Thursday, March 21, 2024

Release Blitz: His Darkness by Angel Rayne


Title: His Darkness
Series: His Confession Trilogy Book 1
Author: Angel Rayne
Genre: Dark Mafia Romance
Release Date: March 21, 2024
Cover Design: Dar Albert at Wicked Smart Designs

I’m not a villain. I’m something much, much worse…

People have called me many things over the years.

Cold. Violent. Monster. Psychopath.

Only the last one is incorrect.

I’m actually a sociopath.

But my lack of feelings never hurt me. In fact, it helped me survive the brutal torture of my upbringing. Made me one of the best mafia enforcers in the business.

So, I’m…content with my life. Or I was, at least.

Until I saw her.

Luna Wilde is the property of one of my boss’s men. Untouchable. Forbidden. I’ve been ordered to keep my distance.

But for the first time, I don’t give a single fu*k about my orders.

I’m obsessed. Ready to stalk her to the ends of the earth and destroy anyone who stands between us.

I hope she likes the dark.

Because that’s where she’ll stay now that she’s mine…

“This book is deliciously dark.” -Baileys_Bookstagram
“Just Wow! I have been anxiously awaiting Tristan's story and Angel Rayne did not hold back.” -arieste323

I checked the window to see if it was wired to a security system. There were no visible magnets or transmitters, and the frame looked old. Out of curiosity, I pulled the screen off and hid it behind one of the bushes. Then I tested the window. The lock was an old-fashioned mechanism that wiggled when I tried to raise the window. Glancing behind me to confirm none of the guards had wandered over this way, I braced my palms on the glass and shoved upward. 

The lock moved, but it wasn’t quite enough to break it. 

Pulling a knife out of the pocket of my black cargo pants, I jimmied it under the frame between the upper and lower panes and managed to move the latch into the unlocked position. I put my knife away, placed my palms on the glass again, and shoved upward. This time, it moved. 

Raising it a few inches, I waited, listening. The shower was still running, but I didn’t hear anything else. Seconds ticked by. When no guards came running into the room to investigate, I opened it all the way and crawled inside, leaving the window open, just in case I had to make a quick escape. 

The room smelled like Luna. I closed my eyes as I inhaled deep. Walking over to the bed, I picked up her pillow and pressed it to my face, breathing her in. It smelled like her shampoo. Pantene, if I wasn’t mistaken. I remembered the scent from Enzo’s wedding when she’d swung her head around to talk to me and all that long, dark hair had tumbled over her shoulder and down her back. I clenched the pillow in my fists, wishing I could feel her hair. 

Something tickled my face. Putting the pillow down, I ran my hand over it again and came back with a few strands of her hair. I wrapped them around my index finger and rubbed them with my thumb. Soft. Like I knew they would be. Grabbing a tissue from the box on the nightstand, I carefully folded it around the strands and put it in my pocket.

I walked over to the closet, my boots silent on the ugly green and white area rug covering the wood floors. It matched the comforter on the bed, but that was about all that could be said for it. Both were ugly, and unsuitable for a woman as radiant as Luna.

A variety of dresses and shoes, all high-heeled, filled the closet. I scanned the clothes until I found the blue dress Gino must’ve been talking about. But he was wrong. It wasn’t the same color as her eyes. This dress was bland. The color muted. Luna’s eyes were luminous, a multi-dimensional cobalt blue edged with a ring of black. I could stare into her eyes forever.

I took the dress from its spot and hung it at the front of the row, then crept back into the bedroom. In the top drawer of her dresser, I found all manner of silky things and a few more sensible cotton items. I picked up one of each and decided I preferred the cotton. They seemed more real. More like her. The silk was something she wore when she was pretending to be someone she wasn’t. 

Remembering the hamper I’d seen in the closet, I returned to it, plucked out a pair of striped cotton underwear, and brought them to my face. The warm, sweet smell of Luna filled my nose and sent blood rushing to my cock. I groaned aloud, crumpling them up and shoving them into the front pocket of my pants. 

The water was still running, but she would probably be done soon. I should leave. Yet I couldn’t make myself go. Not yet. Instead, I went over to the bathroom door and carefully turned the knob. The slight creak of the door was disguised by the sound of the fan as I cracked it open and peered inside.

In the mirror, I could see Luna through the clear glass door of the shower. My heart stuttered in my chest, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d ever be able to breathe again. Swallowing hard, I drank in the perfection of her body as she closed her eyes and raised her arms over her head to rinse her long hair. Milky, pale skin contrasted with her black hair. Her nipples matched the color of her lips. The alluring shadow of hair between her legs made it clear she didn’t shave or wax herself bare. Good. I wasn’t into little girls. I liked women to look like women.

Would the hair there be as soft as the hair on her head? I’d never touched a woman intimately, so I had no idea what to expect. I’d never even been curious before. But with Luna, I was desperate to know.

She finished rinsing her hair and turned around, shutting off the water. I allowed myself a quick glance at the graceful length of her back, the curve of her hips, and the roundness of her ass before I slowly eased the door shut again.

I stood staring at the white wood in front of me, breathing through my mouth as I listened to her dry herself off. Forcing myself to move, I went back out the window and carefully closed it.

But I didn’t leave. 

Instead, I waited, watching through the window from the shadows. A few minutes later, she came out wrapped in a towel. Her hair was dry and pulled back into a simple ponytail, and makeup brightened her eyes and lips. Makeup she didn’t need to look beautiful. A picture of her face with her lipstick smeared and mascara running down her cheeks made my already hard cock painfully swollen. She grabbed some underthings from the top drawer of the dresser—silky ones—and disappeared into the closet. I smiled when she came out wearing the required blue dress and heels. 

Back in the bedroom, she stopped, looking around, her expression anxious yet resigned. I shrank back out of view when her eyes skimmed over the window. With a slight frown, she reached just inside the closet door and pulled out a small purse with a long strap. Holding it in her hand, she schooled her expression, lifting her chin and setting her shoulders before leaving the room, pulling the door closed behind her. 

Once I was sure she was gone, I returned the screen to the window and made my way back to the car I’d left parked about a half a mile down the road, easily evading Gino’s guards. 


I would see her again tomorrow.

Hi! My name is Angel Rayne and I write dark, delicious romance with antiheroes who would burn down the world to save the woman they love. I never understood why the villains never win the girl, and so I decided to write them their own love stories where they do.

Here are a few other odds and ends about me…
-Music inspires my stories and I make playlists for every book.
-I am not a fast writer. My stories take time to write. They need to brew in my head. To have book releases close together I have to write ahead. But I would much rather take the time the stories need to be the best they can be than try to rush them out. Trust me on this one.
-I love the rain, and I'm happiest when I'm sitting in a coffee shop with my laptop as it storms outside.
-I prefer to go watch movies alone, with one of those fancy coffees hidden in my purse. (Yes, I really do this.)
-My husband calls me his "little bird" because anything that sparkles catches my eye.
-I will never have enough soft blankets. Ever.
-I love ALL THE DRAMA…at least in books.
-I will forever re-watch The Phantom of the Opera with the hope that by some miracle, this time she will choose correctly.

Thank you for reading my stories, and I always love to hear from you! You can reach me at:


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