How he near relishes in the touch of her fingers agianst that bloodied wound of his neck. A brand of her own making. That flesh still stung and ached from the slice and cut off her fangs and yet somewhere within the depths of his own depraved mind he so twists and contorts that very pain to a pleasure of sorts. One brought about by her attention and affection upon him. How he craves her touch like a moth to the flame. That vampiric man as much her own creation as any being ever had been. That very dominance within him, stoked into life and creation by Risque herself, the very thing that had seen him rise to the top of each and every coven they had ever ruled over so warred agianst her own suppression of him, her own demand for submission. Darcy rallied agianst the very being he had been made to be and yet- his very love for her demanded it from him all at once. Darcy truly a creature at war within himself. It was the very nature of the vampire breed, after all, to seek more, to desire more, to crave dominance and weed out that weakness and yet for all that territorialism his desire to possess her is equally as strong. To protect her. Guard her. Keep her. Risque a goddess made flesh. His loyalty far to potent to ever allow him to make that true challenge agianst her leadership and yet how dangerously hot his own blood had become beneath the thin veneer of his skin. He loved her to much to rise agianst her. Those protective instincts within him far to strong and yet that capability existed still. Somewhere within. Like a cat wholly content to merely flex its claws on occasion. One that led to that inevitable dance betwixt them. One that became more complex with each and every step and yet one that she too seemed to relish within the challenge off. As if each fed off the very madness of the other. That moment of tension so seemingly gone as quickly as it arrived.

Her touch is idle, contemplative and yet how very aware he was off each and every slide and caresses of her finger as he speaks his plan and she paints his own blood upon his neck like some macabre artwork. It is nothing if not distracting and yet Darcy in turn is nothing if not professional. He hardly flinches, hardly moves. The vampire allowing her to do as she pleased and was so surely her right. His mind remains fixated upon that task at hand in delivering to his Mistress that very plan he had formulated for the survival of their bar and coven. They had been caught off guard, unaware and unprepared. An insult they need rectify swiftly and mercilessly and yet to rally agianst a being such as Cade with little save for rage and open violence- to encourage the very open warfare Cade desired- would do little but play into the other vampires hands. Darcy paused but briefly to allow his own words to further turn within the darkened embrace off his beloved's thoughts as his finger traced along that blueprint before them. The Southern Vampire pointed towards several of those key locations that would serve as veritable bloodbaths for that upcoming battle. Syn was an advantageous location. One that would lessen the glaring weakness of their lacking numbers and force Cade to play that aggressive role. If that battle so went to plan they could spare their own fighters for as long as possible, ration them out if need be before that final assault. This game so surely one of endurance rather than outright sprint and yet the success of that very plan depend upon Risque herself. If she found fault in that proposal he would have precious few opportunities to rectify it before she chose to act of her own accord. How well her near glorious, reckless violence had served them in the past and yet this battle, here and now, was not made for such action. He need turn her mind to his own. Make her see the sense in his own plans. Darcy nothing if not.....practiced in guiding her thoughts on occasion and so making his own ideas appeal to Risque in turn.

His Beloved was silent for several moments, Darcy's mismatched gaze so shifting away from that paperwork and onto Risque herself once more, his eyes so roving across her graceful figure with that ever-present appreciation. As if each and every move and sway off her feminine form so allured him in some fashion. His. How deeply that possession ran like a rotted wound still festering. That very prospect of war perhaps only furthering those already impossible fixations though for now he says nothing of them. For now his attentions remain firmly upon that battle and those cats. Just what role those felines might play in that assault so depending upon his Lovers ability to command them. In all those years he had lingered as her veritable shadow he had never truly seen the full depths of that power unleashed. What reason had their been? Risque, for all her grandeur, was rarely inclined to display her full hand when it came to the extent of her powers. Such a thing only sensible. That very offer off a demonstration wholly unexpected and yet so decidedly quick to capture his interest. How very intrigued he was to see such a thing. That singular word offered as his head nodded.

Her fingers lifted near smoothly to her lips then, that gesture once more near idle and yet his gaze is fixated near instantly. How very tormentingly...arousing it was to watch that soft pillow of her lip part to lick his blood from her very fingers. That rumbling sound that rises within his throat so giving away that veritable combination of desire and want and hunger that tugged within himself all at once at the mere sight. How quickly that saliva coated his own teeth and tongue at the mere thought of that blood and yet too how very uncomfortable his jeans were so prone to be in those moments in which she stood as a near goddess among men before him, bathed in that moonlight to lick clean his blood from her fingers. Yet still- that promise of a demonstration lingered. Darcy near expectant of....something. Little seeming to occur save for the fashion in which his own Lynx rose upon that chair to sit more upright as if poised and awaiting some command that so hardly seemed to have come. Was that it? Surely it was something more? Darcy frowned ever so slightly in that contemplation, his gaze searching but briefly for some sign his Mistress had released that very power before her words readily found him once more. Those melodious notes drawing his own gaze from the darkness as they spoke once more of Cade. Her laughter like a chilling breath into the night. Risque nothing if not determined to turn Cade's very ego agianst him. Her confidence in her own spies assured. Darcy hardly inclined to doubt her in this. Her spies would not fail her. Risque did not permit failure. Her very insistence that she would show Cade the meaning of true brutality so prompted that faint simper to his own lips at the mere consideration of that. He had seen Risque carry out such promises before on those who dared to scorn her will, as if they believed they had some right to deny her. Darcy never tiring of those displays. His disdain for Cade only furthering his very delight in that concept.The other man was not....unappealing to the eye. Cade having tried on several occasions over several years to make that play for Risque herself. Genuine, at first and yet once it had become clear Risque did not favour him and his actions only seemed to bring about that outrage in Darcy himself those flirtatious habits had become something of a game to the blonde. One that had very nearly given Cade excuse to obliterate Darcy himself as Risque had so shrewdly observed. He would not fall for that ficking morons plan a second time.

"Da more information dem spies bring me da better. Imma lookin' in ta a few tings meself."

Information about Blue Moon was one thing, information about Cade himself proving harder to source and yet Darcy was nothing if not determined to find a way. Vampires as old as Cade did not exist without ever having displayed the full extent of their powers before. Someone within this world would have seen him act. Darcy's own cunning mind turning about that very consideration as Risque wandered from him then and towards the edge of that rooftop. It was his own curiosity that saw him shift from that table to come to her side, poised upon that roof as she was and beneath that moons pallor that seemed to illuminate her perfect skin and flawless figure. She was, within that moment, near ethereal in her perfection. Her simple stance alone so capturing his desires and yet- it was that realisation of what lingered below that so seemed to ensnare him entirely. He had neither heard nor scented those cats as they amassed and yet here they existed, hundreds, thousands, he hardly knew. Each of them seemingly summoned from within the depths of the city itself to surround Syn like a feline army ready and waiting. One bent entirely beneath Risques control and she stood above and before them like the Conquering Queen herself. Forcing them to bow. That single expletive of awe falling from his lips at the sight. Such power.

He could hardly help the fashion in which he stepped towards her then, Darcy no longer capable of withholding his own depraved desires in the wake of that display. The mere sight of her, that power, it was....addictive. Demanding. Arousing. Exquisite all at once. He is as drawn to her in that moment as those felines that circle below. That need for her touch a near compulsion that obliterates even his own caution. His hand finds her waist as he steps behind her, as if to feel that very power himself and beneath his own fingertips. Darcy reaching to gently cast aside that blue black hair that falls like a cascading fall down her back and expose the smooth, wanting slop off her neck to his lips. He is careful, this time, to prevent even the tip of a fang from pricking at that porcelain skin. This very gesture nothing but adoration, a need for her, a desperate attempt to satisfy that raging desire within himself stoked firmly into being by the mere sight off her own dominance. How attracted he was to that strength, that mastery, to her. Those possessive desires flaring all the more as she willingly allows his veritable worship off her in that moment, tilting her head just so as to afford him even more of her neck. Those kisses patterned smoothly along with that whispered, heated utterance that she was a goddess among men. Those words spoken like a prayer, a reverie, an ode to her alone. Risque so insisting he had seen nothing yet.

"Darlin', I 'ave seen everythin' I need. You are everythin'. Ya are glory. Ya are power. Ya are it all."

Each word was a heated whisper agianst her skin and between a single, adoring kiss, his fingers so tightening but slightly upon her in that moment in the barest shift within that control he so desperately clung to while those serpents of his mind coiled only thickly and more firmly around her as if she truly were the very sun he orbited. That obsession with her only deepening. Darcy drawn to that power within her like the blood in her veins. Those dark, possessive ideals firmly ensnaring her all the more even if they can hardly be seen. Yet, tonight, he hardly chooses to gamble upon her mood any further- even despite how utterly he desires her here and now, atop that roof and above that veritable army of now circling cats. Her mood was still...precarious, after all. Later, perhaps. He steps smoothly away from behind her, despite his own clear disdain in doing so. Affording Risque that space once more even though he lingers within reach agianst that railing. Numbers. They still lacked numbers and yet if she could control that many cats, if she could bring in further vampires then he too could add to those numbers. A singular snap off his fingers seeing each and every one of those cars below roar into life. Between them both that parking lot would become a veritable death trap. Darcy nodding once more at her insistence she would screen those further vampires before sending them to him.

"As yar wish. I will train dem in da time we got."

Vampires, for the most part, were easy to train. That love for bloodshed and violence so tending to prove prominent. A reward within itself. Darcy, for all his own short temper, a decidedly good commander when the moment called. His derelict mind more then capable of finding strategy amongst chaos. Risque shifted forward once more then to rest beside him and agianst that rail as he spoke further of those plans and the potential problem of those war dogs. His mismatched gaze lingering on those cats below as they turned their obediant circles like a military drill. Risque, it seemed, holding no fear of Cade's canines.

"I dun believe he is capable of dis wit dem dogs. He might 'ave ten, twenty of dem, but not dis. Yar are right. It will be unexpected."
Unexpected, in this war, was a distinct advantage. No one, surely, would expect this amount of cats. Let alone for her command over them. That roof, within itself, provided another veritable advantage. Its height. Darcy insisting it was a near ideal place for several sniper rifles. There was at least one other vampire within that bar whom could shoot well enough to take up that role, to provide some cover for those below and pick off a decent portion of Cade's numbers before they had even arrived. Darcy so hardly anticipating that sudden offer to take that card and buy as he pleased. Risque so rarely, if ever, relinquishing control of those finances.

"Yes, Ma'am."

His own head dipped in that slight bow of sorts once more. Those Southern manners hardly faltering and yet he could hardly deny the pleasure he would take in finding those new weapons to toy with. Cade, he suspected, would not enter that battle until the end, or at least, until he had been given reason too. Risque seeming to muse upon that very idea before presenting herself as a veritable target. One that would surely lure Cade from wherever he planned to watch that battle if only for the chance to destroy her. That very idea prompting that faint growl to his lips. How he....disliked that very plan. Even despite the sense within it. Risque was more than capable of defending herself and yet to coax Cade into that battle would require her to present herself as a target. A risk. Albeit a calculated one. Darcy distinctly unhappy with that notion. With her putting herself in that firing line.

"I dun like-"

He is as quick to silence those words as they come. His gaze jerked away from her. To imply his own feelings of possession over her would not bode well. Darcy quick to shift those words, to twist and turn them not into possession but protectiveness. A far more acceptable emotion to the mind of that Hellish Queen.

"It will work, he won't be able ta resist dat chance at ya but it needs ta be somewhere me and da boys can still cover ya if dun come at ya alone."

There was every chance, after all, the Cade would see no need to engage in single combat when he might have that chance to murder Risque herself. The death of a coven leader upon the battlefield a truly potent blow. Even if a Second in Command was prepared to take that place. Risque's insistence she would join that main fighting towards the end was...pleasing. At least to those possessive parts of himself once more. Darcy offering that swift nod.

"If yar leave one of dem big cats or two inside da buildin day will make short work of any dat get inside."

Risque was right, after all, the inside of Syn was a maze. Inaccessible and inexhaustible. Any whom managed to get inside would hardly find their way out again. The very idea tugging that simper to his lips again before that sigh from his Mistress drew his attention. Risque inclined to admit that she would enjoy this. That very declaration prompting that dark chuckle from within himself. His eyes so shifting to meet her own again.

"It's been a long time since we 'ad a war. I've missed it. Do yar remember dat one we met in?"

Darcy's own gaze shifted back out across that parking lot, those veritable memories as potent for him as the very day itself he had been turned.

"People dun fight wars like dat no more. Dem bodies were piled tree and four 'igh. Dare was so much blood dat river ran red and yar could hear dat screamin' for miles. I still remember ya, comin through dem trees, I 'ought dat outfit ya was wearin' had been red ta begin wit- but it was jus blood. Painted all over ya. Yar killed everyting and everyone 'round ya. Ya stood in da middle of it all like a Queen. I watched, till we were da only ones left. Yar were perfection. I'd never seen nothin' like ya."

Those words were uttered with no small amount of reverie once more. He meant every one of them. How well he remembered that night with a near crystal clarity. The very first time he had seen his Lover. He'd barely been a vampire for more then a year himself that night. He had craved her even then. Drawn to that beacon that was her power even despite so affording her each and every chance to destroy him that very night. He hadn't been of her own making after all. A mewling vampire puppy hardly better then the newborns that had surrounded them. Why she had spared him that very night he hardly knew. More than a century later and he still stood beside her. Another thought of sorts finding him then. His tongue toying with a singular sharpened fang.

"Will yar use Tetradore an 'Arley in da battle?"

What a shame it would be if Tetradore was accidentally killed.

"She's a right piece o'work dat 'Arley. Got a tongue on 'er like I ain't seen in a damn long time. Reckon I found one of 'er relatives recently too. Breed like fucking flies dam Weres do."

We are rough men and used to rough ways.