Rafe From Outer Banks Novels & Stories

And weirdly excited by it. When I came out, Rafe had changed too. Gray sweatpants hung low on his hips, that V-line disappearing under the waistband like an invitation, it had no shirt on. The tattoo sleeve covered most of his left arm, some geometric pattern mixed with what looked like waves or storm clouds. His chest was broad, lightly dusted with hair, abs tight enough that I forgot how to speak for a second. He was drying his hair with a towel. The motion made everything flex.

The four of them claimed a corner near the steps, elbows hooked on warm stone, drinks within reach. Rafe fetched rounds. Natalie stole sips from everyone’s glass. Jace’s thigh brushed Lena’s beneath the surface on purpose exactly twice, “accidentally” at least ten times. "Where are you from, Rafe?" Natalie asked. “Denver originally. Now I just chase surf and coffee.” “So homeless,” she teased. “So discerning,” he corrected, grinning. Lena tipped her head to Jace. “And you?” Rafe asked Lena. “Here,” she said, brushing her shoulder against his. “Right now, I’m from here.”

“I care enough for both of us. You don’t understand what it’s like here when everyone turns their back on you!” “Makayla, my wildling, I’m not from here. I’m from Io,” Rafe states simply. He’s so matter-of-fact and unbothered with his shrug. “And Io is not like River Crest. Rumors and gossip will not diminish my value as the best guard in the territory. Nor will it taint my beautiful mate’s warm welcome when we return together.”

he said, “we keep.” Bootsteps approached, brisk. Rafe skidded around the corner with the grin he wore when chaos obeyed him. “Showtime. The cousin’s parade is already tripping over its shoelaces. Also, the dog is following me and if he becomes my dog I’m naming him Bacon.” “Approved,” the Don said. Rafe’s gaze flitted between them, softened by something like pride. “Look at you two. Terrifying. Beautiful. In focus.” He tapped his earpiece. “All right, saints and sinners. Places. We turn the city.”

“Where is she?” “By the car, Signore,” Enzo said following him off the yacht. For the three minute walk to the parking lot, Rafe took in the ocean air and the sounds of water crashing against the vessels in gentle waves. He felt his mood get worse as he walked away from it, just imagining the still and stiff air conditioned enclosed space he was going to and would be trapped in for hours. It was a good thing he opted out of the hotel. Knowing he had this beauty to come back to at the end of the day would help control his mood throughout the day.

But Nick stayed silent, forcing himself to hold the line. Rafe gave a tiny nod and slipped into the backroom again. Nick exhaled, finally allowing tension to leave his shoulders. Tomorrow. He would return. But tonight… he followed. --- Rafe left the café thirty minutes later, stepping into the cool evening air with a backpack slung over one shoulder. He walked with a slight hunch, as though unconsciously trying to make himself smaller. Nick followed from a distance. Rafe didn’t notice him. His attention stayed flickering around the street—the neon lights, the passing cars, the people milling about. Every little sound made him tense, shoulders tightening in reflex.

“Sir, we’ve confirmed—he’s an Omega.” Rafe’s lips curved into a faint, cold smile. “I like him,” he said quietly, almost to himself. His expression hardened, icy and unreadable. “But… sir, he’s undercover,” the man reminded him cautiously. Rafe’s smile didn’t waver. His eyes never left Jay. “Then I’ll handle him myself,” he said, his voice low, lethal. He turned and walked toward his sleek black car parked outside. Meanwhile, the photo shoot carried on. Jay posed effortlessly as photographers clicked furiously, stylists whispered over each other, and assistants blushed at his striking features.

Chapter: 4. ****** "Alpha, I think it's time you reconsider your stance regarding Omegas. The pack members are starting to whisper," Rafe said, leaning against a tree. He was dressed in his usual suit, but without his tie, and his white shirt had its first three buttons open. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he watched his Alpha carefully, waiting for any reaction on his face, but the man remained completely poker-faced.

he roared after closing the door, and I leaned back, feeling my heart racing. “I don’t want your food. What’s the problem with that? If you don’t want me to kill myself with hunger in your house, then let me go. I don’t want to be here anyway, and I don’t want food cooked in your house.” I folded my arms across my chest and pretended his presence wasn’t intimidating me. Rafael was a feared man in Los Angeles. Everyone knew the people he killed and his history in the mafia world. So, when my sister was engaged to him, I thought she knew what she was getting herself into and didn’t want to ask questions about them.

Rafe stood at the edge of the palm line like a god carved from bronze and shadow — white linen shirt open, revealing the hard planes of his chest and the dark tattoos that disappeared beneath his waistband. His gray eyes burned with a mixture of fury and raw hunger as they raked over her barely-covered body. “I was just sunbathing,” she said, quickly pulling her hand away, but the bratty tone remained. “Is that against your precious rules too?” Rafe stalked toward her across the sand, each step deliberate. The bulge in his shorts was already obvious. “You’re out here alone. Touching what belongs to me. And from the way you were moaning, I’d say you were hoping that supply boat might see exac