Her fascination with him unsettled her, especially when it seemed markedly one-sided today. She was getting in over her head with him; she realized that. It wasn’t just the incredible sex that had her stomach doing flips and her veins feeling as if they had absorbed a prolonged jolt of electricity.
It was simply being with Rafe that did that to her. Talking with him. Strategizing with him. Being close enough to feel the warmth and strength of his body, and to see the kindling embers in his aquamarine eyes when he looked at her.
She couldn’t believe she had let herself get entangled so quickly and deeply with a male she knew so precious little about. He was dangerous; she’d seen that firsthand. He could be kind and caring; she had experienced that in the park when he healed her, and again last night when he had treated her with such gentleness—right before he had shown her the true meaning of passion.
But Rafe was also a tormented and angry man, fixated on vengeance against Opus.
Not that she could blame him.
As for the Order turning him out, their loss had become her gain. She had set out on her quest alone after losing her family, never imagining she’d find an ally along the way. There was a part of her that wanted to think she may have found something even more than that in Rafe.
As she watched him, she realized there was so much she wanted to know about him, so much she wanted to understand. She didn’t even know his last name.
Propping her elbow on the table, she watched him leaf through the records. “I just realized there’s something very important you haven’t told me yet.”
His head lifted sharply and he swung a bland, yet oddly guarded look at her. “What’s that?”
“Is Rafe your full name, or is it short for something?”
He exhaled a wry laugh. “My given name’s Xander, actually.” That peculiar expression on his face relaxed into a knee-melting, crooked grin. “Xander Raphael Malebranche.”
“It’s beautiful.”
He chuckled. “I’ll tell my parents you said so next time I see them.”
“How often is that?” she asked. “You haven’t spoken much about them.”
Other than his confession that he’d almost gotten his parents killed on account of his involvement with Opus Nostrum’s mole, Devony might have assumed he had no family in his life either.
Looking at him, he seemed as alone as she was. Whether his solitude was self-imposed or a result of the shame he obviously carried for having been duped by an Opus operative, she wasn’t sure.
All she did know was that he was hurting underneath the tough face he showed the world.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen them,” he said. “A couple of months, maybe longer.”
“So, not since you left the Order?”
He drew in a long breath, turning away from her to page absently through the files in front of him. “Yeah, I guess so. Around that time.”
“Your last name,” she said, realizing it was familiar to her. “Are you telling me you’re related to Dante Malebranche?”
“He’s my father.”
“Seriously?” Devony sat back in her chair, astonished. “I don’t think there’s anyone in or around JUSTIS who doesn’t know the names of Lucan Thorne and his warrior commanders. Wasn’t your father one of the founding members of the original compound here in Boston?”
“Not quite,” Rafe said, pivoting to look at her again. “There are others who go further back with Lucan than my father. But yes, he’s been an Order warrior for a long time. He’s one of the district commanders now, heading up the operation center and patrol team in Seattle.”
“You sound very proud of him.”
He nodded. “I am. My father is an extraordinary man, not only because of his long role in the Order. He’s one of my best friends. And he casts a long shadow. My mother, Tess, as well.”
Devony knew the feeling of pride he described. Her family didn’t have the high profiles that Rafe’s and some of the other Order’s founding members had, but she had been immensely proud of her parents too. She had longed to prove herself to them somehow.
Instead, they coddled her under lock and key growing up, sheltered her. When she was old enough, they pushed her toward safe pursuits like music and dance. As if they expected her to disappoint them somehow. As if she already had.
“What does your father think about you no longer being part of the Order, Rafe?”
He shrugged, deflecting. “I haven’t asked him.”
