Did… did he love her?
No.
No he didn't. He couldn't. He wasn't capable of any emotion. It wasn't possible. It would ruin his reputation if anyone found out. What would Caine do? He would ditch him, "Pathetic." He would say. But then, Caine had fallen victim to Diana. Hell, he had a baby with her – at what, fifteen?
Screw Caine.
He took a step closer to her, and gently coiled his snake arm around her waist. She didn't move, as he lifted her from her position and placed her directly in front of him. She lost her balance for a moment, but then stood in front of him. He was taller than her, by at least a head. Her face was level with his chest, and she watched as it rose and fell, slowly.
"Drake…" Anabel said finally, her eyes were still wet. "Don't." Drake sighed, and looked down at the top of her head. "Don't do this to yourself, Drake." He knew she didn't mean it, but he questioned his feelings for her himself. Did he really, actually, like her? Love her?
Was it just a spur of the moment? Was he just thinking irrationally because he enjoyed making her scream? He didn't know.
But being this close to her made him feel good.
So he kissed her.
It took a while for her to respond, she just stood with her arms by her side as he put his normal hand on the side of her neckline, caressing her lips with his tongue.
Oh god, he thought to himself, she doesn't want you. Stop.
But he couldn't stop – he was so wound up in his concoction of feelings he didn't know what to do.
Anabel finally gave up and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him back, pushing herself forward, forcing herself closer to him.
He liked it – the feeling of her dry lips against his own, of her arms around his neck, of her torso pressed against his chest.
He brought her down, and sat on the grass. She enclosed her legs around his hips, and sat on his knees. He pulled away from her, their noses still close to touching.
"Drake…" She said again, and he just grunted.
"Shut up." He yelled angrily, kissing her again. She didn't know whether to take it as a threat or not.
His mouth trailed from her lips down to her jaw, where he pashed the side of her neck, close to biting her supple skin. He felt her goosebumps under his tongue, and he smiled malevolently against her skin.
Anabel shivered from his touch. She liked him, and she didn't deny. She always had, despite how often he would beat her or yell at her or tell her how pathetic she was. She loved him the moment she saw him at Coates.
She used to be friends with Diana – but it was Diana's fault Anabel was in this situation. That was how she met Caine, and that was how she became one of Caine's gang. She would have run to Sam ages ago, if not for Drake.
Drake kept her there. Yet he didn't force her to stay… yet he didn't let her leave. But she didn't want to, as long as he was there.
She knew that Sam would be very reluctant to accept her, anyway. After she defended Drake in the big battle, Sam questioned whether or not he could trust her. He hated Drake, with every cell in his body. But she couldn't hurt Sam, she wasn't the sort to hurt anyone. She was weak.
She winced when she felt Drake's tentacle arm trace up her bleeding, fleshy back. It wrapped around the fastening of her bra, and gently unhooked it. He was reluctant to let go, out of fear of how she would react.
But she went with it, and it unattached from her back and slid down her arms, revealing her bare chest. Drake, despite his overpowering urge, didn't open his eyes.
What is wrong with me? He thought, You torture her for hours and yet now, she's getting naked for you?
He wasn't used to rational thinking, though, was he. He hadn't liked her before, not in this way. Never. He never thought twice about whipping her bare skin. He didn't notice her at Coates. The only person he ever noticed was Georgia Peterson. The tall blonde girl a year above him. But she died, during the big battle. She was a normal, and she didn't care about him.
Maybe that's why he now liked Anabel.
After growing up with no one in the world caring about him, and caring about no one, having someone to actually give a damn where he went at night was quite a nice feeling.
So, was kissing her.
His mouth trailed down her neck and across her shoulder, she fingered the nape of his neck with her delicate fingertips. His snake arm slithered mischievously down the back of her thighs, and he hoisted her up so she was hanging from him like a spider monkey.
He felt her warm breath down the top of his head, her legs tied around his waist and her arms down his back. He lightly kissed her bare chest, still with his eyes closed.
He pushed her down, so she was lying on her back on the grass. She didn't wince, and tried to ignore the pain. Maybe there was so much adrenaline going through her she didn't even notice it.
He crawled over top of her, leaning on both of his arms. He stared down at her face, but he couldn't tell what she was thinking.
Her face was blank. Not bored, or upset, but not happy or enthusiastic either. Just blank.
Drake hesitated, almost swallowing his tongue. What if she didn't want to kiss him? What if she was just scared of what he would do to her if she didn't go with it, so she did?
Isn't that rape? Drake thought, sitting up, Or sexual assault?
"What is it?" Anabel asked softly, remaining still on the grass. Drake looked at her, in a way she wasn't used to at all. It looked incredibly strange.
His eyes were full of dread. Dread, regret, remorse. Not like they usually were.
"Anabel…" He said, gathering the right words to use. His gruff, irritated voice didn't correspond with his remorseful eyes.
"What?" Anabel pondered, frowning. She was relatively nervous... what if he exploded any minute?
Drake sighed. "Are you scared of me?" He asked, trying not to touch her. For a moment, she didn't speak, she just stared up at him.
"I…" Anabel struggled to answer. Was she? "I don't think so." Drake was about to stand, when he felt a firm grip on his shirt.
"I can't." Drake said, looking at her naked torso. "This is rape…" Anabel sat up. She put a hand on his chest, and stared at it, not at him.
"No." She said firmly. "This isn't rape." Then added, "Do you see me trying to stop you?" He looked at her, in such a way that was a cross between aggressive and frustrated and intimidated and worried.
It wasn't like him.
"No…" He confessed, "But you seem so… bleak. I'm just worried that you might only be doing this because you're frightened of me…" She lay back down slowly onto the grass.
"I'm not frightened of you, Drake." She said calmly. "I never have been."