How rare it was that they were bold. Darcy far more used to his victims fleeing in some terrified, pathetic panic then attempting to face him and yet- this one had always been surprising. Daring. Different. Raylin. He remembered her. How few he ever remembered. Perhaps that was part of her appeal as a victim. She did not scream or beg like the ones that came before her. Oh, he could hear her heart flutter and dance- betraying her sad little act of confidence and yet- that she had the spine to try it all the same was nothing short of amusing. Still, she could surely be made to beg. To scream. It would only take a little push, a little pull, a little....bite. The simple contemplation of that act alone prompted the Southern vampire to run his tongue across his fangs. How desperately he desired to taste that blood. Hot, fresh and flowing right from a punctured vein. Her wrist would be convenient, her neck more ideal or perhaps- if he could hold her down without snapping her like a twig- that femoral vein that ran inside her thigh and groin. How rarely he ever sought that vein out. It was difficult, inconvenient in an unwilling victim and yet...so worth that reward. His mismatched gaze lingered upon her for several moments longer as those decidedly predatory thoughts turned behind his eyes.

She snaps his name then, or at least, the name he had given her that night all those months ago. The little woman attempting to put every bit of angry venom she had into the word before declaring she hardly shared with murderers. As if murderer was somehow some sort of insult. As if she dared to brand him with some label he hardly knew he had. He had been a murderer long before he had been a vampire. Beneath Risque's command that talent had merely blossomed. It had been honed, shaped and guided at his mistresses whims and oh how much better a man he was for it. Perhaps he should bring Raylin back to her. Perhaps they could share her blood. His mate the single and only being Darcy so ever permitted to feed beside him and yet...it would be no small task to carry a body, dead or alive, back through the streets without being seen. No. Raylin would make for a far more viable snack. A drink on the beach. It had been far too long since he had engaged in that. What did he want? Really? Her words interrupted his thoughts once more. Darcy having been merely content to stare at the unfortunate women for those past few moments before her question seemed to at last elicit some response from the deadly creature. One eye rose every so slightly, his lips parted to allow his tongue to brush across the tip of one fang. That very breath allowing him to taste the air. To taste her.

"I did nothin' to yar life. Yar did it to yarself. Ya chose ta ignore yar friend dat night. I didn't kill 'im. Yar did. Yar made ya choices."

How easy it was to twist her words back upon herself. To blame her for the death of....whatever his name had been. The man had valiantly tried to save her. More than once and yet she had been far, far too easy to lure. Darcy, as he had done that night those months ago, content to play with his food. Rayling stepped forward then, her hand reaching out to snatch that flask back off him before she sat herself down again. This, by far, one of the most bold attempts he had ever seen. As if she believed her bravado might somehow defend her. A soft snort pushed itself free of his nose, the vaguest hint of a smile touching the corner of his lip before Darcy moved to crouch down abruptly beside her. How determined she was not to look at him. His hand reached forward, a single cool finger extended to catch beneath her chin and turn her head towards him. The vampire attempting to force her to meet his gaze now.

"Wat you tryin' ta play at, Raylin? Hmm?"

He so hardly afforded the woman a chance to answer. His finger released her in near the same moment, allowing her head to jerk back in whatever direction she desired. His fingers, instead, reached forward to caress her cheek. That touch almost.....gentle as they trached over her jaw and along her shoulder.

"Yar can be as brave as ya like, but i can 'ear yar 'eart- an it's given ya away."

How frantically it was beating! How much it spoke to that predator within as Darcy's finger continued to trail along her shoulder before lifting away. The scent of her skin was...intoxicating. The blood that pumped just below that paper thin surface was so very enticing and yet...it would hardly be a game if he simply tore her throat out here and now. The faintest hint of a simper seemed to dance of the vampires lips then as Darcy leaned away. Oh, he had a glorious game in mind.

"Tell me, Raylin, do ya gamble?"

How little choice she truly had....

We are rough men and used to rough ways.