Rafe Cameron Novels & Stories

Rafe nervously stepped up to the door of Mr Jones Vones' house. His parents had told him the tales of Mr Jones Vones. The man's wealth and power, but he had not expected the heavy door before him to be guarded by a man with a gun. Rafe remembered that day like it was yesterday. He had been so scared and confused as he and his family stumbled into the city of Cayton. He was just fifteen years of age. Previously, his friends had told him. He had been warned of the dangers of the city, but the sight of the guards of Mr Jones' grandfather, Mr Cayton, had been the most frightening of all. He had been so hungry and exhausted, but he had never expected to be arrested.

"I'm Beckett Group's best connection in Solana City. In fact, I've secured a document for a cultural city project set to begin bidding in three years. I promise it'll be yours. You have my word!" "Three years?" Justin's voice dripped with mock gratitude. "How kind of you. But before you decide, let me show you something." Justin tapped his phone, sending a video. Moments later, Rafe's sharp intake of breath was audible through the call. His voice quivered with both fear and rage. "You… You set me up? How could you?" The video showed Rafe, naked and debauched on a couch, flanked by two unclothed women. If this got out, he'd be ruined.

The circle was going to force my power out, and I would pass the trial, and Caleb would kill him. Rafe’s eyes were blazing, he was straining against the rogues holding him, the bond strained and muffled, suddenly screamed with a single, clear emotion from him. Not fear for himself. Pride. And then, a command, not through the bond, but through the sheer force of his will, his lips forming the words across the distance. “LET GO.” He didn’t want me to fail for him. He wanted me to fight. The moonbeam hit my boots.

Killian took out his phone from his pocket. "Killian," I murmured his name as a warning not to try to piss Rafe off. "Is there something you want, my love?" Killian shifted his focus to me. "No, not at all, go ahead." "Miserable huh?" Rafe asked with a raising eyebrow. "Anyways, you're right after all. My email is RafeOrton99 at g***l.com. Send it straight to my P****l." Some minutes later with Killian on his phone tapping and clicking, a notification sound was heard from...that should be Rafe's phone.

cutting me off Jeremy cringed, “There you go again, naming it. Why would you do that?” My mouth gaped slightly at his reaction, “I’m not naming it, I mean, him. That’s his name Jeremy, his name is Rafe. You were there when he told me his name for god sake, do you think I just made up a name for him,” I said now waving my hand up in front of him.

“You lost your company and your sister to Damien Blackwell. I’d think you’d be hiding somewhere.” Rafe smiled faintly. “Damien is rebuilding McCracken Holdings for her” Trina frowned. “What?" she was shocked. "How did you know?" Trina asked. Rafe stepped closer. “Let him rebuild it". He said without replying to her question “Why would I want that?” Rafe leaned closer and whispered near her ear. “Because when it’s finished… I’m taking it back.” Trina stared at him and burst out laughing. “You’re bluffing.”

Rafael stood at my window, his cloak soaked from rain and blood on his collar. “Gods are you hurt?” I rushed toward him. “Not mine,” he murmured, wiping his cheek. “Camden’s wolves ambushed us at the ridge. We drove them back.” I reached for him instinctively, placing a hand on his chest. His heartbeat thundered beneath my palm. “You could’ve died.” “I didn’t.” “But you could have.” His hand wrapped around mine, pressing it tighter against his chest. “I came back.” I looked up, heart pounding. “Why?”

"Pâmela Montenegro." He repeated it mentally. The name had personality. It didn’t match fragility, although at that moment she seemed so vulnerable. "Nice to meet you…" he said carefully, extending his hand. "Rafael Carter." She took his hand and couldn’t help herself. His gray eyes were incredibly striking. Intense. Warm. Different from any man she had ever known. She realized she had been looking at him for too long and looked away, feeling her face grow warm as she withdrew her hand.

Rafe's dark eyes locked on, calm but piercing, like he could see right through the casual stance. "Morning," Rafe said, his voice low and even, carrying the weight of someone used to being heard. "Name's Rafe. Moved in next door last night. Your party's carrying a bit." He didn't raise his tone, but the words landed heavy, no room for bullshit.