Prince Raphael Novels & Stories

growled the seemingly embittered Alain. Casimir Lennox Aldrich Duchene, the heir apparent and charming noble, eldest son of Alana Duchene and the late Sebastian Duchene, was the golden prince as it were of the family and often quite mischievous. He'd been only two years older than his baby brother Alain but a troublemaker from the very beginning. His teacher believed him to be a terror for years but respected his status as the son of a prominent figure in politics. He was known for wild and crazed stunts such as this and events that got his younger brother caught in the crossfire. As charming as he was seductive, the tall handsome blond lad attracted attention from women of all ages but bedd

Just wanting her to be happy. “You still don’t understand.” Savvy says, white as a sheet as she stares off into space. “Elijah is a Prince of Werewolves and Witch Kingdoms. The one who will be taking the seat of power from his father, the next King of Werewolves, is turning eighteen. All of the Elders will be here for the ball tonight.”

Then someone suddenly came out from the lake, they looked at the person in shock. It was a very handsome young man who had wings. "Theodore?" Fife asked hesitantly. "Yes Fife, its me" the young man replied. Fife and Elena's mouth hung open in shock while Phidius and Gad knelt down. "Demon Prince Azazel, we pledge our allegiance to you" they both said.

He settled into it with quiet efficiency, his dark eyes moving over the room's new configuration, cataloguing and assessing in the way he did everything. Raphael stood at the head of the table, dressed more formally than his usual training attire. Dark jacket, precise posture, the particular quality of bearing that Eve was learning meant he'd shifted registers.....not her uncle teaching her power techniques, but something that felt older and more formal. A prince of the Seraphim Court who had survived a coup and two decades of careful intelligence work, preparing his niece for a battlefield made of language and politics. "Sit," he said, gesturing to the single chair.

Disappear until the fire cooled. But then— Whispers. Low. Urgent. From two maids scuttling across the corridor. I stopped. “Speak,” I ordered, voice hoarse but unyielding. They froze. Faces draining. Pr-ince?” one of them stammered. “What’s happening?” I stepped closer. They smelled of panic. “It’s… Prince Raphael. He’s—he’s unwell. No one’s—no one’s tending to him.” My blood ran cold. “What do you mean ‘no one’?”

He walked over and set the mug on the coffee table right next to Raphael’s head. "Drink," Ethan ordered. "You smell like a distillery, boss." Raphael sat up slowly, wincing as his ribs flared with a sharp, burning pain. He looked down at himself. He was wearing a wrinkled white t-shirt and a pair of Ethan’s old, baggy sweatpants that had a faded fraternity logo on the thigh. He was the CEO of Kingston Corporation, and he looked like a broke college student. "I need my clothes," Raphael mumbled, his voice raspy and dry. He picked up the coffee and took a slow sip.

My mind instantly jumped to Prince Ragnor, because I deeply suspected that ruthless bastard knew a lot more than he let on. I opened my mouth to voice my suspicions, but Raphael beat me to it. “My Prince is missing?” Raphael gasped, his eyes widening in shock. “Oh no... I should have gone with him and never left his side. Prince Azrael, I actually have someone locked up in my custody as we speak. He came straight from your kingdom, wandering around the black market and asking questions while holding a picture of Prince Lucien.” “And you didn't think it was important enough to tell me immediately?” I glared sharply at Raphael, my heart hammering like a trapped bird.

The tenth year since I accidentally landed in modern-day America, and the system finally noticed me—a glitch in its timeline. It told me that in three days, I'd be sent back to where I truly belonged. Back to London. Back to my era. And I—I used to be one of the most powerful men in the entire British Empire. Alexander William Windsor. First in line to the British throne. The system gave me seventy-two hours. A countdown to say goodbye to this century. Day one, my fiancée Evelyn told me our wedding had to be called off. Because Ryan—the boy she'd grown up with—had been diagnosed with a terminal illness. Day two, Evelyn brought Ryan home. To our home. She said he had nowhere else to go. Asked

outside of room a man in his early 20 s standing with a hand in his chest and head down. He stopped and looked at his right hand man ...the man said "Lord ..the information of this girl's death already went to human council...I did what you instructed..we have to wait for their reply " ....he smirked and said "Raphael Ralph don't care about the reply of another side ...when someone will break the rule...he or she should die...this is the rule of my world" ...the man nodded in agreement ...he looked at his assistant and said "Clean up the body...give this to my loving Python girl...prepare my dress...I have to attend a function..." ....The man nodded and went inside the room... He was none o