Out of each and every item in that store she had managed to find the singular one that even Darcy was inclined to look at with disdain. Those emasculators so had a way of making him ...squirm. He'd used them before, years ago, back in his human life. It had taken two or three human men back then. One or two to rope that colt and hold him down, a third to wield that tool and remove those parts of the animal no longer needed. They'd squeal and kick and protest and bleed and an hour or so later they'd be back to grazing- albeit with a hobble for a few days. Their back ends swollen from those cuts. Every now and then one got infected. One died. It was part of ranching life. It always had been and yet, somehow, the sit of that apparatus in Risque's hands seemed all the more dangerous. Darcy inclined to near wince at even the thought of that cold steel agianst his flesh. The vampire not nearly foolish enough to believe that Risque, in the right state of anger, might be inclined to use them exactly as they had been intended. Darcy determined not to be the poor fool that suffered it. Her demand to know just what that tool did was met with his own vague explanation along with those efforts to dissuade her. Efforts he had known would fall short as her gaze narrowed upon him. Those years of obedience were quick to see him offer that preferred explanation- one further expanded upon far more bluntly then he desired by Mimi. Darcy's own irritation at that young woman was silenced by the manner in which Risque spun like a whip to fix the little dolt with a glae of her own- offering her that veritable praise before declaring that no one had asked her opinion. Those very words, as silken and smooth as always, layered with an undercurrent of warning even that human seemed inclined to pay heed too.

His lovers attention returned to him then. Risque so declaring she hardly needed livestock to find a purpose for that tool- her mind having already found uses for it. SHe mused her words then, as if considering them. How he adored the workings of her mind, the way she spoke, the way she seemed to balance her words so precariously and yet when those very words were turned upon himself the vampiric cowboy was inclined to find them far less alluring. Her blue gaze met his own in that moment, Risque snapping that tool shut with distinct purpose as she spoke, that sound prompting the barest twitch of the cowboys lip and yet he was already assured she had seen it. She missed nothing. Risque content to seize upon his discomfort as she did any vein of weakness. Her question however so prompted that shake of his head.

"No Ma'am."

That Southern politeness, it seemed, was hardly inclined to fail him even now. Darcy distinctly sure that off all the promises he had made to his lover over the years that he was determined to keep this one most of all and never yet offer her a reason to make use of her newest 'toy'. Her attention was fortunately captured by those shoes he held then, Darcy obediently offering them towards her for her to try on as Risque added that emasculator to the pile of objects she had collected, the sheer amount so prompting that query from his lips- that mistake becoming near quickly apparent to him as she rounded upon him. Her words, like liquid honey, so laced with that dangerous warning once more. Darcy, this time, so flawlessly shifting to that compliment in an effort to appease her fickle temperament. If she desired those things then who was he to deny her? It was her right to have what she desired. Always. The tense silence seemed to last but a moment longer before Risque moved toward the nearest chair. Darcy taking that moment to shift those emasculators from the pile and back onto the shelf before so obediently moving to bend down before her and assist in taking that offered leg to fit those new boots in place.

How distinctly...rare it was to see his mate without those towering heels. Risque, in those boots, far ...shorter then she so normally was and yet her very presence remained unchanged, the vampiric queen commanding that room with each stride before she declared those boots sufficient- even without that desired heel. Risque shifted then, turning her back towards him, Darcy once more doing as he had been near trained to do as he reached to assist in unzipping that dress for her slender, femanine figure, that fabric so clinging in all the right places. Risque moved to stride back into that dressing room then and yet she was quick re-emerge only moments later dressed in nothing save those boots and that dark blue lingerie that so instantly captured every ounce of his attention. He had seen her body before, time and time again, Risque nothing if not bold in the manner she wore but all of her clothing. The vampiric Queen confident in every curve and swell of her figure and yet how alluring she looked in that moment. How quickly that want, that need so seemed to strike him until he was forced to shift uncomfortably where he stood as a familiar, dull ache so took hold within his loins.

Risque wasted no time as she strode through that store to selecting the clothing she desired more than what that fool of a girl had chosen for her. Darcy inclined to simply watch as she moved. Those protective, predatory instincts so seizing him darkly with that combination of simple lust and vampiric need. How easy it would be to enjoy Mimi as a snack before so attempting to coax Risque into allowing him her affections within that very store. It took several moments longer then it surely should have for the vampiric man to become aware of the question so being asked of him, those two shirts held before him a last seeming to come into focus as Darcy so remembered his place- and his role- the vampire quick to insist the black shirt was far more her style and colour before his mate strode back into that dressing room with a sweet, tempting sway of her hips that only further garnered his attention. For several moments afterward the vampire merely watched that curtain, the very sway of his mates hips near emblazoned upon his mind before that sense seemed to return to him at last. Darcy turned neatly on his heel to stride over to that counter and offer Mimi that card before making his way back outside and into that cold night air to see to turning that sports car into something far more....reliable for the rest of their journey.

God how he missed trucks like this. Those swirling shadows crafted by his own magic were quick to replace that sports car with that near beast of a truck. One even Mimi, with her Southern tastes, seemed to appreciate. The truck, however, was hardly the only thing worth appreciating in the dark of the night. Risque emerged from that store mere moments later dressed in those jeans, boots and black shirt- a shirt she had noticeably altered and yet Darcy so hardly found himself inclined to complain as that fabric clung to her figure highlighting every sensual curve. She moved with feline-like grace toward that truck then, her belt adorned with some sort of hunting knife and that emasculator in turn. Risque, perhaps, the only being he had ever seen to wear an emasculator as an accessory and yet even his disdain for that very tool so hardly lingered long as his mismatched gaze near hungrily poured over her figure. She was....gorgeous in that outfit. Her beauty beyond compare. Darcy so readily captivated by his own mate in that moment as that sound of appreciation fell near unbidden from his own lips. Risques attention snapped from Mimi and towards himself then, the shop assistant taking that opportunity to place the rest of those bags into the back of the truck before handing back that card and hurrying into the safety of the store. Darcy inclined to forget about her near instantly. Mimi was nothing, after all, compared to his own mistress.

That vampiric Queen seemed to glide across the earth once more as she approached that truck. Darcy's own gaze lingered upon her still. The vampiric cowboy seeking even the slightest hint of approval from her as she climbed into the passenger seat. That burst of vampiric speed saw the man easily take up his own place in the driver's seat a moment later, that engine roaring to life beneath his hands and at the touch of his own affinity. Risque's own fingers extended then, his mate investigating those changes to the interior of the car as she traced over those new dials and controls. Her voice was a sinfully perfect as always as she queried that very car and its purpose. Darcy offering that nod of his own head.

"Dat sports car is to low to da ground, when we go off da road, like ya said, dat sports car would hit da ground on account of it bein uneven an all rocky like. Dis truck is big an tall enough we aint gunna go scrapin it and it got suspension enough dat we ain't gonna get thrown round to much neither."

It had been longer then he cared to remember since he had made that drive up to his family rand and yet, if that road was anything like he remembered, that truck would spare them getting bogged or worse along that path. Risque, he was certain, would not tolerate such poor driving. Considerations of that road however so hardly lasted long. Darcy's mind content to linger on a far more....pressing matter. She always looked so divine, so desirable- at least to him and yet tonight she was.....more so. Those Southern adornments to her outfit were alluring, tempting and sinfully sexy. Her very figure so prompting those wants from within him. An uncomfortable ache settling within his loins at even the sight of her. God how he wanted here. Here and now. Within that very truck. Southern style. A way he had never had her before and surely never asked of her. Those intimate moments between them, after all, were almost always on her terms alone and only ever when she permitted them from him. To....request her affections in a specific fashion was bold. Bolder then he was normally inclined to be unless her mood was sufficiently inclined to such things. In 150 years Darcy had never before having made a sexual request od her and yet, she was his mate now. Surely he might be permitted to merely suggest an evening idea of sorts- if only or his birthday. Birthdays, after all, were one of the few celebrations Risque was inclined to permit within her darkened palace. That utterance of her name into the quietude of the truck prompted a momentarily silence before her gaze cut sharply towards him, her voice near silken smooth as she encouraged him onward.

Darcy's tongue toyed with the tip of his fang in contemplation, the vampire weighing those words with a practised caution before offering them. That request in turn only furthering that silence within the dark of the truck cabin. Her features remained blank, unreadable, void of any indication of her thoughts. Both vampires poised upon a veritable precipice in that moment as each seemed to attempt to read the other in the impossible quiet. Risque, at last, querying whether he meant the very boots she wore now as her sharp gaze fell back upon them. Darcy nodded his head in turn.

"Yar. Day look mighty fine on ya. I like em."

How he more than merely 'liked' them and yet those words were chosen with care all the same as his mate seemed to contemplate that request even further. A look near akin to...bafflement seeming to find her features. As if she was confused by that request. This perhaps the first time she had ever been given cause to consider hisdesires within that relationship they shared. Volatile though it was at times. Darcy careful all the same to prevent but even an ounce of challenge to linger within his frame lest she take that request as a bid for control. She pondered that request further seeming to query whether or not he was sure that it was this his might request of her. Darcy offered that nod once more.

"I know what I like, Darlin."

Those words were uttered in that wholly complementary fashion. Risque, after all, was a consistent desire he was willing to indulge within over and over again. As often as she would allow. Her sudden agreement to that very proposal, minus those socks, prompted his own gaze to lift in surprise and yet that toothy grin managed to find him all the same in a clear delight. God, how he could hardly wait for his birthday now. To have his mate here in this very truck was ...a fantasy he had long held. One that she had so graciously allowed to become all the more real. Whatever words he might have offered however were cut short by the vampire Queen's sudden query on what other desires he had that had gone unspoken for well over a century. Darcy, this time, eyeing his mistress with a near wary curiosity. She had never before asked such a thing of him. Her desires, after all, were all that truly mattered. Her features remained unreadable in their eternal perfection. Darcy, in turn, left to weight hose words with caution lest this prove to be a veritable trap. Risque nothing if not practised in such things. Darcy, as always, unwilling to provoke her displeasure. How he loathed to be a source of disappointment to her. Did she truly desire that answer? After all this time? Or did she merely seek to test him? That silence prevailed once more as the vampiric cowboy contemplated his own wants. It could not hurt, perhaps, to allow her to know of one or two of those unspoken desires. Smaller ones, perhaps, ones she could not truly hold agianst him such as his veritable desire to have her destroy Tetradore permanently. Darcy so at last allowing his mismatched gaze to meet her own.

"I ain't need ta ask for anytin' else. Yar all I need, Darlin. I reckon dough, one time, it aint be so bad if yar said ya loved me back. I ain't trying be all sentimental at ya or shit like dat, i'm just sayin, maybe one time, if please ya, one day, yar could see it back."

His shoulders lifted in a shrug of sorts, as if that very desire was no more than a simple request for her consideration. Darcy's gaze returned to that road then, the headlights flaring into life as the vampire coaxed that truck forward, the beast of a vehicle near devouring the road beneath them as it rapidly picked up speed. The drive far faster and smoother than it had been before now that their car was hardly hampered by the divots and dirt of the road beneath. It had been well over a century since he had driven that road and yet that path came to him like a near second nature as the vampire directed that car away from the dirt road and onto a far rockier, more uneven dirt track. One worn flat by the car of what he could only presume was this...caretaker coming and going from the ranch. They drove further and further outside of town, that darkness becoming all the more black, the stars above brighter and brighter with each passing mile. Darcy's own mood content to returning to something far more ...displeased the closer and closer they drew to that ranch. The truck so at last passing through that wooden front gate left often for them. Clay, it seemed, having been true to his word and let that carer know they were coming.

Darcy's gaze glanced briefly toward Risque then, his mate a picture of unreadable perfection as the pair approached that house. Those fields that adorned either side of the 'driveway' had hardly changed, fenced as they always had been by those logs and branches fastened together with horsehair rope. His mother had spent hours making just that sort of rope. It had been something to do on those winter nights that never ended. He half expected to see his family even now, leaning out onto that tiny wooden verandah, waiting for him to ride up on that old bay gelding. His teeth ground agianst one another, the sound filling that car as the vampire slowly pulled to a stop outside that tiny wooden log cabin. It was dark, silent, empty. The outhouse beside it equally so, the barn behind it just as cold in its emptiness. That new building several hundred yards away was the only one with any light. The caretakers house, he supposed, though whether or not the man himself intended to come out he hardly knew. Maybe he feared vampires. Maybe it was for the better. The sooner they got this over with the sooner they could damn well leave. A rush of vampiric speed sawy the cowboy appear at his mates door, Darcy obediently opening it for Risque to step out and onto the dusted earth before that tiny log cabin that lack of light so hardly affecting their own vampiric senses.

"Well. Dis is it."

That look on Risque's face was near unreadable. The vampiric Queen appearing ... confusing. As if she had expected something else entirely as the pair merely stood before that dark cabin. His lover so appearing to be searching for something.

"Dare ain't no more, Darlin, dis is all of it. Dat buildin' a few yards away is da stable, dat little one over dare dats, ya know, da...er....outhouse and dis 'ere was me 'ouse."

Darcy's own features frowned at those final words, his gaze cast further to the left and down the hillside, towards the tree saplings that grew tall and straight. He knew what was there and yet those family graves he intended to ignore entirely - for as long as possible. The vampire stepped forward then and onto that porch, that wood creaked painfully beneath his boots as he reached for that frayed rope door handle. Someone had replaced the rope. Maybe he shouldn't be surprised, not after all this time. The door swung open easily all the same, omitting the pair into that small kitchen with its dusted wooden floors, woodfire stove, wooden table- hand carved- along with those uneven carved chairs. That room was barely big enough for the two of them to stand comfortably and yet his mother had spent most of her time here, seated by the warmth of that stove. He could remember running inside time after time to show her the fish he'd caught, the book he'd learned to read, the new black eye he'd gotten from fighting some kid bigger than him. God he remembered ...so much ...so much he so badly desired to forget. The sound of Risque's fingers agianst the wall so suddenly seemed to prompt him from his own memory. He knew readily what she searched for.

"Dare ain't no light switch. Dare ain't no electricity. 'Ere."

His fingers reached easily into his own pocket, plucking that lighter from within. That tiny, flickering flame was easily applied to the logs resting within that stove before those flames readily took hold, bathing the room in warmth and light and revealing that house in its entirety, the kitchen, the stove, the table and that singular room that led off from it. The bedroom- and one they had all shared in his youth. Someone had restored most of that furniture. Replaced what had surely been rotting wood with new logs and yet it was hardly all they had restored. Those leather bridles hung by the door, those family portraits hung over the fire, restored to their former glory to show that family. His mother, his father, himself- barely thirteen in that black and white photograph- and his sister, clutching his mother's hand in her white Sunday dress. Church. They must have been photographed before church. It was the only time they had those clothes on. As if God gave a damn. Why the fuck would anyone.....restore this? Was nothing allowed to simply fall into ruin? Darcy, this time, averting his gaze from those judging eyes of his family. Risque, for her part, having remained near dangerously silent. She had known he had come from a ranching family and yet, he suspected, she had never truly known, until know, from how little he had truly come. This veritable truth one Darcy had kept hidden for well over a century.

We are rough men and used to rough ways.