Drake Quotes

“Where's Lucy?" I asked the others.
"At the farmhouse," Nicholas said with grim satisfaction.
"How'd you manage that?"
"She's in a closet." Solange rolled her eyes.
I stared at Nicholas. "You locked your girlfriend in a closet? Smooth."
"She's going to eviscerate him," Quinn said cheerfully.”
― Alyxandra Harvey, Blood Feud

“Very possibly this was the night my white-knight complex, as Solange put it, would get me killed. Someone had better write a poem about it. It was only fair.”
― Alyxandra Harvey, Blood Feud

“You're right, I do want to f*ck you. I want to pick you up and carry you to my room and slam into you until you scream my name over and over again as you shatter to pieces underneath me...”
― K.A. Robinson

“Rolling flat onto his back, Drake shuddered. Then he inhaled deeply. He stared up at the night sky. "We're going to win," he said, his voice calmer, less strained. "This is nothing. Keep going. They can't stop us. Jason, give Rachel the necklace. Tell her . . . tell her I'm sorry. Tell her . . . I wanted . . . to show her . . . my little valley. Tell her I tried."
His voice was growing weak. Farfalee smoothed a hand over his brow. "Shhh," she whispered. "Be still, Drake. You can rest now. You did it. Rest. We'll take it from here."
"Failie," he whispered, his hand twitching toward the back of his neck with little jerks. "Where's my seed?" His head tipped sideways. The breath went out of him.”
― Brandon Mull, Chasing the Prophecy

“You are mine, Aisling. You are mine today, tomorrow and five hundred years from now. You will always be mine. I do not give up my treasures, kincsem. You would do well to remember that.”
― Katie MacAlister, Light My Fire

“YOLO = you only live once - *warning not to be over used*”
― drake

“I can't live without the sun shining down on my face, and I can't dream without the stars kissing me goodnight.”
― S.L. Jennings, Taint

“Well, if it’s an order,” she said on a gentle tease, warmed by his words in spite of herself. “You know, for such a cerebral man, you certainly have powerful physical appetites.”

His lips curved in a seductive smile. “Of course, I do. I’m a Byron, after all. It’s in my blood.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, The Bed and the Bachelor

“Your ass is actually very nice. Well, at least what I can see of it. If your ass is that nice, no wonder they have an obsession with your—”

“Concentrate,” I grumble, snapping my fingers in front of his face.

“I’m trying,” he lies, still staring down at my ass. I start to turn to face him instead of sitting comfortably on the bed, just so my ass will be facing the wall, but the door flies open and slams into the wall.

Drake curses, then he grunts a, “Fuck me.”

“The fuck is going on in here?” Drex growls, letting his eyes drop to my exposed back, and apparently my exposed ass. Not my fault this hospital keeps the ridiculous slit in the back of their gowns.

“We’re having a conversation,” I say with a sweet smile. “It’s full of dirty innuendo and intriguing assumptions about my pussy.”

“No the hell it isn’t,” Drake refutes, looking at me like I’ve lost my damn mind.

“But you were just saying that my—”

“Damn it, you crazy woman! Don’t give him a reason to break my arms while I can’t fight back!” Drake barks.”
― C.M. Owens, Property of Drex #2

“We’ll give you two a minute,” Eve says softly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Drake tells her in a bored drawl. “Axle said he doesn’t trust the Family right now, and that I’m to stay put or he’ll make me look as unpretty as he is.” He shudders dramatically. “I’m too pretty not to be pretty.”
― C.M. Owens, Axle's Brand

“Before I can even peel open my eyes, there are voices around me.

“Axle might kill you if he finds you lying on the bed beside her,” Eve is saying from somewhere in the room.

“Like I won’t hear him the second they all get back. I’ll have plenty of time to move,” Drake tells her, sounding really close to my side. “I want her to think we got married in Vegas and that now I’m the Blackbird king. Should be interesting.”
― C.M. Owens, Axle's Brand

“soI seriously don't like that retard...”
― Drake Merwin

“Has Orc shown up here?” But neither Caine nor Diana answered. Both were staring at Drake, who sauntered toward them, all his cockiness restored, no longer the ragged scarecrow who had wept when he saw the melted stump of his hand lying on the tile floor. “Drake,” Caine said. “We thought you were dead.”
“I’m back,” Drake said. “And better than ever.”
The red tentacle unwrapped itself from around his waist, like a python releasing its victim.
“Like it, Diana?” Drake asked.
The arm, that impossible bloodred snake, coiled above Drake’s head, swirled, writhed. And then, so fast that the human eye could barely register the movement, it snapped like a bullwhip.
The sound was a loud crack. A mini–sonic boom.
Diana cried out in pain. Stunned, she stared at the cut in her blouse and the trickle of red from her shoulder.
“Sorry,” Drake said with no attempt at sincerity. “I’m still working on my aim.”
“Drake,” Caine said and, despite the blood, despite Diana’s wound, he grinned. “Welcome back.”
“I brought some help,” Drake said. He extended his left hand, and Caine shook it awkwardly with his right. “So. When do we go take down Sam Temple?”
― Michael Grant

“Drake's whip hand spun Diana like a top.
She cried out. That sound, her cry, pierced Caine like an arrow.
Diana staggered and almost righted herself, but Drake was too quick, too ready.
His second strike yanked her through the air. She flew and then fell.
“Catch her!” Caine was yelling to himself. Seeing her arc as she fell. Seeing where she would hit. His hands came up, he could use his power, he could catch her, save her. But too slow.
Diana fell. Her head smashed against a jutting point of rock. She made a sound like a dropped pumpkin.
Caine froze.
The fuel rod, forgotten, fell from the air with a shattering crash.
It fell within ten feet of the mine shaft opening. It landed atop a boulder shaped like the prow of a ship.
It bent, cracked, rolled off the boulder, and crashed heavily in the dirt.
Drake ran straight at Caine, his whip snapping. But Jack stumbled in between them, yelling, “The uranium! The uranium!”
The radiation meter in his pocket was counting clicks so fast, it became a scream.
Drake piled into Jack, and the two of them went tumbling.
Caine stood, staring in horror at Diana. Diana did not move. Did not move. No snarky remark. No smart-ass joke.
“No!” Caine cried.
“No!”
Drake was up, disentangling himself with an angry curse from Jack.
“Diana,” Caine sobbed.
Drake didn’t rely on his whip hand now, too far away to use it before Caine could take him down. He raised his gun. The barrel shot flame and slugs, BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM.
Inaccurate, but on full automatic, Drake had time. He swung the gun to his right and the bullets swooped toward where Caine stood like he was made of stone.
Then the muzzle flash disappeared in an explosion of green-white light that turned night into day. The shaft of light missed its target. But it was close enough that the muzzle of Drake’s gun wilted and drooped and the rocks behind Drake cracked from the blast of heat.
Drake dropped the gun. And now it was Drake’s turn to stare in stark amazement. “You!”
Sam wobbled atop the rise. Quinn caught him as he staggered.
Now Caine snapped back to the present, seeing his brother, seeing the killing light.
“No,” Caine said. “No, Sam: He’s mine.”
He raised a hand, and Sam went flying backward along with Quinn.
“The fuel rod!” Jack was yelling, over and over. “It’s going to kill us all. Oh, God, we may already be dead!”
Drake rushed at Caine. His eyes were wide with fear. Knowing he wouldn’t make it. Knowing he was not fast enough.
Caine raised his hand, and the fuel rod seemed to jump off the ground.
A javelin.
A spear. He held it poised. Pointed straight at Drake.
Caine reached with his other hand, extending the telekinetic power to hold Drake immobilized.
Drake held up his human hand, a placating gesture. “Caine…you don’t want to…not over some girl. She was a witch, she was…”
Drake, unable to run, a human target. The fuel rod aimed at him like a Spartan’s spear.
Caine threw the fuel rod. Tons of steel and lead and uranium.
Straight at Drake.”
― Michael Grant, Hunger

“He didn’t mind Drake so much. Drake was a creep.
It was the girl who made Orc want to cry.
She was a monster. Like Orc. Begging for death. Begging for someone to let her go to her Jesus.
Kill me, kill me, kill me, she begged every day and every night.
Orc took a deep swig.
Tears seeped from his human eyes and fell into the rocky crevices of his face.”
― Michael Grant, Plague

“Drake." His name was breathless on her lips. "What does it mean?"
The jolt coursed through him again. No one had ever asked him that. He reached over and took her hand. Rubbing little circles in her palm with the pad of his thumb he said deeply, "'Dragon,' I believe. My father was obsessed with them."
"Oh."
She would be so easy to seduce. Drake drew her hand to his mouth and just touched the backs of her fingers with his lips. She inhaled sharply, and he smiled. "I don't have to ask what Serena means." He watched the play of emotions on her face. "'Tis obvious." He glided her fingertips across her lips. "And so fitting."
Serena gasped, snatching her hand away. Her color filled her face. "What art thou doing?"
Drake released an abrupt laugh. Some part of him, some part he hadn't known was there, felt like he had known her forever. "I don't know. I fear I lose my grasp on reality and propriety when you are near.”
― Jamie Carie, The Duchess and the Dragon

“Your ass is actually very nice. Well, at least what I can see of it. If your ass is that nice, no wonder they have an obsession with your—”
“Concentrate,” I grumble, snapping my fingers in front of his face.
“I’m trying,” he lies, still staring down at my ass. I start to turn to face him instead of sitting comfortably on the bed, just so my ass will be facing the wall, but the door flies open and slams into the wall.
Drake curses, then he grunts a, “Fuck me.”
“The fuck is going on in here?” Drex growls, letting his eyes drop to my exposed back, and apparently my exposed ass. Not my fault this hospital keeps the ridiculous slit in the back of their gowns.
“We’re having a conversation,” I say with a sweet smile. “It’s full of dirty innuendo and intriguing assumptions about my pussy.”
“No the hell it isn’t,” Drake refutes, looking at me like I’ve lost my damn mind.”
― C.M. Owens, Property of Drex #2

“Solen spelar över henne, får henne att se ut som en drake gjord av is och frost och kyla.”
― Lovisa Wistrand, Drakviskaren

“Fråga aldrig en drake om hennes ålder.”
― Lovisa Wistrand, Drakviskaren

“Du kan inte beordra en drake till någonting.”
― Lovisa Wistrand, Drakviskaren

“Och jag måste göra allt för att överleva.
Döda.
För att inte dödas själv.”
― Lovisa Wistrand, Drakviskaren

“Forse non siete un drago, non del tutto almeno", concluse. "Forse avete un cavaliere dentro, al quale nessuno ha mai insegnato niente.”
― Virginia Dellamore, Tu che avanzi nel buio della notte

“In single-male matings, a drake can usually be given two to five females, although males sometimes have favorites and may not mate with the others.”
― Dave Holderread, Storey's Guide to Raising Ducks: Breeds, Care, Health