What a heavily loaded question Darcy asked, did she know this particular fae? Simply put. No. She did not truly know this pitiful soul.. Yet... the mind was a strange and fickle thing. Like the way you are reminded of a certain face or a memory. She could not deny that fairy's face, especially when the dim light hit his features just so reminded her of someone buried in the rubble of her past. It was clear, those mannerisms hardly the same, or even if one were to look upon his face and compare.. It was so strikingly clear. Yet for some reason the vampire woman seemed unable to shake that way her mind clung to that very thing which only made things that much worse for the fae victim left to her mercy. Just how many times had she envisioned that death? That sweet taste of revenge upon her very tongue that had long since been denied from her. This fae was but a mere projection from her cruel mind and who was she to say no from indulging herself this little charade... to live out a fantasy she had long anticipated. Surely the actual man was long since dead and yet he was so much like a cockroach in the way that he managed to survive. How she waited far too long for that slip up.. For his morbid curiousity to rise and make that mistake to find the woman he had set down a path of annihilation. Although, Risque would hardly envision herself as such now. One day... and yet.. Today was an opportunity that she seized, clutching it within her hands. Her lover had done well indeed. Her heavy gaze rested upon Darcy's then, that striking face unreadable, not offering a single slip up. "Non." That singular word hardly duplicitous and yet there was so much more to that story painted upon the canvas of her mind. There was a hint of callousness within her words like a pin drop of unspoken fury and yet.... She was unwilling at least tonight to share that tale. Not with the sweet, tempting fae blood that possessed her name on it.. Nor those eagar plans she possessed. For a moment she is oddly transfixed by her prize... that look alone that betrayed that story she refused to tell.

How in a moment she seemed to snap out of that twisted fixation. After all, why not place those sins upon the scrumptious morsel. After all, it was rare to have her men in one room almost copacetic to her whims alone. They would aid in this fae's demise and how poetic that notion seemed to be.

The fae wriggled and struggled to no avail, her hand but a blur as it snaked out to punishingly slash at his once unblemished face. Ah, he bled well at least. Fae, fortunately, having a tendency to do that and how Risque enjoyed their desperate frailty. So much like a human and yet not. Rejected with the failure of one species and yet gifted with another. If you could call it that. They were certainly delicious. Risque could not deny that. It was almost a pity they were so rare and yet she always possessed exquisite and fine taste. Darcy certainly earned his forgiveness for tonight, not that she would inform him until later when she expressed just how much. But one must not get ahead of themselves, if he were to slip up so soon, that traction would have been for nothing.

That unique magical blood taunted her nostrils, Darcy hardly immune to luxurious scent. He could never hide his hunger from her, not even now. Tetradore however, remained entirely oblivious, not even his feline instincts to go after the weak seemed to grasp at him. It was a pity he was so aloof, perhaps she had pushed too much venom within his veins..

Risque raked her taloned fingertip into that fresh wound her vicious slap had given. Ah the fairy was far too reactive to her touches, indicating his intolerance of pain. She hadn't even tasted him yet, or truly began her assault. Darcy seemed to strain, that intoxicating blood always seemed to affect him so. How much she had fed into his violent instincts, had made him into the insatiable monster he was and yet demanding his obedience all the same. He knew those rules even without speaking them, after all, he was a quick study. It would seem his willpower would be tested tonight too.. Ah this was a veritable hellish playground filled with all her favourite toys. How that blood had only just began to flow. Now if only Tetradore could be coaxed to play. The subtle sound of teeth that ground against one another betrayed that lack of control that she was aware of and yet chose to ignore for now. There was use for those deadly fangs, but not now. Not while she acquainted herself with her new toy.

How she licked that sweet blood like a magical nectar upon her very tongue.. Yet how distracting something within the notes of that flavour. The woman seemed pensive as she begrudgingly couldn't quite place that taste. It was rare that she ate human food and yet that flavour was almost fruity. Hm. Tetradore would have been entirely useless in this regard, the man unable to speak nor did he seem to possess those tastebuds for this task at hand. Even as he mildly watched the pair of vampires with a vague wariness. She needed more than just a drop of blood to determine and yet she stole that control over her own body. Unwilling to give way to blood lust that assaulted her vampiric instincts and yet how patient she could be when she desired it.

Unceremoniously she plucked that procured, iron blade. Iron was in no short supply within her torture room that was dominated with silver. No one could blame her for not being prepared, as though part of her forever prepared for a certain fae she longed to capture. Or perhaps one would argue she was just highly prepared. How she loathed not having all those tools she needed.

Risque took that blade, wielding it with perfect ease to tear through that fabric that practically melted as that blade touched it. How much that fae seemed to quiver, the whine and plea to vacant ears. Not even his begging would spare him now, not when her mind possessed purpose. The woman allowed her icy gaze to peer over his exposed form, leaving those boxer shorts intact. The man lacked any appeal other than that very blood in his veins and his vague resemblance. It was a wonder that Darcy was able to keep in control of himself, his need to please her outweighing the bloodlust and detrimental jealousy that coursed violently through him. It was like playing with combustible materials knowing all too well that they could blow. Yet he didn't wish to disappoint her anymore than he had on her birthday of all days? Oh how she garnered such satisfaction in toying with those very emotions he harboured.

Anticipation seemed to crackle like static, an unpredictable cocktail of near palpable energy that only fueled that very moment. Oh how Risque thrived off that very energy, that fear, that desire, that anger, that jealousy... she could have sipped it like a fine wine savouring those tense notes as she swallowed it whole.

She toyed with that knife, in complete control over that blade that practically sang for the fae's blood much like Risque's own fangs. Just how far could she push that frantic heartbeat? Just how much fear could she challenge from her new playtoy? That fae was all but desperate to flee, to get away from that punishing grip and that unforgiving blade that threatened to lay claim to him.

Darcy might have been eager to chase down that fae and yet Risque had other appetites she desired to satisfy. No.. she wanted something far more prolonged and damaging. Risque abruptly plunged that blade like lightning into the Fae's shoulder, drawing more of that fragrant blood bubbling eagerly to the surface. It was like unwrapping a present. Ah, he was a gusher too. That blood eagerly pooled out of him, dripping from him as Darcy became near frantic with his own predatory need.

"Control yourself." Those icy eyes rose to her lover in clear reprimand that matched her unforgiving words, before her attention back to the blade coated in her fairy's blood. She dragged her tongue along the sharpened surface, one long fluent line from hilt to tip. That blood pooled upon her tongue as she called to it, summoned it to her.

The magic of it seemed to dance upon her tongue. But then beside that classic fae taste intermingled with the man.. There was that taste again.. An infuriating fruity note. What was it?! It seemed to distract her for a moment, overriding the fae's wretched sobs that did him no favours except coax that volatile, sadistic mistress further. The sound a pleasant backdrop she ignored as Risque all but thrust that blade forward to Darcy demanding he taste it. What was that cursed taste??? It would drive her mad if she didn't. Tetradore seemed entirely lost in his own world, his demeanor obvious in that he wished to be anywhere other than here even though his emerald eyes seemed to watch the very scene.

Darcy was quick to obey her command as always, the yearning for that blood nothing short of obvious and eager. Too eager... and yet Risque was far more determined to figure out what she was tasting. Risque's question was nothing short of demanding, her gaze almost curious and expectant. That very thing near driving her near mad.... That blasphemous aftertaste.

All of a sudden Darcy's face seemed to contort as if that blood had been tainted. His tongue flicked out as if trying to rid himself of the flavour.. How... Risque seemed unimpressed with his antics and yet his reactive squirming seemed to prompt an insistent look.. Well? Out with it. It was then that very whine escaped him.


BANANA... thats what that flavour was. How she knew her lover hated that very taste and how she had forgotten its taste almost entirely. She wrinkled her own nose. Well that was a shame.

Darcy seemed almost miserable as if he had learned that someone had pooped on his popsicle. Risque could hardly help as that amusement soon flickered within her pale blue, usually fathomless gaze. How Darcy seemed so desperate for but a taste but... now that he had... Risque could not help that subtle twitch of her lips as that fae continued to bleed out from that gaping wound while the vampires seemed in a determined and equally heated 'conversation' at what he tasted like. The banana flavoured fairy was petrified... his body trembling with the shock of it. While Tetradore looked smug as a kitten with cream, enjoying that displeasure of his vampire captors. "Ah...Banana..I knew it was a fruit.." She admitted.

"Do you hear that mon ami... your blood tastes like banana.. Did you... eat one recently?" She questioned some sick interest if it was induced or.. Natural. She would know if he lied...

"It would seem my lover doesn't like your taste... I've had better and yet... You serve to be more than just... dessert." She cooed, her other hand forcing the fae's gaze to look at her right within those hypnotic pale pools for eyes. That gaze that could practically swallow one whole.


Risque ordered both her pet and her undead cowboy to get to work and secure her new toy. She was only getting started and she had yet to try out her newest gift. It had been a long time..... Since she had seen one let alone.... Had one at her disposal to play with.

Those obedient words were pleasing to her ears, punctuated only by the fae's sobs. In a moment the fae was upon the slab, Tetradore's orders became clear to hold the squirming man in place while Darcy's diligent fingers went to work in fastening him tightly down. She released that tight strangling hold on Tetradore's leash, those silver prongs which bit into his throat sizzling faintly. Perhaps now she possessed his attention.

Tetradore's leash was finally released to allow him to perch himself upon the lithe fae, his crushing weight intended to keep the struggling man in place. His blood still sang through the air... tempting her.... And yet what a pity that would be to rush. Perhaps it was good she filled up on Alpha blood earlier. "Good." She offered, aware of the fixated way that Tetradore seemed to stare at the man he perched on, if it were a human they would have been striving for breath. But that weight at least kept the man from screaming even though his eyes did. The fairy man's arms and legs were tightly bound to force his nearly exposed body in a star-like shape.

Darcy suddenly snapped, chastising Tetradore for the way he watched that fae he perched on. Curious that fascination was, it was justifiable. "My venom still flows in his veins, who knows what he sees.... Or perhaps he finally has stopped fighting me.... and he desires this as much as you or I.... Don't you Tetradore?" She questioned near seductively, a wicked little curl of her lips flashed a singular fang much like a strip tease.

How often Tetradore seemed to lack that same desire and yet instincts of that feline were still there and this fae was very much prey. "I have yet to see how Tetradore's acid reacts to fae skin..." She mused out loud like an artist determining what colours to mix. How she knew that Darcy knew just what that saliva did, she had not forgotten that he had allowed himself to be marked by her pet. That very thought enough to make anyone squirm at the unpleasant memory. She ran her finger along that arm then, causing the trapped man to shudder.

"Darcy, how many cranks do you think until he pops I wonder?" she questioned nonchalantly, finding inspiration at that moment. That pain that peppered with fear inside of his veins would be even more exquisite. She bit her lower lip in thought. She ended up on the fairy's opposite side, peering at the wide eyed man's fearful face. How she would enjoyed days of his torment... and yet.. How distracting he was to her.. She could not be bothered with figments of the past.

"Look at me.." She hissed suddenly at the fae. She drew in a little closer. "Don't fight it.. I would start praying if I were you.."

She pressed her finger into his open wound to pull him back into him, how she hated to repeat herself. The Fairy screamed, tears blooming in the creases of his eyes as if resigning himself to his fate. So little fight... it was so very disappointing and yet she would hardly allow this night to go by unsatisfied. His reluctant gaze found her own. Simply looking at him, prompting that vague recognition seemed far too distracting. Even with the blood upon his face, it seemed to make the man look more like him. Perhaps Tetradore should start by painting his face with that acidic brew.


Risque's gaze narrowed. She wondered if she hurt him enough, made him cry out enough that Matteo himself would feel it should that treacherous man even still be alive.. How she wished that to be true. "Not even a thousand deaths will be enough for you old friend." She uttered in french and yet spite... obviously laced within them.

Oh there was something perverse in her gaze then as she watched him with a greedy anticipation.

"Darcy... begin... slowly. I want him to feel it.. Every sinew ripping, every bone popping within his skin." She snapped her finger, an idle finger dragged long the fairy's face, her fingertip tilting his hand back.

"Mon chat... I want you to take care of his face first.. Oui... then his wound.." She knew all too well he would feel that fae breaking beneath his paws... She watched like a queen observing her subjects... "Begin." She rose her hand easily, prepared to see her plans in motion as her tongue licked her lower lip in anticipation.