Page 10 of Raphael
Brooding over Raphael will only lead to foolish choices. He’s an arrogant scoundrel, unworthy of my continued fascination. I should put him out of my mind for good.
If only it were that simple.
But despite my stern admonitions, I ache for his presence like a missing limb. No lover before has ever ignited such consuming fire within me, reducing my will to cinders with a mere look. Raphael tapped into some hidden well of passion I never knew existed in me.
And now, it’s as if he reached in and broke the lock, releasing desires too long denied. I’ve never craved intimacy so intensely as I have since his hands moved over me. Even the ghost of his touch haunts me.
With a pitiful whine, I gulp down more booze, willing its numbing haze to quiet these dangerous thoughts. But subtle cravings coil tighter with every sip.
I shift restlessly, skin tingling at the memory of his warmth so near. What I wouldn’t give to feel it again...
No! I squeeze my eyes shut and give my head a fierce shake. I cannot continue down this reckless road. Nothing but heartache lies that way.
Raphael is an archangel, a sworn enemy of my kind. Our tryst was an anomaly, never to be repeated. I’m betrothed to Draven besides, a promising alliance for my family—plus,he’s one of Uncle Luci’s highest-ranked captains.
I repeat these truths over and over, a talisman against folly. But my traitorous heart refuses to listen.
With a huff, I rise on less-than-steady legs and head inside, locking the balcony door firmly behind me. The apartment welcomes me with its stylish modernity—all clean lines and muted tones.
I make for the living area where floor-to-ceiling bookshelves dominate the far wall. Most still sit empty, waiting to be filled with whatever scholarly tomes catch my fancy.
Collapsing onto the sleek grey sofa, I draw my knees up and take consoling sips while scrolling through my phone. But I barely see the screen, my thoughts far away.
Why does Raphael affect me so powerfully? He’s just another callous rake, not worth this agony. I need to be stronger, withstand his pull.
If only Uncle Luci hadn’t summoned me, forcing us apart prematurely. I’m starting to regret snapping at him for his cockiness—although he deserved it. I’m certain given a bit more time, I could have regained enough self-control to part ways in less dreary terms.
But our encounter was cut cruelly short. His kiss still lingers, permeating my soul with longing. His hands on me were bliss—I crave their touch again with every fiber of my being.
With a growled curse, I pitch my phone aside and grab a throw pillow, holding it tight to my churning stomach. Glass walls surround me in this modern apartment, yet I’ve never felt so trapped, pinned by invisible bonds I cannot escape.
Raphael’s searing stare chains me as effectively as any shackles. He awakened a hunger within me, one that only his touch can satisfy. I must stay strong and endure these fiery trials, though this path leads to nothing but future pain.
I fill my glass with wine before wandering to the panoramic window overlooking the twinkling city. Its lights are blurred shapes through my hazy gaze, merging then separating.
I press my feverish cheek against the blessedly cool glass. The brief relief calms my body slightly, yet the maelstrom inside my mind still rages on.
Turning my back on the window, I slide down until I’m seated on the plush carpet. The cityscape swirls behind me, a mirror to my messy thoughts.
With my legs curled beneath me, I let my mind drift where it wishes. Despite my attempts at distraction, it always returns to Raphael; the manly archangel who upended my carefully arranged world.
I picture his handsome face hovering above me in the dark, eyes burning with wicked intent—my core throbs at the memory. No matter how I try to forget him, my thoughts loop right back to reliving our encounter.
Each time the scenes grow more vivid, new facets emerging—the taste of his lips, the scratch of his beard on my cheek, the rumbling timbre of his voice whispering dangerously tempting things...
The wine bottle is nearly empty, my limbs languid and heavy. But still, desire simmers right below my skin, refusing to be quenched. I ache where his hands gripped my hips, their phantom imprints seared into my flesh.
If only he would appear now and finish what we started. I’m helpless to resist him any longer.
As if summoned by my thoughts, a sharp rap at the door jolts me upright. Disoriented, I stare across the dim living room. My pulse thunders. Could it be...?
On shaky legs, I stand, combing my fingers through my disheveled hair. I pause an arm’s length from the door, steeling myself. What if it’s really him?
Before I lose nerve, I throw the door open, breathless words poised on my lips—.
But only empty air greets me. The hallway sits silent, shadowed. My shoulders slump as I chide at my foolish hopes. This isn’t some trite romance novel where the lead appears when conveniently desired.
You are so fucked up, Helena. This guy has wrecked you.
