2012 Raphael Novels & Stories

The crêpe was warm and slightly too sweet and I ate it with the uncomplicated enthusiasm of someone who had not properly eaten since breakfast. Raphael, for his part, was good company in the specific way of people who understand that not every silence needs filling. He told me about Lyon, about inheriting his father's practice at twenty and spending six months convincing elderly clients that he was actually qualified and not simply someone who had found the files. He was funny about it — dry and self-aware, no performance. I told him about the carburetor. Age nine. He laughed exactly the right amount.

"This is interesting,. said, rubbing his chin with a sly smile on his face. I never lose my cool, but just at the mention of Jasmine's name, something always changes in my demeanor. “Anyways, Raphael went to Paris after getting an intel about Jasmine; I don't think it will come out positive though.” He said nonchalantly, breaking his knuckles. “Hmm” I stood up from the floor and stretched. “Time for round two.” “Ughh” he groaned. “I'll be in my wolf form, right?” He asked with sparkles in his eyes.

He’s not going to get what he wants so easily. Raphael chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Well, well... someone’s feisty.” I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or a warning. Just then, I noticed his right-hand man move forward, a muscle twitching in his jaw. He didn’t like my tone. He took a step toward me, as though he intended to force me into compliance. But Raphael held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. “Remember, Xavier,” he said, his voice cool but commanding, “this little rabbit is my exclusive property.”

But then I saw him. Raphael. He stood in a courtyard that swallowed the night, a black silhouette against the indifferent sky. He held something black and gleaming in his hand. A gun. The moon picked out the gun’s metal like glass. The men with him stood like statues, easing back into the shadows as if they were props in his scene. He looked at me like a man who’d chosen an animal for sport. His smile spread slow and lazy when his eyes found mine. It was the smile that had haunted my nightmares since he first leaned close in his car: polite, amused, pleased.

Raphael picked up his gloves and unhurriedly wore them over his cute hands while Celine silk sat down on his lap even though she was shy as hell. “It's so beautiful…I almost didn't think you could paint such a masterpiece..” Celine stared at the Beautiful painting of the blue orchid also known as the ghost flower… His paintings were so realistic and explainable.. “One of the talents I picked up over the years..” Raphael Smirked proudly and began painting with just one hand and Celine felt like she was distracting so she quickly got off him and luckily he didn't try to stop her as his attention was suddenly on the canvas in front of him..

Raphael found street parking outside Elena's building and sat in his car for exactly eleven seconds. Not because he needed to gather himself, he was always gathered. Two hundred years of navigating Courts, politics, and the specific minefield of existing as something ancient in a world that kept reinventing itself had turned composure into a reflex. It wasn't a choice anymore. It was just how he breathed. He sat there for eleven seconds because he could see her window from where he'd parked.

Raphael POV My alarm on my phone starts buzzing meaning it is time to wake up and start the day. The day we are going back to New York. The day I am returning to my city. Returning to my empire. I will take down the french. I will destroy everything they own. I will eliminate every single one of them. I will put a bullet in the middle of his eyes and make him beg for me to spare his family but I won’t. No one is going to stay alive and I don’t care if they are women or children.

Raphael. I opened my eyes, and as I predicted, he and the cursed were engaged in a brawl in the middle of the road. The door of the car had been ripped off, probably when Raphael was transforming, so I was able to watch the full battle. Raphael was larger, faster, more skilled, and more coordinated, so he had an advantage. But the Cursed was crazy. It didn’t mind the brutal attacks it was taking; it kept fighting, like a mindless puppet that knew only one thing: fight. It didn’t react to the pain but kept on fighting.

The memories unfolded like a film, each recollection seamlessly blending into the next, creating a vivid tapestry of Raphael's life before immortality. As the memories continued to unfold, I watched as Raphael's twin boys slowly grew into rambunctious youngsters, maybe 3 or 4 years old, full of energy and curiosity. Raphael himself began to show signs of aging, his hair graying at the temples, his face etched with lines of love and laughter.

Also known for being cruel and arrogant. Raphael’s pov It’s been sixteen years since the last time I lived here. When I was twelve years old my mom and dad decided to bought a house here. Back then we lived as an ordinary family, dad used to work in a small company as a clerk and my mom did her duties as a good housewife and mother. We’re happy living a simple life as long as we’re together. But fate doesn’t make it possible for us to be complete. Somethings happen in our lives that we didn’t expect to come. Just like what happened to my family, it took everything to me. I left this place to live in England and I left without saying goodbye to the person that I love. Looking at the glass wal