How long had it been since she had seen such wildness in his eyes? The midnight haired queen could not recall when she saw that very look within his mismatched gaze. She swore she could feel it, at that very moment like a nervous humming energy that sang through his body that she could feel through the chain around his throat that her slender fingers wrapped around. Every part of him appeared like a wild animal desperate bolt. If his heart still beat, she was certain it would be pounding unrelenting within his chest. Those moments were precarious, perched on those back legs of her chair while witnessing a man she no longer truly recognized, blinded by his own panic. That feeling, she wondered had become his master that threatened to overrule her. Oh, she could not have that. How that thought produced a nagging sensation of her mind, a vague memory of words that served no place.

If it were anyone else, she could have easily torn into that blatant weakness like it was a symbolic feast for her to feed from. It would usually spark her with hunger, with opportunity, with any number of things that she didn't quite rise to the surface then. It would have been easy force it from him. Yet, despite it all, she gave him an inch. Risque, in that moment, chose to release some of that pressure, to uncurl her fingers from that chain, allowing it to slip lightly though her fingers as she chose to right herself. It was difficult to say if the vampire queen did so out of self-preservation or something else entirely. How likely it could be that she merely did not want to be sprawled out in that dress on the floor like some newborn fawn with poor functioning of its legs. Those heels would make for poor traction too, giving Darcy precious seconds to flee. It was impossible for her to determine what he would do. The rare time she was unable to read her mate. The moment those heels kissed the floor, her chair perfectly righted, she rose to her feet in that fluid nature that was perfectly graceful. Her heels clicked ominously with every step as she prowled forward toward him, expression unreadable as she undoubtedly appeared more predator with prey. With every punctuated step forward, it drew more pressure upon her mate. One he immediately submitted to, lowering his gaze in respect like he'd done countless times before. Yet it did little to settle that wildness. It was like approaching a cornered, unpredictable animal.

How uncharacteristically protective he was of that broken tooth of his that he would bring himself to turn on her, or to run from her. How peculiar. She was certain he had experience far worse than what she intended to do with him and yet his fangs seemed to be the end of his tether. How far could to push? She wondered as she eyed her mate with new eyes, unsure how she wished to handle this new bizarre behaviour. It would have been easy to bend him to her will and yet she wanted his willingness when she examined the damage done to him.

How a strange conflict of emotion stirred within her. Torn between that demand for complete submission and access. Accompanied with an intense desire to be the one to have drawn out that hunter's suffering was another. Along with other feelings she could not recall or currently make any sense of at that current moment. Instead, she focused on the true existing problem within the present. That tooth. She watched the struggle dance like a kaleidoscope across his pretty face before he obeyed. His lips peeled back but it was nothing short of reluctant, her gaze immediately snagged to the obvious gap. She rose her hand to reach for him as he did the unspeakable and leaned away from her touch, denying her closer inspection. Such a tangible struggle existed within her mate at that very moment and she almost felt offended that he would pull away. It did not bother her in the faintest of moments when anyone tried to squirm their way from her. In fact, she relished in it. Not him, not now. How that might have not fazed her before.. Certainly bothered her now. How she thought they had grown beyond such skittish behaviour. Her touch was what she knew he relished in, a reward of her attention even in its severity was one that he obviously craved. It set him apart from the rest. She pressed forward again. Reached for him to test the depths of his newfound limitations.. Only for him to lean away from her again like a cowering beast! His control was so desperately failing as his sudden desperation for self-preservation appeared to win out over a century of training and experience.

His very instincts seemed to scream at him to flee even though he struggled against it. She moved even just a few millimetres closer as if she thought he could overcome himself. It would seem he could not as he stole a backwards step. That single step made her frown. How that would usually spark at a hint of excitement within her and yet all it did was eye him with narrowed eyes. If he ran, would she be reduced to hunting him down? He stole yet another step away. Their bodies acted like opposing magnets, keeping a clear space between them with even the barest of mirrored movements. They were never more aware of the barest of nuance shifts within one another. It was like a deadly... dance between them. One that could have gone terribly astray at a flash of a moment. He seemed unaware of the silver-chained wall that he seemed to be inching towards, nearly backing right up into those convenient restraints.

Risque could not lie that it was so terribly convenient of him to present himself in such a vulnerable fashion. It would have been simple, quick, and utterly within her control. When was the last time she had strung him up in those burning silver binds? How beautiful he looked restrained and at her mercy. It was a far too dangerous a thought to consider and it was like he could read her mind then. She trained her stare upon him to avoid giving herself away. But still, it was as if he knew exactly of the precarious territory that her mind wandered. 'Risque.' Her name was uttered from his lips, piercing the disturbed fog in her mind. That single word, the utterance of her name was even spoken differently than the reverence he usually uttered it. It was filled to the brim with the unspoken. How most would be pleading her. Not him. His lips had already fallen over to cover that broken tooth from her vision. Like that would be enough to have her forget of its existence. Or was it to shield himself? Or prepare himself? She couldn't decide.

Regardless, that singular utterance of her name was followed by a chilling, deathly silence. She didn't move forward again as she truly considered her next move against her own instinct that she denied for now. It was surprisingly an easy feat to ignore that spark of morbid interest to want to dissect and reassemble... and test.. Train.. Test.. push.. Bend.. break.. Reassemble.. Train.. Repeat until she got the desired reaction. She tipped her head slightly. "Darcy." Her voice was so terribly formal as she took yet another step forward. Testing and pressing and yet oddly filled with a unique patience. She was uncertain if she viewed him as prey or something else. It was conflicting, even to her. Even though she made no quickened movements, no indication that harm was looming closer.. Her lover began to crumble beneath the pressure of her and the internal struggle within. Or perhaps he was distinctly aware of that looming wall behind him.

However, it was a battle that he lost that battle as he gave crumpled into his instincts and bolted. That newfound distance between them was felt.. And clearly an illusion he wished to feed himself. Surely he knew that her own instinct swelled within her chest, the need to descend upon him like a cat to a fleeing mouse. Even though he only fled to the other side of the room, next to that unlocked door which she purposefully allowed to remain so she did not chase. Risque wanted to know just how far he had fallen. She tracked his every move, aware of the furious expression that distorted his face. Interesting. That struggle seemed to intensify even more as Darcy shook his head softly in what appeared like a heavy disappointment. One that was directed by no one other than himself.. Like to deny her anything was a failure onto himself that pained him. Her cowboy seemed to battle with it for a moment longer. Never before had she possessed someone who so desperately wanted to obey and yet entirely was unable to. The wariness in his familiar eyes became all too evident as he scraped up those words with as much dignity that he could. He would lose that battle too.. She could tell.

How strange that Risque did not let her temper flare, did not destroy him verbally before she did so physically. Instead... she agreed. "You are right, you did." The words sounded neutral to her own ears. He did obey what she had asked and yet he denied the unspoken. He tried to escape her when she was far from finished with him. It did not go unnoticed the way he crumpled, almost slumped against the wall as if he could no longer stand, as if it were not for that solid surface he would fall to the ground.

That... seemed to bother her more than she'd realized.

This was not the Darcy she knew.

This was not the fearless monster at her side that would destroy worlds if she'd asked. The man that would pull the flesh from his own body and hand it to her gently. With the exception of his fang apparently. It seemed wrong to see him this way. It did not sit well within her gut or mind. But why? He was her mate. Hers. A direct connection that she had never allowed before. How if it were anyone else. She wouldn't have given her next actions a second thought. But this, this was far more complex than that. Risque made no move to prowl after him, even though her body faced him fully. She could cross that space in seconds and yet she remained where she stood, his eyes never leaving hers. Would he flee out the door?

Darcy's lips parted with only a single word falling from them. 'I'.. he didn't finish what he intended to say before a thunderous growl tore from him. It felt like one of anguish and clear distress. The tangible frustration seemed to build within himself like a bomb about to blow. Oh, she didn't even need to push for it to go off. He set it off all on his own. His failing body seemed to tense.. all of that anguish needed to go into something before he abruptly balled his hand into a tight fist that could have made his hand tremble. All that wild energy swirled within him intensified for only a fraction of a second before he burst. His fist slammed into the wall behind him with an audible crack. That backwards punch, one would think would not be as strong as it was. Yet it still made a gaping hole and caused the skeletal bones behind the plaster to shudder and groan. How she relished in that inner torment. Watched him as he unravelled when finally he said the words he had attempted to get out before but couldn't. He seemed to hate that he admitted them out loud. Against all his pride and ego he stripped himself bare.

How bitter those words sounded, even to her own ears. She actually took a breath that she let out through a small opening of her lips. How close he was to the edge of breaking beyond repair. "I see." She should have felt the disappointment.. The clawing anger at being told no. Instead, she felt something unique.. It sat within her,, nestled, a strange thing she could not describe before she spoke once more. "Very well." She uttered, neither disappointment stained her words or any kind of other typical inflections that he might expect. It was almost like she accepted his defeat for the time being as she promptly turned on the balls of her feet. Only to glide toward that victorian sofa made of the softest crushed velvet and polished darkened wood. She turned only to lower and settle upon it easily, sinking into the cushion comfortably, an arm upon the velvet-clad armrest, her long legs and knees elegantly pressed together.

She could still see Darcy there, cowering.. Undoubtedly trying to make something of her actions.

Risque was the one to break the strange silence between them. "You can still sit, can't you?" She rose a slender manicured brow, gesturing to the open space beside her. He seemed to hesitate and she nearly shook her head. "I have no need to torture you.. You are doing it far too well to yourself." She waited... expectantly.. Not bothering to wait to see if he still chose to remain by the door. As if he would even make it out of the building unless she let him.

A brief moment of dramatic silence persisted before she decided upon her next words. "I briefly met your maker.. But you never met mine... He failed to exist long before you were even a babe in your mother's womb." She said conversationally. Her expression 'failed to exist' clearly had a muddled meaning that amused her.

It would seem she was content to admit what she was alluding to. "It was a terribly vexing and complicated story, nevertheless... I eventually killed him and the rest of that coven in time. To say I didn't learn anything from him would be a lie. He was smart, for a man at least some of the time. He still possessed his obvious inadequacies. But there is one thing he told me once, that has followed me through the centuries." How rare it was that she ever brought up her maker, her opinions on him were strong and otherwise kept to herself or anything beyond a certain point of her past for that matter. Yet there was a purpose in her method even if it could not be seen.

"The only master that one must be concerned over above all else.. is fear. Why do you think that is?" She did not fully face him, but her eyes shifted, tilting her head only slightly to better view him, wherever he managed to settle. She appeared invested in what her mate had to say while perched upon her comfortable seat, no tension to be seen within her body. His fang was all but forgotten for the moment.


OOC: **ahem. Hi pups, you are all good babies <3**