Rafe Cameron Novels & Stories

If I have another, I'll never hear the end of it from Roxie. As I wait for the drinks, someone else comes up to the bar. When I look up, I find it's Luca's next youngest brother, Raphael - or Rafe, as his family usually calls him. Rafe is pretty darn different from his older brothers. While Dante and Luca are opposites in terms of temperament, they're both polished when it comes to their public personas. Rafe, on the other hand, is the black sheep of the family. With his shaved head and tattoos, he looks more like he belongs in a motorcycle gang than in Hollywood's royal family. And he's definitely forging his own career path - though he's done some acting like everyone else in his family, h

Rafe came to me three months after the choice, in the late afternoon on a day when Dominic was at a council meeting and the house was quiet. He knocked on the door of the room I now used as an office—my maps spread across the walls, the pack territory coming into clearer relief with every week of work—and he looked like himself, which was to say he looked like someone who had done the internal work and was on the other side of it, not unchanged but real. "I want to talk to you," he said. "About Cael. About some things I should have told you earlier."

“I left them but I had no idea where to go. I was moving to another city to find out more about my birth when I met a guy. I was on road and stopped by a café for some food. A guy came over to me and told me that he knew what I am. He said that he could help me find out more. I-I didn’t trust him but something was better than nothing and I literally had no other way of finding out more about the werewolves.” Before he could continue, Azraiel stops him and asks the question. “What was the name of the guy you met in the café?” Caleb scrunches his brows and gives the name that connects him to Charlotte. “Richard. His name was Richard.”

Fog and smoke blurred the world; through the lens, Kael was a sharp, lethal figure moving through it, dragging other men back behind cover, firing, shouting orders. “Still got it,” Rafe muttered around the cigarette clamped between his teeth. He tracked Kael’s path with the barrel, following the line of his shoulders, the way he adjusted to each new threat without breaking stride. “Don’t get cute,” a voice crackled in Rafe’s earpiece—one of his own crew. “We’re not here to take the shot.” “I know why we’re here,” Rafe said. “Just checking the merchandise.” He flicked the safety on and off once, a pointless, dangerous little habit, before settling it firmly back to safe.

He tries to maintain his composure, but I can feel the tension radiating off him. Rafe extends a handshake to Damon, who reluctantly lets go of me to accept it. "Good to see you again, Beta Damon," Rafe says, his voice steady. He had always been one to remind Damon that he was a Beta despite his marriage to me. "Likewise," Damon replies, his smile tight. I know without a doubt he despises Rafe the most out of the other Alpha's. Rafe then turns to me, his expression still emotionless. "Our Luna," he says, offering his hand. "It's a pleasure."

He muttered and went on his knees in front of him. "What are you sorry for?" Caleb asked. Rafa sniffed and took his left arm, holding him tenderly. "I'm sorry for hurting you, for shooting an arrow at you. I'm sorry for not protecting you and I'm especially sorry for what I am about to do," He took a deep shaky breath and forced a smile but Caleb wasn't smiling back, rather he stared at him suspiciously. "We have two choices..." Rafa began. "To let you die, and return to the Calms, or to Reject you." Caleb's eyes bulged at his words, and he tried to get back on his feet and run, but Rafa held him down easily. "I'm sorry... I am so sorry," He brought the wrist to his mouth and bit deeply into

something in me hesitated. That hesitation cost three lives. Now he sits below my feet, reminding me of every choice I can’t undo. I pour a glass of whiskey I won’t drink and turn back to the monitors. On-screen, Rafe sits on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it’s the only thing that still believes him. I remember the night he joined the family—barely twenty, reckless, sharp-eyed. I taught him to shoot, to negotiate, to survive. He learned too well.

Moreover, I can't trust anyone in this world. "I'm Warren Christ Yiffer and my wifey, Rafaelia Yiesha Moreal, you?" he asked with joy in his eyes. "R-rafaelia Moreal?" I asked in shock. It's impossible, that girl... Of all the people she is, I can never forgive them! My memories of what happened in those days began to return. "Yesh! She's super duper beautiful, strong and kind. I love her so much!" he was happy with the story. I clenched my fist. Kind? Kind my ass, they ruined my life!

He wanted to know who the woman was on the first floor earlier and he sensed there were other things he needed to know about too. Rafe was watching him silently from his seat at the dining table, sipping at a cup of coffee. "Who's the wildcat?" Caleb finally asked, letting the full weight of his gaze fall on Rafe as he spoke. He wanted to see his initial reaction to the question. Apart from a slight tightening of his lips, Rafe managed to keep his expression neutral. "The newest member of my pack." His reply was slightly guarded, as if he was deciding how much information to impart.

The heavy scent of cedarwood and rain didn’t belong to Elias. When the shadow finally stepped into the pool of light cast by the computer monitor, Damien’s fingers tightened so hard against the edge of the twenty-year-old photograph that the brittle paper threatened to snap. It was Rafe. His head of security, his closest confidant, and the only man who knew exactly how deep Damien had fallen into the quicksand of his forbidden affair with Elias.