Her lover paid the price for that poison, throwing himself into harm's way without any regard for his own life. Selflessness was not a Ravager trait by any means and yet with her, it had always been different. Although to see it, in the throes of life and death.... How that was not something she had anticipated. How maddening it was, she had known his protective instinct ran deeper than anyone else. But not at the cost of himself. Ezra, the shaman, moved with purpose even though everything the man did was eccentric. He would have seemed to appear in his own world, executing some caution as he explained some of what he was doing. As if he sought to keep Risque's own protective instincts at bay, even he could sense her unique mood.

The pain-filled groans from Darcy periodically tore from his lips caused Risque's gaze to shoot to him every time, Such pain he must be enduring to make those noises. In the potent clutches of that incapacitating pain, he was like a lost ship with no anchor, lost to the seas of that unknown toxin that ravaged him.

The strange, small vampire fixed his gaze upon Risque, meeting her eyes in a way so few would ever dare as he explained it would take time for those toxins to properly leave his body. Avoiding further damage for at least two weeks was to be imperative for his recovery process. He had never been out of commission that long. That mention that he would make a pretty secretary accompanied by his amused laughter prompted from his own words, she was certain he would not laugh if he had to be there for it. Such a thing would likely be painful to see. In perfect timing, her lover groaned as if in protest for that very notion. He would hate every last moment of those menial duties and busy work and yet, he would need them all the same as her lover was not like nobles who enjoyed sitting upon their rounded, plump ass all day. Perhaps that was one of the many reasons why she had chosen him. He was so very different from the men she had grown to despise. Yet she could not deny how curious an image of Darcy answering those calls for her would certainly be. Such a thing would redefine his meaning of a desk job. She did not dwell on such things too long, even though she had to admit the image as her secretary still lingered in the back of her own mind. Maybe she would test it for an evening when the worst was over. A single syllable of what could only be described as disbelieved amusement left her stained lips at the thought before Ezra spoke in depth about the ravaging poison, thinking it to be warlock-made poison comprised of wolfsbane. How she hoped that being that crafted it was among the slaughtered and left in ruins to coat the asphalt of her parking lot and yet with the war's conclusion, those loose ends could be flushed out later. They had what Cade and his people no longer had. They had time.

The midnight-haired she-devil listened to Ezra prattle on his own expertise and yet she only offered half of her attention before he brought up the last restorer she had killed. A being that she could have proven useful in the here and now, she had to agree and yet how she knew that those restorers, despite their rare talent, were not be to trusted. It tugged upon a deep-rooted grudge as those pale blue eyes rose to meet those emerald eyes of the ancient vampire. The flicker of something deadly lurked within those multifaceted depths despite the teasing nature of his initial claim. "What good is useful if they do not hold a loyal bone in their body?" She admitted out loud. Restorers were useful, yes, but they were best to be dealt with like one would eradicate a weed. Unless there was a proper way to harness their powers (if only she could look beyond her own discriminations). Such conclusions were certainly not formed from a long-standing grudge, surely she would not be so petty after all this time. Yet, such topics that would only cultivate her anger were brushed to the side for now.

Darcy was going to loathe the shaman's orders of light work and not be able to properly hunt for two whole weeks. Yet anything more she might have said, or anything else she might have thought was once more brought to focus upon her wounded lover as Ezra slipped the needle into his skin. Even in that weakened state, her cowboy burst into an irritated hiss. He looked menacing and as volatile as any wildcat, more beast than man at that very moment. While she hardly seemed concerned for him lashing out at her, she knew Ezra would not be so lucky to be faced with her Ravager's fury. She would not hear the end of it if she had allowed him to bite him. Nor did she completely dislike Ezra either. After all, he was the only being she allowed near Darcy at all in her current state. Risque's hand pressed to her irate lover's shoulder, that contact causing his gaze to shift toward her which earned her an almost startled look despite how quickly he settled beneath that touch. She lingered there, partially unaware of that comforting contact before that pain relief flushed through him swiftly. Every inch of his tensed, tightly coiled muscle seemed to relax into the plush embrace of that bed, allowing that heavy head to sink into the pillow that was propped beneath it. That drug must have been strong for it to work on a vampire in his current state and was able to draw in the first true rattling breath in an attempt to speak. Yet through that sliver of clarity, despite his clear irritation toward the shaman, he focused on asking that very question if they had won. That undeniable, true smile that played almost gently upon his pale features did not match the beast that had been provoked mere moments ago. That mention that they had won seemed to satisfy the cowboy even more, so much so that it was like the shaman didn't exist.

The she-devil elaborated that there were complications, after all, he had seemed too confused with the ordeal nor seemed to remember how he obtained those injuries. Did he not remember that battle at all? What he did? A light frown pinched her features before Ezra chimed in to say that confusion was a normal but temporary side effect and that he preferred him that way. Of course, he would say that. It was like he wished to aggravate her lover on purpose. The sound of Darcy grinding his teeth had only once more echoed his displeasure only assured her that he was still very much himself at the core of it. With a simple shake of her head, she chose to ignore Ezra and his suicidal commentary as Darcy claimed that he wasn't bitten by one of those magical users. "You weren't bitten by a warlock or a witch, you have been poisoned. You were bitten by Tetradore when you decided to fight by his side." Risque confirmed. It would seem Ezra only preferred him in that state because he was able to do his poking and prodding without being savagely attacked. The other vampire hardly seemed bothered as he continued to clean out the wound and patch him up to aid in the efforts of his body's struggling sluggish healing. It hardly stopped him from flashing his fangs in warning to the other man he would have never tolerated touching him if he were strong enough. He was hardly in any condition to execute his bluff. Risque pulled her cowboy's attention back toward her with the assurance that Cade was dead. Her gaze peered down upon her lover's sickly pale face. He looked pale for vampire standards, his features sunken, accompanied by circles that darkened beneath his eyes as her mate strained in a struggle to remember. How many missing parts they both had of that night, how many gaps she wished to only hear from him.

It was at that moment that Darcy seemed to find a weakened grasp of recognition before his words trailed off as if he remembered something vital... something imperative that he had so obviously forgotten. His lips parted as if he were about to admit something almost important before the cowboy yawned so infuriatingly so. That pain relief did nothing to deter his exhaustion.

His attention lashed toward Ezra as he stabbed that needle to stitch his wound.. That growl was no longer ignored as Ezra offered those words of warning of what would happen should he be bitten! A nearly humorous scowl replaced that then, the thought of having to pay more surely deterred Darcy entirely. Risque was all but unaware of the way the tips of her fingers soothingly toyed upon Darcy's flesh as she did not move from his side as Ezra worked, answering Risque's question about if he had even been bitten. No, he claimed but he had worked on one in the past and that one had been muzzled throughout the process.. That warning was clear that he would do such a thing to her cowboy if he continued his grumbling. "Oh come now, Ezra, if he was going to bite you, he would have tried by now.. he is merely stating his displeasure as you do with all your warnings and goading. Surely you can see the difference in my mate over the other Ravager you worked on." Even as they spoke, Ezra did not finish working, slathering Darcy's wound with more of that numbing agent cream so that he could finish the job. Men. Risque thought, not for the first time that night. They needed to stop their complaining... Yet it hardly stopped Risque from commenting about Ezra's terrible bedside manner. Those stitches did not take long. How it took a while to get started but once Ezra began, he moved effectively, sticks and chanting aside. It was not without that word of warning after he collected his things. She was certain the warning was only offered because of how long they had known each other. The other man returned the blanket over his form, concealing the wound. The little ancient vampire was right. The other male vampires at Syn were near circling like sharks outside that door to find their moment to steal the dominant position by ending a man that could usually destroy them without a second thought. They were merely waiting for their moment to strike. Did they not realize such a thing was suicidal, that she would kill them herself if they so much as entered that room?

The realization that settled upon Darcy only irritated him more as Risque declared that they would need to get through her. That cold, dark intent laced within those words in a promise of what would happen should they try all but ceased any outward reaction from her lover. How she would not normally fight Darcy's battles for him and yet something possessive sunk its nails within her and refused to let go. The same sensation she had as she stood over his body on the battlefield. Not a being would come near him except for her. With those instructions of her mate's care and that veil of warning that hung around them both, he left like a mini-tempest he was. Risque waited for the locking sound of the door to echo through the room, signifying Ezra's exit. All before Darcy shifted within that bed despite the wincing pain it took him to alter positions. Her attention was upon him as she grabbed at her hand, tugging her hand to lace his fingers within his own in an all too affectionate, intimate moment, the proverbial dust from that night had finally begun to settle.

It was the first true moment alone where he was entirely lucid, at least for the moment. He claimed he had something to say. Those words were spoken with such importance, at least to her. Was it what he wanted to say before and then failed? She prompted her lover to carry on, only for him to declare his hunger. She could not hide the flicker of surprise that found her at that moment. What had she expected him to say? She nearly cursed herself and this strangely warped mood that descended upon her, one she couldn't explain for herself. It had to be the mate's bond... That was to blame. That comment that she was going to acquire food and the demand for him to not move were uttered as she retreated, putting distance between them. It had to be the lack of food on her part. She was still trapped in that battle mode as if the war was not quite over. Once she fulfilled her own needs for blood and obtained a glass for Darcy with a metal straw protruding ridiculously from the top of that glass she returned to him, but not without casting the was out despite how weakened he was from that blood loss. Such a problem was not hers to have.

She could see her bedridden cowboy all but transfixed with the warm glass within her hand, how badly he must have wanted it. His eyes desperately trailed its every move. It took everything, she was certain, for Darcy not to snatch at the cup she provided him. Her own body was warm and content with her recent meal and already rapidly healing the bruises, cuts and aches she endured. He drew the straw to his lips, attempting to not appear as eager as he was. Never before had she seen the man use a straw. The moment the blood touched his lips severed some of that control leaving behind an empty glass and an all but mangled steel straw he gnawed upon. How it wasn't enough, even she knew that.. even she could see the way his mismatched eyes seemed to plead with seeking desperation for more. A Ravager did not have small meals. They were not designed for that, not with all those fangs that designed them to take more. They were made to maim to better feed and little else. They were not designed to leave a victim left standing. Those teeth were made for war, destruction, and the greed for blood. Yet, he did not allow a single drop to fall onto the bed that had seen far worse in the wake of their passionate ways. What was a little blood now? She hardly knew and yet she attempted to prevent it all the same with that glass, to slow him down a little. He apologized as he gestured toward the straw and yet she hardly knew what for. For the straw? A straw she already disliked? "I despised those straws anyways... I do not know why someone even stocked them. I do not drink wine with straws." Risque replied even in her attempt to slow his feeding, dismissing the apology over a straw. Surely he did not think she would be mad over a straw? After everything? Yet she could tell he wanted more, his body needed it and yet the poison worked against him. The faster he healed the worse it would ravage his system. It would be a gruelling, unforgiving time. Already he responded near slyly to avoid the shaman's orders.

"You can have one. Oui." She added, her pale blue gaze landing upon him but she was far from finished speaking.

"The more you feed the faster your body will heal. It might even feel good to sink your brutal fangs into someone's throat, to simply take what you want. But it will also cause the poison to wreak more havoc. Is that what you want? To have your fill now? Just so you can be too sick to even eat because you are in so much pain that your body will shut down your will to speak, to function, to survive? You would curse the very thing you want so badly." She added, her voice smooth as velvet upon naked flesh and yet matter of fact. " Perhaps Ezra is wrong and does not know what he is talking about after a thousand years of life healing our kind.." She wove her words carefully, something for him to decide for himself.

"Is that what you wish?" She rose a dark, slender manicured brow, truly curious if his desperation for blood would outweigh the simple logic. How this would truly be one of his greatest tests of all. "It will take only a moment to send for one.." While it would likely not kill him... it might make him wish for death. How simply candid she was with him... allowing him the choice to choose which excruciating path to walk down. Both were unpleasant, but one distinctly less than the first depending on perspective. Although, she would rather not deal with Ezra the following day if he should have chosen to drain something... Perhaps this was one of the things she should have been not so lenient on and yet, how she wished to know what he would choose for himself. Logic or desire. "You would then have no need for my blood either.." She mused before she watched him intently, allowing him a chance to answer.

Risque shifted and lowered gracefully to sit upon the edge of the bed, still wearing the torn leather of the suit she war. There was no salvaging it. Shame really. She liked it. It was practical for movement in that battle and yet so very her... She ignored the sharp pain from where Cade dared to bite her, that wretched bite hardly healing as quickly as those other shallow wounds had.

Yet, the she-devil found herself in such a strange mood after that battle. After how that battle had been fought and won. It did not leave her feeling the same as she had in previous wars. No. She felt.. What did she feel? That claim that it had not been her who won that battle, was a rare admission to ever cross her lips. She could see the wariness within Darcy's eyes, that he did not recognize her behaviour, and neither did she. Did he not know what he had done? Those actions were almost heroic.... How she could not deny what she had felt in the middle of it, that odd connection she had felt between her lover and her. She had not heard of a bond forged between two mates. Was that what it was?

He claimed that it was her victory, it was her troops and her orders. "That is true to all others. Yes." Yet how she knew what happened with distinct clarity and yet she did not press further on the topic. Her gaze steeled and yet this was hardly a topic of self-doubt. Darcy's tongue brushed his lower lip, distracted by the blood from his drink, likely searching for more as he eyed the empty glass with the mangled metal straw that sat beside her cowboy on the bedstand. He seemed almost oblivious to it all. That question on what he remembered, broke the silence and forged a deep frown upon his brow.

She was in that shielded prison and then Tetradore attacked him. Darcy gave her pet the chance to strike him when he thought them to be comrades in that war. After all, it was not her order to fight at her pet's side. Darcy chose that on his own accord. Yet she could not understand why. Her eyes narrowed, and irritation lashed within her even though she did not act upon it. She heard his frustrated growl as he searched for those elusive memories. That question of what happened to Tetradore caused the first signs of that irritation to appear upon her face and yet she did not leave that spot on the bed.

"After the battle was over, I had Ruben lock him away under watch. I have yet to decide what I wish to do with him." They had defeated Cade's mate, at the very least even if she had no idea how. It was strange how Cade did not react to it. Did he not feel the mate's bond? Yet she refrained from asking her own questions.. refrained from asking why he abandoned his post to join Tetradore of all beings when she had wanted her pet to prove himself in this battle. Their amicability, if one could call it that.. made no sense to her.

Yet Darcy seemed to be caught on what had happened with Cade's mate and that he had not meant to kill her. Risque was struck with her own confusion. That did not sound like her cowboy at all. He didn't mean to kill her? He was too busy searching at his hands like a man filled with remorse of his actions. Of all the beings he killed of either gender and he was worried about their enemy? Yet just as he appeared one way, it was replaced by a wicked smile that showed all of his menacing teeth as he rose his mismatched gaze to meet her own. Those far for familiar words of his legendary savagery returned. What a strange duality that also made no sense. How she did not like when things made no sense.

"Ah, there you are. I thought you might have suffered a damaging blow to your head or some strange side effect from Ezra's potions.. You almost looked like you possessed regret for your actions..." and yet he seemed himself, recognizing that look in his eye as he recalled his gruesome desires. He shook his head as if waving away the thoughts that continued to dance within his mind before he continued his explanation. He claimed he was lost in a haze, lost to the bloodlust as he fed from one of his victims. A bloodlust that could usually never be broken until a Ravager had his fill... and yet Darcy claimed that he felt something. Was that what that peculiar sensation was on the battlefield? Was it? That mention that it was enough to stop him from feeding. Nothing should have been able to pull him out of a Ravager's frenzy. Not a true one. For him to stop feeding seemed to surprise even her, her baffled look matched his own. That should not have been possible. "That feeling.... What do you think it was?" She questioned almost softly despite how many things lashed within her, omitting the very fact that she had felt something too. Yet she was wholly curious what he thought it was, without her saying a thing. She wanted to study his words, almost concerned that they had matched her own thoughts.

He didn't wait long before admitting he tried to get to her. That he intentionally got in the way of her battle with Cade. He remembered. She was oddly quiet; her face has lost that serene impassiveness. He claimed it was him who attacked the warlocks, which was what she suspected. That he was the one to cross that impossible distance to send her to the ground to take the brunt of those stakes. It was a blur to her too and yet she had witnessed enough, knew that Cade had died by his own stake. That Darcy nearly died too. Nearly died to save her. The movement caught her eye of Darcy's hand that rose to press into his head as if he could bring it all back, his blood-soaked hair falling into his eyes, the movement of that arm stretched the skin at his side caused him to wince and groan.

That pain relief would not last long. This would be a long road to recovery. Risque frowned, recalling her thoughts of how he got there so quickly. What was that feeling she had clearly felt too? How without hesitation he was willing to sacrifice himself for her.

Even despite the raging pain he felt, he still lent forward to press a single kiss to the cheek of his frozen-in-place mate. She closed her eyes as she heard the whisper of his accented voice to block out the clamour of confusion that riddled her mind.

He didn't even know what could have happened if she had died and he still saved her. Her gaze opened, her pale eyes tried for impassiveness and failed. He claimed his love for her and it was this time she didn't flinch at those words.

"You were impossibly far away. I heard you call out and it was not nearly close enough. It was like you teleported. But it's the feeling you said you had, the one that ceased you from feeding." She paused for a moment before she continued on. "I felt it too. I don't know where it came from.." She rose her hand to trace where she had felt it, her palm and fingers pressed against her chest as if remembering it near perfectly before she frowned again a thought rose to the surface of her mind.

"You. Nearly. Died." She enunciated every word, terse with anger as she leaned forward to all but show a glimpse of her discontent.
"For me.." Those lightly accented words softened slightly. She studied his masculine chiselled face so familiar to her even sickly as he was now.

Her fingers from her right hand curled like claws into the bedsheets.

Anger continued to lick within her like tendrils of fire as if unsure what she would even say next.

"I want to make it known that if anyone tries to come near you. I will slaughter them brutally, so much so that there will be legends written in its memory." That declaration was spoken like a very vow. "It is like the whole world has gone mad tonight." Herself included.