Fear Is Not the End of This
title comes from the Live song "I Alone"
Five days pass after Drake's jealous rage-induced feeding of Mindy that left her unconscious and a low on blood without him so much as approaching her. Her pallor returns to normal and she finds herself re-energized, the markings on her neck and forearms fading. Every day she expects him to corner her before lunch; every night she expects to find him perched on her windowsill as she's preparing for bed. He's keeping his distance and she should be happy and relieved but she's not.
As she feared, she has become addicted to him feeding from her, to the feeling and to him. She wants him to bite her, to drink deeply from her veins, to make her feel sparks, tingling, as desires builds within her.
She gets a paper cut during homeroom, and the fresh scent of her blood hits Drake's nostrils and she sees a darkness and hunger when their eyes briefly meet as she places the side of her finger in her mouth and sucks gently at the wound. She thinks that this is it, he's going to grab her in the hall and pull her aside, sinking his fangs into her flesh before he's sure that they're safe from prying eyes.
He doesn't.
On night six, Mindy wakes up in the middle of the night with cold sweats. She's getting headaches and she's nauseous. Withdrawal. She is experiencing actual symptoms of withdrawal. This has to end.
On night nine, she goes over to the Parker-Nichols house while Josh is at work. Megan raises an eyebrow but doesn't ask any questions about why Mindy is looking for Drake before gesturing towards the stairs. The door to the room he shares with Josh is partially open and she slips inside, closing and locking it behind her because if this goes accordingly, they don't need the chance that Megan or Josh is going to bust in on Drake feeding from her.
Drake is sitting on the sofa, strumming on his guitar. He doesn't look up and he doesn't turn around. "I didn't order delivery."
"I—" she frowns. "Why?"
"Didn't know that you delivered. And last time you left a bad taste in my mouth."
Mindy walks around the sofa so that she's facing him. "Last time you could have killed me."
He carefully sets the instrument down and scoots forward. "And you wanted to kill me."
She swallows. "But I didn't. I could have but I chose not to. I thought that I felt your heart beating."
"You didn't kill me because technically I'm still alive?"
"I didn't kill you because technically you're still human and despite how much I dislike you, Josh still loves you and I care very much about him."
Drake pretends to weigh her words. He stands and takes a step towards her. "So it's not because you want and need me to feed from you just as badly as I want to?"
The closest she will come to admitting any such thing to him is her unbuttoning her shirt a little before pulling the collar away from her neck and ordering him, "Just bite me."
His canines lengthen and sharpen and Mindy finishes closing the distance between them. He reaches out, brushing her hair off her shoulder. It's familiar and still a little discomforting for her. She inhales slowly and tilts her head to the side, closing her eyes.
He craves her. He craves her blood. And here she is, presenting herself to him on a silver platter. Oh, he could tear her throat open if he didn't need her, if he didn't want her.
Mindy hears a growl deep in the back of his throat and her breath catches in the instant before his fangs pierce her flesh. She grips Drake's forearms, bracing herself and relaxes almost immediately, diving headfirst into the euphoria. She needs this. She won't admit that she wants it but she needs it like she needs oxygen, like she needs to be the best at everything she ever does.
Drake retracts his fangs and sucks, drawing her blood into his mouth and he hears her sigh accompanied by her thought as loudly as if she were screaming in his ear.
Yes.
His thirst, his hunger, is almost sated. His tongue sweeps over the bite before he pulls his head from the crook of her neck.
It won't be long now, Drake thinks, as he guides her over to the sofa and sets her down, sitting beside her.
Mindy rests there, languid, her head back, her throat still exposed, as the euphoria slip slides away. Desire swirls and twirls all about her and within her, a small voice inside tells her that she hates what she is becoming; she hates what Drake is turning her into. It hates that he can do this to her; it hates that she allows him to do this to her.
Mindy shifts, raising her head as she turns it to look at Drake. "I could have liked you once."
Drake shrugs, his eyes lingering on her neck and the exposed skin of her chest, just above her breasts. "I might have cared once."
Reason and sensibility start to nudge the desire away. You're stronger than this, the little voice tells her. You don't want this. You don't want him. You want…
Mindy's hands move up to the buttons of her shirt. There's a brief dispute between the rational and still irrational portions of her brain over whether to button up or to finish unbuttoning, to finally just give in completely. Rationality wins out.
She feels like she can be steady on her feet again and she pushes herself up. She combs her fingers through her hair, over the wounded side of her neck, even though her collar is high enough to cover it. She walks over to the door, unlocks it and starts to turn the knob. She glances over her shoulder at Drake. "Will you be coming over for dinner Sunday night?"