So... I just messed up and published the next chapter instead of this one! So some of you might have already gotten everything spoiled, plus gotten really confused by what is going on. Hope yu're not to upset, it won't happen again!

THE TOUCH OF A HEALER

Returning to Coates was not considered a mistake as Lana laid beneath Drakes warm body, one of his hands unzipping her jeans, the other one behind her head, bringing her closer as they kissed passionately.

When walking the long way back to Coates, Lana hadn't really been herself - she hadn't been herself in quite some time, now. She didn't know why she chose to stay with him, not to mention what might happen to her when she arrived back at the school.

What were the odds of them lying in his bed now, him on top of her? What were the odds of the two of them alone in a room absent of violence? At that moment, they were just another pair of lost teenagers trying to get comforted out of sex.

And that is all there was. Sex. What else would they be doing? Make love? What a thought!

You didn't have to be Astrid The Genius to figure out that Drake would never be capable of such an emotion, nonetheless express it in a humane way.

Was she?

Adults kept saying that no teenagers were competent of that feeling. Still, she had never felt anything quite as intense as what she was feeling, whenever she was around him. But was this actually what you called true love?

She knew that when you love someone, you feel fully devoted to that person. But was she supposed to feel suppressed? Because that is exactly how Drake made her feel.

Their relationship was all about him overpowering her and her letting him do so. Why did she let him? Because he had the power to? Where was her will to fight?

She'd lost part of it after her first encounter with the Darkness, that and part of her sanity. After she faced the Darkness for the second time, the time when she went with Drake, she lost it completely.

But somehow, she felt like being with Drake sort of healed those mental issues of hers. Being with him put her mind off of the Darkness for a while, focusing on something different. Something better.

And when Drake had gotten the heavy burden of being the coyotes "teacher", the slightest tingle of hope had run through her body. She felt as if the burden of the beasts taunting her was over. He was stronger then she was, he would handle them. And somehow she felt as if he had done it intensionally. As if he had taken that burden for her sake, and hers only.

'What are you thinking about?' Drake asked, noticing her absence in their kisses. His lips were pulled half an inch away from hers for the brief second it took to ask the question. His head dived back into position right above her shoulder, the tip of his lips slowly brushing her jaw line, letting her mouth have it's chance to answer his question.

'Nothing in particular,' she replied, not in the mood for opening up. And he didn't pressure her further about that case. It was the end of their conversation for God knows how long. The rest of the night, the only sounds coming from either of them, was heavy breathing and loud moaning.

Somewhere through that very long night, clothing was spread across the floor and the thin sheets of the bed was the only thing keeping them from full exposal towards each other.

Her hands ran up his chest, touching his smooth, muscular body simply out of amusement. Every now and then, her fingers would brush another bruise he had gotten while fighting, and Drake would sigh half-heartedly as some of the acing disappeared from his fresh wounds.

She had healed enough people that day for a lifetime. The long process it took to heal everyone, not only deadly wounds from bullets or coyotes. Everyone would claim the right to be healed until their skin had reached the level were they were numb from finger to toe and they pretty much rejected any pain that would come near the.

After hours upon hours of that crap, Sam had told her to rest. Instead, she had ran off. More like walking off, though, considering her being completely warn out. Although, she thought it wasn't possible to feel more exhausted then she did; walking back to Coates had drained her even further. Still, she didn't feel like sleeping just yet. To her, to him, to both of them, it felt like the perfect timing for them.

Them? They were nothing to each other. So why did she act like they were? Was this actually what she wanted? Sure as hell it wasn't what he wanted. He was just just in it for the amusement. To him, she was nothing but a distraction from reality.

But she couldn't help but feel as if they both cared for each other. The scene made her heart beat faster. For what reason, she as not sure of, though she sure as hell enjoyed the feeling.

Her mouth was shaped into a smile in between kisses, when their noses would bump into each other occasionally as they'd position their heads differently. Her eyes would stay shut through it all, though she could feel his shaggy hair tickling her eyelids as he stayed on top of her.

The thought of her turning over in the bed, lying on top of him, was an unfamiliar - not to mention ambitious - thought. And she knew all to well that she shouldn't be doing it. He claimed the upper hand like a wolf claims its pray.

And so she let the thought slip out and away. Not thinking, just doing.

Their bodies moved as one as he thrust himself into her, making her gasp for air. In the beginning it was painful, but when getting used to him inside of her, she felt like he fit into her perfectly. Soft moans would escape both of them as they kept going.

Her fingers were braided into her hair and he was clenching his hands into fists as he breather heavily.

He pulled out and then in again, and they went on with this for quite some time, both lost in each other. Exploring one another in a way they never had before. Exploring the affection hidden inside of themselves. Affection they had never come across until that very moment.

In a sudden movement he moved out, and away. She could feel the bed escalate slightly as he got out and she could hear his feet tap against the tiles as he stalked of to God-knows-where to do God-knows-what.

Within a brief minute or so, he was back in bed by her side.

And she waited for something to happen. For him to enter her again, or maybe kiss her passionately. She was something very close to desperate for him to do so, though she did not take initiative to do anything herself, because she didn't want him to think of her as just that.

Her fantasies were cut short at the sound of grinding metal. The sound was ear piercing and made a shiver run up and down her spine. She could feel his hands on her legs as they were being separated forcefully. What really drew attention, though, was the cold object resting against her inner thigh.

Her breathing was heavy as she waited for his next move. It was the blade of a knife, no doubt in that. And something told her that Drake wasn't just going to use the weapon just to scare her - they were way beyond that stage in their relationship.

Hah! What a relationship. This truly was Drake overpowering her. She had never felt as suppressed, as ignorant, as oblivious, as small. Yet there was an inner strength still inside of her. A strength that told her to go on and not give him what he wanted.

She could feel him putting pressure on the knife, making the first couple of blood drops spill from her thigh.

Her eyes closed. At first, lightly, like when you apply eyeshadow, or go to sleep. Then more forcefully. Her head starter thrusting and her temple and jaw both clenched, giving her a headache.

Don't scream, she thought to herself. Because that is what he wanted. He wanted her to wail and sob over her neuropathic pain and beg him to cut it off right away.

And he'd laugh at her and disobey her weak attempts of authority.

In the end she'd be covered up in blood and tears and he'd probably kick her out of bed, making her painfully land on the cold tiles. And he'd be commanding her to go clean herself because he didn't like sleeping with someone unhygienic.

But he didn't seem to mind about her hygiene. At least he didn't as he ran his fingers down the side of her thigh, tickling her split skin.

She could feel his palm against the slash and without her being able to do anything about it, her weak frame shook hysterically. This was agonizing to her, but found amusing by the psychopath who had taken everything away from her. At that moment on, she hoped he'd jab the knife somewhere deadly. She could hear his snigger from somewhere above her, as if he could read her mind.

Or maybe he was becoming an animal in more ways then she thought. She wouldn't be surprised if he could sense fear. Sense loss. Sense weakness. Sense the pain that was surging through her veins. The mental pain stabbing her brain as she realized what she'd done, nonetheless who she'd done it with.

His fingers were roaming as he repositioned the blade and pushed it forward. This time deeper. This time he dragged it further, and even more blood seeped out. She could feel the warm liquid seeping down her inner thigh in bigger amounts and her teeth cupped the inside of her cheek, biting forcefully down until she could taste blood, but she kept going.

She wanted to stop the pain. More then that she wanted to stop him. She remembered the gun she had put down on the bedside table of the other bed in the room. Why hadn't she put it on his? Then she could've reached it. And then what?

It wasn't as if she had the nerve to pull the trigger, nonetheless actually kill him. After all they'd done. All they'd been through? Never.

The pain inside her head was annoying, the pain in her cheek was bad, but the pain in her legs were unbearable. And as he let the knife sink into her skin a third, a forth, a fifth, a sixth time, she felt the muscles in her body tensing further.

She felt the could taste the blood in her mouth piling up and she had to swallow the bitter taste, to prevent from chocking herself in the blood.

After the seventh cut, she felt him rolling off of her. She could hear him placing the knife on the bedside table next to his bed. Thinking of he gun, a part of her wished he didn't take advantage of it at that moment, another part of her, wished he would.

He didn't. He crept on top of her, his fingers putting pressure on her chin, tilting her head into position so she was facing him.

'It's for your own good, Lana,' she hated him. She despised him with a strong hatred. Yet, she couldn't help but turn all gooey inside as he said her name. 'Remember that.'

She felt him lean down, rather then saw him. She could feel his lips on hers, his barely brushing hers with a soft touch. Nothing rushed, nothing close to as intimate as what they'd done just minutes earlier. This was a kiss that tied them together even further.

His hand released her jaw and he laid down on his side, right behind her. His arms tugged around her waist, holding her close to him.

Her eyes were glued to the wall as she tried to fall asleep. The pain surging through her body reminded her of how she needed to leave. But the arms wrapped around her reminded her that she didn't want to. And that he wouldn't let her.

So... This chapter was unimaginably awkward to write. I was seriously sitting and blushing in my dark, abandoned writers room feeling perv for writing it. Hope you guys enjoyed it though (god, that was even more perverted, but you know what I meant!).

And thank you to the lovely GoneIsMyFave1 with her beautiful reviews that make my heart all warm and fuzzy! Thanks to her constructive criticism I have more ideas for the future, so if the rest of you want to have a say in what will happen, then leave a review as well!