A wager she had proposed. It would seem that would not entirely ever come to be. How she might have revelled in dangling something he had wanted right before his nose, having him so water at the very prospect. Perhaps a bite of that fairy when she was finished with him? If he was alive enough to do so. But it was nothing short of null and void as the sickening song of a skull crunching filled the air. All of those plans all came to a resounding, crunching halt.

How she envisioned it perfectly, with such clarity. The three of them working as one unit in the destruction of her enemies. Even though that fae had only ever been guilty of looking vaguely like someone long since presumed dead. Still, the hellish she-devil would have found it almost poetic, a memory she would have looked back on fondly. In her vision she did not have Tetradore acting out of turn, causing his premature death. How irksome that was.

Tetradore had a death wish. Clearly that was the only thing to provoke such blatant stupidity when she had allowed him a chance to redeem himself of his poor behaviour. Time and time again he failed her. But in this.... This had truly sparked her ire. It bloomed like a nuclear mushroom cloud within her in that abrupt moment she could have murdered him. That was her fae he had robbed her of. That fantasy all but burst like a raincloud on a perfect day. That traitorous bastard, both the fairy and Tetradore. She had so very much in store for that fae. How many scenarios she had all but fantasize about. One in which she had planned tonight when her hypnotic gaze rested upon the fae, an unintentional... and yet inspirational mishap but.. How Darcy hadn't the faintest idea of the gift he procured her.... And then Tetradore, her insolent pet had all but obliterated it. Oh he would pay. The only semblance of reprieve she had was the promise of his torment.. And the promise of the fae blood that at least had not been wasted. Risque hardly possessed the same aversion to the flavour of banana as Darcy had, even though there were copious other fruits that were far superior. Not that she craved much more than the occasional french cuisine from time to time.

Ah Tetradore. All he had to do was play his part and he could have had a somewhat decent night... as if that were ever truly possible. Hadn't the hallucinations done enough? Ah perhaps he had more blood to spill, enough time has passed... and with her victim in the room gone... Tetradore made the perfect candidate. How eager the vampire queen was to spring to violence, to place her pet at her feet, where he belonged.

Tetradore was helpless against her unpleasant strike that found its mark before he had even a chance to retaliate, each one held that supreme strength of not only her vampire attributes but her powers. It was overwhelming. Perhaps even suffocating. How it weighed upon him like a thousand men! It was a wonder that he didn't burst at the seams in a way that was nothing short of explosive, like her temper in its current state. But at least now... she had a victim that would not break so easily. He could do little but take it. Every abuse she desired to unleash upon him... oh but if he thought this was bad.. He had another thing coming.

The thoughts of retribution were the only sweetness to satisfy a bitter aftertaste. She dug in her pointed heel further into his malleable flesh... as if she wished to slip her foot inside of him to create him even more immeasurable pain and deserved suffering. Oh the damage she could have done. What a mess it would have been. There was a reason why she didn't carpet this room. Carpet in a dungeon... the thought seemed to amuse her and only her as that wicked one-sided curl of her lush lips at the mere gruesome thought of it.

She hardly gave Tetradore any reprieve.. Not even a breath to fill his lungs could be taken without her suffocating presence invading him. She was everywhere to him, reigning supreme of the dominion of all he was. She was his entire world in those precarious moments. How she could have choked the life of him with it. How she felt the sudden compulsion to do just that. The sweet sounds of Tetradore's pain and anguish were not enough to sate her. Her ideas stitched together something far more concrete.

Then there was still the matter of Darcy. Oh he had tried so valiantly to please her even though his own resolve seemed to threaten him. Ah but a man was as only as strong as his weakness. She had put him to the test. She knew exactly the extreme duress he was under beneath the weight of her command he had to obey. That very act would determine his very fate, how it swayed as a pendulum. Back and forth. Those odds certainly wavered against him, she knew it was cruel to taunt and test him as she did. Yet it was no less entertaining. Yet, he had been finding such a way to surprise her. A tendency that she took notice of too keenly. It was easy to poke and prod at it in endless amusement. The diamond encrusted bracelet that still adorned her wrist glinted as a testament to it. It caught her attention many a moment, it was a piece designed to be admired.. And even more so... admired upon her. Her pale gaze drew upward to rest upon Darcy alone, as if she could see right through him. Those very seconds defined life itself as he complied and went to do his monumental task.

Perhaps she could salvage this night after all.

If only Tetradore could speak. She wondered what that pained sound that escaped him would have translated to. It drew her attention back to the sleek black panther. Poisonous promises danced about the air, her words velvet needles piercing his mind. Something for him to look forward to. Something to fill him with despair. It was a pity the fire and reliving his parents demise was not enough to crush him.

Darcy moved like a ghost. Quiet and with purpose. The corpse of the fae was removed at once with barely an utterance of sound at all. How unaware of the struggle he endured even now... unaware of the way he almost salvatated all over her fairy, like a dog over a prime rib. Yet, he somehow managed to complete his mammoth task, before seeing to the draining of that blood. The only question remained was whether he could complete the rest or not. Oh he struggled as she knew he would. He fled across the room to put distance between himself and the tantalizing substance. If nothing more she could not fault him in his determination and yet the feline queen always maintained a vigilant awareness of him all the same. While she dealt with the man at her feet.

Tetradore had returned back to his human form as commanded much to Darcy's disdain, his body left bare to her upon his hands and knees. His eyes remained downcast as they should be. He didn't even utter a word, the only sound she could hear was his heartbeat thudding within him and his panting breath. How his corded muscles bulged appealingly beneath the sleek silken caramel flesh, fit from head to toe. He was a remarkable specimen in either form. She could hear Darcy's territorial growl having torn from him all the same. How she knew he hated him. It was a pity he would sooner wish to kill him, his hatred intensified only with a nude Tetradore in the room. The thought of having them both, certainly crossed her mind. How that masculine energy seemed to shift in that room. Oh so toxic and yet how she enjoyed sipping it like wine all the same. "Cat got your tongue?" She purred sinfully toward Tetradore as she released her hold just enough to allow him to stand. Where was his fight now? Ah but he was still nothing more than a marionette and she was it's skilled master.

Darcy was soon tasked to retrieve her silver and that glass.... The man's struggle was not at all unnoticed, in fact she enjoyed toying with just that. How she relished in that struggle, enjoyed his baser desires and reaction.... Such a thing could not lie. Such emotions were far more honest than anything else. Pain.. Pleasure. True undiluted animalistic rage. And that growl of frustration that was all but barked... It struck a sinful chord of delight within her. She could almost forget how utterly enraged she was earlier. Almost.

Risque allowed her gaze to examine him, his body on clear display for her own perusal with his collar and lead still adorning him all the same. His instructions were clear. The all but defeated man made his way toward the rack in which she deftly fastened those bindings, the wrists first and then his ankles, he was all but splayed out before her. Oh she had not noticed the silver nailheads that embellished durable cuffs that undoubtedly now burned his skin. "What a remarkable machine... Don't you think Tetradore? To think, you could have avoided this." She mused out loud appreciatively, a sadistic little son... as she hands all but caressed the exposed skin as she encircled him, her slender, feminine trailed with ease from flesh to that machine, her words along with her fingers meant to taunt him. How helpless he was, forced into submission upon his back, exposing his tender underbelly to both vampires. She was almost far too mesmerized by the very appealing sight before the additional scent of blood permeated the air. Risque's gaze elevated from her newfound prize to find Darcy with his arm mangled from his own fangs. Her undead cowboy had met his limit it would seem.

What a surprising turn.

Darcy returned to her in a way she almost considered humbled with all she had asked for and more it would seem. How her gaze seemed all but fixated upon that mangled arm. It only attested to his loyalty and his own tormented resolve that had always been his very weakness. Yet... her displeasure was far stronger than even that very blood. It seemed to please her. That she defeated all instinct within this man. She placed that box filled with its implements by a nearby surface, a convenient padded table that had all sorts of uses. Her fingers wrapped around that very glass of still freshly procured fae blood. It was still warm and no less appetizing.

"Bien.." She cooed in french as she moved toward him, as she peered over the rim of her wine glass she so sipped. She encircled him like she had not quite noticed him before as she somehow decided something within that fickle mind of hers. He was ready. If anything that mangled puncture mark on his arm had shown her. She reached out her free hand to examine the fresh wound that was still slick with dripping blood. It would heal all too soon. That predatory instinct all too aware of that liquid even if that blood was his own. His own lips were even painted with it. She drew in close as if to scent that fae blood...from his bloodied mouth but she already knew he had succeeded. She brushed against him with nothing more than a smirk upon her lips not alluding to the wicked plan that had had all but consumed her thoughts as she placed the glass where her silver tools were. The midnight haired devil swept toward the gears before she unceremoniously without warning cranked those chains that bound Tetradore's arms and wrists taut. How easy it was, one crank.. Two... three...was it four? She hardly knew. How she waited for those sounds to fill the air with Tetradore's beautiful cries before she stopped. How disappointing it would be... to not at least obtain that. At least one of his arms had to be dislocated by now. One arm looked a little off to her, as she observed it with sadistic satisfaction. A thick chuckle, languid as honey crept from her parted lips. How painfully taut he was then....

She then reached to grab her fae blood, to allow more of that precious liquid to slide down her throat before placing it back down again... moving toward her case of silver. That velvet lined case had a wide array of choices... most noticeably containing her silver whip. All she had to do was make her choice.

She slipped on a pair of skin tight velvet lined, thin gloves to avoid getting burned, her back to her waiting men undoubtedly with baited breath.

"You've done surprisingly well." her melodious voice sang and that limp whip dangled within her gloved fingers as if testing the balance of it gently. Almost as if she held something precious. She seemed to feel the weight within her hand, tested it. That chain was so very dainty, all things considered, that sharped point at the tip designed to bite into flesh as well as burn both were and vampire alike. She pivoted lightly upon her feet, before prowling that room, revelling the sight. "How many lashes do you think my insolent little pet should get?" One for every protruding ab muscle? This one certainly amused her. One for every transgression from that night? She allowed that whip to dangle upon Tetradore's stomach, deceptively harmless and yet that silver that caressed his caramel flesh began to burn into his skin. The scent of burning flesh tickled her nose as she pulled it along to form lines like she were drawing something... most notably an 'R' that curled far more than it had to at the end.. His skin left angry, torn and raw.

Ah, he was a pristine canvas she intended to ruin.

Her gaze shifted expectantly from Tetradore to Darcy then.

When she was finished, lashes and doodles alike, she revelled in the angry bleeding, burning marks upon Tetradore's flesh. "Oh you bleed well mon chat." she added dreamily.

"Hmm.." She mused as if entirely unaware of the way that the now resting whip seemed to singe its way into his flesh as if it seeked to imbed itself within him. She pulled it away before moving toward Darcy then every salacious move intentional as it was sinuous. She was unpredictable in all her glory.... like a vengeful goddess sent to offer her loyal follower, her lover, a boon. "I will never forget... the damage Tetradore did to your neck. I still see it even though your flesh has healed." She reached out toward exactly where that ruin once was on the pristine slope of the side of his neck. The acid that had almost decapitated him held no reminder except for the memory of it. How she had marked him in that very spot time and time again. It was an injustice. One that perhaps he earned to remedy this night the moment he chose her above all instinct.

"I think it's time.." She added cryptically.. "That you return the favour. A bite... for a bite. Don't you agree, mon saccharine?" How those silken words were spoken so deceptively sweet... How she knew that bite would only further maim her feline... and to share that blood within his veins showed just how much Tetradore displeased her enough to share him now. How much Tetradore had failed and Darcy had risen. How aware of the brutality of those teeth and the hatred in his body for that man who remained utterly helpless as a trapped, nailed down butterfly to the wall. "Still speechless, mon chat?"