning hours. Brody is altruistic,
giving him the attention he craves and, in time, they cultivate a unique bond.
For Brody, he’s found something special in Z—an innate
charm and pure view of the world—qualities he can appreciate. He’s grown fond
of Z and comfortable with their routine, but he knows it will soon come to an
Fueled by curiosity, Z follows Brody through the city to
a dance club. He wants to learn all he can about his unusual client. However,
he discovers more than he bargained for—a dark unsettling secret is hidden in a
back room, a secret he can never share.


The elevator slid shut at the far end of the hallway and
I caught a glimpse of Brody inside. I raced past it and down three levels of a
concrete stairwell to catch him. Once on the street, he walked like he had a
purpose, cutting straight through anyone in his path. I followed him for
several blocks, where he entered an abandoned warehouse in an industrial park.
I kept close to the walls and shadows, careful not to disturb anything.
On the fifth floor, in what had once been a spacious
office, sat the basics in furniture—a liquor cabinet and kitchenette, bathroom,
and a bed—it wasn’t how I expected him to live. A meticulous man, he seemed the
type who would rent a West End condo.
Brody began to remove his clothes, and I ducked behind a
rusted filing cabinet. He wasn’t huge or burly, but lean, an unbreakable man,
and I felt an even stronger attraction to him. In certain respects we were one
in the same—a pair of freakish oddballs—mutually needy. I wanted his attention
and it seemed he wanted my approval. But what about love? And what about sex?
His cock was long and lean like him, his nakedness
beautiful. My stomach fluttered and I bottled my breath, quickly looking away
to stay calm. He deserved privacy and my respect. But my thoughts were far from
Water ran, and I waited, rubbing nervously at my sweaty
upper lip. The bathroom door opened, and Brody emerged in a cloud of steam,
waist wrapped in a towel. In minutes, he was dressed and adjusting his tie in
front of the large window. Then he slid the holsters over his shoulders,
buckled the chest strap, and put on his blazer.
Once again, he was on the move, myself in pursuit. But
somehow within a block of the warehouse, his trail had gone cold.
“Shit,” I gasped, my breath misting in the air. Light
from a neon sign nearby glistened on the damp pavement. No other business in
the immediate area was open. I had a hunch and pulled on the blackened entrance
Loud music hit like a brick, rattling my chest. People
drank, danced and made out—the club was a den of wickedness. And I soon became
disoriented in the chaos, temporarily absorbed like water into a sponge by the
hypnotic pulse of lights. I shoved against the suffocating mass of bodies and
scanned the sea of bobbing heads. At the rear of the club, I noticed a hallway
emitting a red glow and, for some inexplicable reason, I felt drawn to it and
moved in that direction.
When I reached it, a man brushed past, bumping my arm.
The unnatural light obscured his head and shoulders. I paused and glanced back,
but he’d vanished. Our interaction was so brief, only his stature had
registered. There were three doors to my left and the middle one stood partly
open. I gave it a cautious push and it crept inwards. The red glow from the
corridor gradually spread across the floor.
I gagged.
In the center of the room was a dead man, seated on a
chair in front of a boarded window, his mouth gaping, a quarter-sized hole in
his forehead. He stared with vacant eyes, those deprived of a soul. Blood
trickled past the bridge of his nose and had spattered the plywood in the
window, like someone had flicked paint from his or her fingertips.
For the first few seconds, I was too traumatized to be
scared, but had enough sense to get out of there. Murder was still illegal.
Turning on my heels, I blew from the room, heart hammering. I tried to act
normal, but failed, wading at an urgent pace across the dance floor, propelling
people out of my way. A yard ahead was the silhouette of a tall figure, a man
engulfed in the epileptic beat of strobe lights. I don’t know why, but the back
of his head and shoulders, and his sturdy purposeful gait seemed all too
familiar. He had to be the man who’d passed me minutes before.
He exited the building and I did the same, dashing
outside into the drizzly night. Gulping at the cold air, I looked in every
direction. The street was desolate, not a human in sight—the man had, yet
again, vanished into thin air. I turned east for home, an alley sandwiched
between the club and neighboring building, and someone materialized from the
“W-who are you?” I demanded, limbs shaking.

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Muffy, likened in style to one of the Bronte sisters and Anne Rice, is an award winning bestselling author of provocative romance about love, sex, hope and passion. An American author of the popular Shadow Seduction Series (a paranormal love story) and the Ribbons of Moonlight Series (a contemporary romance), she has penned a dozen other books and anthology collections. 

Muffy was born in Texas to traditional parents. With two older brothers, she was the youngest, the family “princess,” indulged and pampered. Her father was a career Colonel and pilot in the U.S. Air Force which required the family to travel extensively. Muffy spent her formative years in Europe and ‘came of age’ in France which forged her joie de vivre and love for books and writing. Married and living in the tropical paradise of SW Florida along the Gulf Coast, Muffy writes and enjoys life in the sun with her husband and wee Havanese pup, Burt. 

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