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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 end.
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.
Excerpt:
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 respectful.
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 door.
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 shadows.
“W-who
are you?” I demanded, limbs shaking.
Tags:
Gay, Gayromlit, Romance, MMromance, Drama, Dark, Twisted, Killers, Assassins,
Murder, Orphan, Prostitution, Futuristic, City Setting, Sex, Adult Fiction, and
Must Read.
Purchase
Links:
Kiss
the Reaper is available at these distributors.
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I loved this book!! So much so that I wrote a 5* review. Ms Rayne's style is sweeping and so haunting. The depth of character is also unbelievably impressive! Have a read: https://goo.gl/9FzX0m
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