2012 Raphael の小説・ストーリー

However, the informer immediately ignores Raphael and quickly approaches him after apologising to him shortly. "Master, you must look at this!!" The informer has something in his hand which Raphael is unable to see clearly without his glasses that he had put down while he was resting earlier. Putting it on again, Raphael's eyes widened seeing the material in his hand. "The black envelope with the golden-red seal!!!!!" he gasps. "Yes, master! I couldn't believe my eyes either! It’s been ages since I saw the last one…." "Indeed! The last time it was when we had a war against the wolves," says Raphael with a heavy heart.

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.

He is not worth it', I said to him through a miasma of pain while holding his hand. It's as if he is in another zone. He shook my hand like I'm a rag doll and continued his punching. 'Please Rafa', I begged him. Not for that dirty scum, but for him. Because this Raphael is different, he is scary... he is dangerous. I was never scared of him. Not even when he deliberately irritated me. Not even when he was in the moody phase for days. He is normally unfazed, nothing touches him. Shit, not even when some lady tried to ruin his product's reputation. I feel like it was a Long time ago. But that's the Raphael I know. Serious but calm. Passionate but distant.

Yeah she was seventeen and stubborn on so many levels but she also was a lot more mature than most girls her age. Raphael got up from his throne and cleared his throat to get everyone's attention in the room. The talking stopped at once and everyone’s attention was on him. He was almost as old as the King. He was around 930 years old and he was sired by the King. Raphael had wavy brown hair that was shoulder length. He had striking deep sea green eyes. Belle heard her little sister suck in her breath, she was studying him. Her sister talked to her through their mental link. "You can keep the King I will take him. He is built like a god."

Camila stared at him from across the room, wondering what genetic mistake allowed him to exist. “Do you know him?” the curator asked dryly, glancing at Cam. “Never seen him before in my life,” she replied without missing a beat. Rafael was staring at a huge canvas that looked like it had been painted with hate. The painter might have suffered from depression, or maybe had a stroke while painting. Because whatever the inspiration behind this shit was, it shouldn't be allowed into a gallery. It's always the ugliest painting that is sold for a thousands of grands.

Claire giggled. Raphael let out a heavy sigh. He walked over to the sink and spent two full minutes aggressively scrubbing the sticky paste off his hands. He grabbed a towel, dried his hands, and slowly turned around to face her. His dark eyes narrowed. A slow, dangerous smirk touched his lips. He walked back over to the island. He didn't stop until he was standing right between her knees. He placed his hands on the counter on either side of her hips, trapping her. "I am a disaster?" Raphael whispered. His face was just inches from hers. "You sat there for twenty minutes watching me fail. You didn't even try to help me."