She was made of contrast. Black and white. Pleasure and passion. Desire and discord made flesh. It was his own error to allow her fingers to ensnare his wrist in her iron clasp. Her strength, in that moment, near overwhelming to his own exhausted figure. He had tried, vailiently, to hide that weakness from her and yet like a metaphorical shark she had scented that blood in the water. How he loathed to appear weak before her. How is enraged him for her to believe him anything less than worthy of her attentions and yet she had seen through that thinly laced veneer of distraction he had attempted to offer with a cunning ease he should have anticipated from her. She missed nothing. She saw everything. Darcy so internal content to berate himself for allowing her grasp to find him. The vampire bracing for that lash of punishment he was assured would come. The man so hardly considering in any sense that he was undeserving of it. That he had done only what she asked and displayed those powers in a way that her very reactions deemed nothing short of pleasing to her. How readily his own twisted, ravaged mind so believed himself deserving of any punishment she saw fit to bestow upon him- as if she were truly some infallible goddess. In his eyes, she always had been. Risque capable of no wrong. If he displeased her it was surely his lesson to learn and his own fault for failing to dodge those seeking strikes in that deadly dance they so often found themselves within when it came to one another. That dominance between them ever precarious. Darcy so seeking, on occasion, to press upon the very boundaries of that submission she expected from him. She, after all, was the very reason for his own dominant nature. One that so often came into crossfires with her own.

Here and now however- that victory was firmly hers. Darcy lacking any of the strength to truly stand agianst her- and how well she knew it. Risque within that very position o both demand and force that reminder of her own position atop that hierarchy. How deeply she intended to inflict that demand however, so remained to be seen. The Southern vampire anticipating that slash of her fangs at his wrist. His neck having healed her earlier branding. His words, in that moment, designed to both placate and distract the woman. To both agree and disagree. Each word chosen with a distinct care concocted so quickly within the depths of his mind . Darcy nothing short of cunning even within the depths of his exhaustion. The man distinctly good at accepting her punishments and yet too- at seeking to twist them to something ...lesser whenever he might be given the chance. Darcy so hardly having managed to survive this very long by chance alone. Tonight, however, her movies remained...unclear. Darcy left to linger upon that every perilous cliffs edge before her lips so suddenly met his wrist, the vampire tensing near automatically within her hold only for her lips to brush that kiss agianst his skin. That same tension fleeing in near the same moment and yet that single...slip in his own resolve had so effortlessly afforded her that victory. That she-devil well aware of it in turn. Darcy so at least allowing his eyes to avert from her own in that clear submissive yield tonight. That mere grace off her lips to his flesh prompting those far more carnal desires within himself and yet he lacked that energy to act upon them for the moment. The vampire so simply remaining resolute in his efforts, for now, to press agianst her no further. Her words extracting no comment from him as she seemed to toy with the idea of how she might have treated him were he human. Darcy seeing little need to offer her ideas. His silence both submissive in itself and self-preserving all at once. Risque seeming to linger but a moment longer as if near disappointed he raised her no further challenge tonight. Some part within himself near amused at her own fickle nature and that ever-dangerous game they played.

Her hold upon him releases as suddenly as it had appeared. Darcy forced to grip at that railing once more to keep himself upright and yet that conversation had returned to the unfortunate Max and what remained of him. Risque loath to acknowledge that disrespect she had been show. Darcy in turn inclined to feel that touch of further aggravation at the boys words. To respect his Mistress was a veritable sin itself. It was if Max had been unable to see just who he had stood before. Darcy so eternally surprised by the numbers of others whom seemed to resent Risque's rule when he saw only femanine perfection. Power. Grace. The ability to command. The very things that made a leader worthy of following. How it baffled him, irritated him, angered him when others did not see it or so sought to point out her treatment of him, on occasion. How little they knew! How little they understood. His beloved so surely favoured im above all, didn't she? That alone the ultimate reward. Risque insisting they were due for a lesson to be taught. His own head nodded in agreement as he lent agianst that railing.

"I'll see it done."

They would surely not have to wait very long for a fool to present themselves like a lamb to the slaughter. Someone, somewhere, sure to attempt to deft that vampire Queen and so afford Darcy the chance to assist in acting out that very display of punishment that bred further fear amongst their ranks and so reminded others where they stood. How very much he liked...order. What remained of Max's gum was readily spotted then. Darcy's own mismatched gaze resting upon it, his features wrinkling in distaste at the sight. Gum...was a waste of chewing. A food without being a food. It provided nothing. Yet, that Risque had never once tried it was...curious. Still, he supposed, there was little need for her to demean herself to such mortal designs. That gum flicked into the darkness with disgust.

"Dem mortals 'ave weird 'abits."
That sudden query on his hunger so readily saw his head lift. To lie to her in that moment would have achieved nothing. His hunger as plain as those multi-hued eyes upon his face. Darcy admitting to it in the same moment. The man near ravenous. Her command to stay was met with that compliant nod once more. Darcy refusing to move so much as his foot. Risque entirely likely to notice and deny him whatever it was she intended to offer for such inability to do as asked. Darcy so having learned long ago that her commands to be absolute in every fashion. His lover returned those few moments later, that human meal within her hand, the man reeking of fear so intermingled with the scent of blood. Human by far Darcy's own most favoured meal outside that near mythical Fae blood that continued to become only more and more rare every passing decade. How she tempted him with that very morsal. His hunger clawing within his gut. Darcy forcing himself by will alone to remain where he stood as she offered that very display of his screams. The vampiric man not un-inclined to admit the fool truly did scream with an accent. His own tongue teased with the tip of one fang, that saliva filling his mouth in anticipation of a meal so brought on by that scent alone. Surely....she would not deny him this now. Perhaps this was yet a further test. Perhaps she intended to torment that very victim before him only to deny him even a taste of that blood, to force him to watch her feed instead as she had done before. That exhaustion and subsequent starvation upon him having rendered his control as fragile as glass.

That sudden request to share that very meal with her, however, was near equally as unexpected. Sharing among their kind, when it came to meals, was near unheard off. At least outside of those declared mates. Vampires, for all their obscure nature, so rarely choose mates with fickleness. Most mated pairs remaining with one another for the extent of their lives. Darcy able to count on one hand alone the vampires he had ever heard of leaving their mate for another. There species so tending to commit to that bond with far more...determination than anything else. The vast majority of the vampire community simply of the belief that Risque and himself had long since been such a pair. Darcy having....toyed with the idea more and more of late. That hunger, for now, taking over even those thoughts as he gestured for his lover to take that first bite. Those French words she offered akin to siren song before her lips parted to bite into that so far unmarked flesh on the far side of the man's neck. That display alone so sending the Southern vampires desires aflame. Hans' desperately pleas falling upon deaf ears as Risque's gaze at last met his own, that silent permission prompting the vampire to lunge forward in a terrific release of speed to seize the man's arm with immeasurable force. Darcy biting furiously into that wrist so harshly he near tore it from the bone itself in that bloodied desperation. That blood within Hans' body pulled first one way and then the next. Those vampires feeding as if near in competition with one another. Risque's position at his neck affording her that far better, swiffer blood flow. Darcy's sheer state seeing the mare tear that flesh with his own vigor to seek more and more of that blood.

Risques own venom so at last began to taint the very taste of that blood and yet in that moment Darcy hardly cared. The vampire drinking greedily still as his mistress readjusted. Darcy moving flawlessly with her to prevent his having to relinquish his prize for even a moment. Like a dog with a treasured bone. He was aware of her in those moments. Darcy hardly perturbed with her proximity to that meal as he surely would have been had it been any other. This, after all, a gift she had bestowed upon him. A treasured gift. To share that meal with her that near ultimate treat save for sharing her own bed. He was aware of that soft sigh that fell from her femanine lips as she released her hold on the man, her fill having been taken. Darcy content to continue to ravage those veins. Risque's hand so suddenly reached for him, settling upon his face. That initial touch so prompting that near instinctive growl and yet his gaze darted sideways all at once, meeting her own, some of that very....fearlness seeming to have left him in the wake of those greedy gulps. Her very presence alone prompting his figure to relax once more beneath her touch. Darcy making no effort to drive her away as he so surely would have done with any other. His food aggression so distinctly well known within that bar. Risque alone permitted that proximity and touch/ The vampire reamning unbothered by her presence wand those wholly pleasing caresses. How much he adored that touch! His fangs so at last dislodged from that mauled wrist. That unfortunate appendage appearing more akin to a gnawed piece of meat then a hand any longer. Risque's sudden invitation to 'finish him' prompting that sudden grin to the vampires bloodied lips. How very exquisite that gift, how rare that treat! How generous she was.

Darcy so hardly needed any further encouragement.That invitation to bite when and where he pleased clearly offered. Risque holding that pleading victim still for him as that faint rumble of growling delight curled within his throat. Darcy's mismatched gaze eyeing that place on the mans neck that Risque had already fed from. His movements were far slower this time, far more languid, the SOuthern vampire reaching out to near caress his lovers bite mark upon the man before leaning forward to cover it with his own far larger fangs. Darcy so rarely biting at that neck if only for the near instant death it seemed to bring about within his victims. Those sizeable fangs so often puncturing the jugular vein itself. His teeth bit firmly down, slicing through flesh and sinew into that very vein, that blood all but exploding within his mouth as the man seemed to thrash that final time within Risques grasp before that life was robbed from him entirely. Darcy left to feed unhindered once more. The vampire near gorging himself on that meal to replace every bit or energy he had lost in the pursuit of his metallic cat creation. Darcy, when he at last pulled away from that victim, so finding himself feeling considerably better in every way.

"That Darlin' was perfection."

It would, after all, hardly do not to thank her for her gift shared so generously. Risque, he was assured, hardly shared those meals with any other. That act, after all, was one for mates alone. That very idea so once more refreshed within Darcy's mind as his hand lifted to wipe that blood from his lips with a casual ease. That night had been near perfect- aside from those earlier talks of war. That wine, that cat, that meal seeming to see the return of his beloved's good mood. Darcy so momentarily considering stating that very declaration that had lingered for months upon his mind. One that never seemed to find quite the right time to present itself.

"Risque."
It was rare, in every sense, for the man to offer her name and not those usual monikers of affection. Darcy inclined to wait with patience reserved for his Mistress alone for her to finish with Hans before turning her attention upon himself as one hand lifted to run through the dark of hs hair. His free hand extended forward then with the clear desire for her to take it in her own. Darcy waiting only so long as it took her to do just that before effortlessly leading away from the mess of Hans and back toward that railing and the view of the moonlight city it displayed. Darcy uninclined to waste time with speaking of that view. Risque not a woman whom enjoyed pointless talk, chitchat or a failure to get to that point of any speech she was presented with. Darcy keen to make use of her good mood while it lasted. His hand still holding her own lightly between his fingers. His mismatched gaze meeting her own then with that very boldness he had become near infamous for when it came to his beloved.

"Dare's summthin' I wanna ask yar about. We been together a real long time now. I reckon sum-times ya still dun believe me when I tell ya I love ya. Even after all dis time. It's true dough, all dem other vamps see it, most of dem tink yar me mate. Dis ain't da fist time yar let me share your meals with ya. Our kind....we dun do that 'cept for mates."

He paused only briefly to allow her to process those very words. Darcy hardly intending to lecture his Mistress upon that nature of their own species. She understood it well enough he was sure. Though whether she was aware of those very signals she had offered him in turn or she merely acted purely on instinct he hardly knew. That southern drawl continuing then.

"I want yar ta believe me when i tell ya I love ya. I want ya to be me mate. I'm askin' yar to be me mate."

He lifted her hand then, his lips pressed smoothly to the back of it in that age-old, gentlemanly fashion. His gaze lifting to meet her own once more. The vampire nothing but serious in that declaration as he gently released her hand. Darcy choosing then to wander toward that fallen body of Hans, his own hand delving into that mans still warm chest to pluck that heart from within the cavity and step back toward Risque then. That bloodied organ held suddenly out toward her. The most accurate representation of his own he could make in that moment.

"I been tryna give yar me heart since the night I met ya, are ya finally gonna take it, Darlin?"

Flowers were that far more traditional gift where he came from and yet what use would Risque have for flowers on the rooftop of Syn? That heart a far more fitting gift he was sure. His gaze remained upon her all the same. Darcy so keenly watching each and every one of her movements as he was so very used to doing. There was, after all, every chance she might deny that offer and turn agianst him instead and yet he found himself rather...irritable at the idea she might. They already shared meals, she already permitted him in her bed, they had been at one another's side for years ad she made no effort to correct others when they called him her mate. That relationship, for vampires, a deeply significant one and one the southern vampire was wholly determined to attempt to solidify between them- if she would permit it. This, perhaps, the boldest thing he had ever asked of her....

We are rough men and used to rough ways.