I am what she made me
her words are spiderwebs inside my head

Darcy's relationship with Tetradore had always been tenuous at best. The WerePanther, in his younger years, had almost been...tolerable. Perhaps, once, there had existed some hope for the pair to form even the most basal of understandings and yet, as Tetradore had grown older, Darcy's patience had grown thinner. The once quiet child had grown into an obnoxious wretch of a teenager. Surly, mouthy, argumentative and a damn right pain in the ass. Where Tetradore had once been almost biddable as a boy he had become a fucking nightmare to handle as he grew. Risque alone was capable of exacting any true control over him and only because he was incapable of refusing her orders. Tetradore was the single and only point of...contention that truly existed between that vampiric pair. Her fucking obsession with her pet was more then Darcy was willing to tolerate and yet- he feared her wrath far to much in turn to truly dispose of Tetradore as he had all others before him. Punishing the bastard of a man achieved little- even if Darcy was willing to admit he enjoyed forcing Tetradore to be an outlet for his irritation. Risque's protection over her little pet limited just what Darcy could do by way of...revenge. Oh and how Tetradore knew it. No other being within Syn's walls would dare answer back. Not to Darcy. The Southern vampire beneath only Risque herself on that hierarchy and yet Tetradore's words were far more than merely sass. The Panther so daring to imitate his Southern drawl. Darcy, no matter how hard he tried, was incapable of removing that twang from his words. Those imitations of the way he talked were a distinct...sore point for the vampire and yet Tetradore knew he could only go so far by way of punishment. Oh, how he dreamed of the day Risque removed her protection from him and her claim upon him. He would rip that insufferable boy apart piece by piece.

Darcy's jaw set near firmly in response to those words. His fangs grated over one another, the sound echoing within that quiet space and yet, for now, he offered no reply beyond that darkened glare. Risque, he knew, could force her precious panther to pay him and yet how Darcy was loath to be forced to ask his mate to punish the Alpha on his behalf. There was something...unsatisfying in having another take care of his business. Even if Darcy so hardly ever allowed such considerations to pass his lips. Tetradore would pay for that Fae he had killed- one way or another. Along with his sad little imitation. The pair, for a few moments at least, were returned to silence. Darcy's own thoughts continued to turn within the depths of his mind. That jealousy had a way of clouding his thoughts, of fixating them in a way he knew was a hindrance and yet he was near powerless to stop them. That possessiveness, that territorialism was...ingrained within him. Risque was his and his alone. She had taken him for her mate- surely she was seeing no others, was she? Surely he would smell them upon her if she was. Yet the scent of Tetradore lingered near....permanently within that club. There had been a time, once, when Risque had taken the panther to her bed night after night. That singular act alone having decimated but any sense of....mercy he might once have been willing to show the feline. Whether or not Tetradore enjoyed those nights hardly mattered. Whether or not the other man desired them, initiated them or took even an ounce of pleasure from them Darcy hardly cared. The twisted confines of his thoughts saw only that singular and potent truth. Tetradore had touched what was his. How even the thought of those nights prompted a territorial aggression that burned like fire within the vampires veins. It had been....a long time since Risque had enjoyed her pet in quite that fashion. Had she been doing so again?

That singular, potent question seemed to prompt a near biting response from the other man. That curt 'no' held far more attitude then Darcy was so often willing to tolerate from the kitty-pet and yet, that answer satisfied him. Enough to see him forgive Tetradore's transgression for now. The cowboy instead content to focus on the pleasing notion his lover had not returned to enjoying her slave. After all, Risque knew how that single act, above all, so...enraged him. She would not torment him like that, would she? How inclined Darcy was to leave that line of questioning. The vampire content to move beyond it and yet, it seemed, he had trodden upon a nerve. One that so apparently prompted Tetradore to lose his goddamn mind entirely as the Panther offered those entirely....dangerous words in response. Each syllable akin to salt upon an open wound. Tetradore's words throwing fuel onto a fire. One that roared near instantaneously. Oh how terribly far over that line Tetradore had stepped tonight. How that little shit would pay.

Darcy moved with near lightning speed. Those vampiric reflexes far superior to anything Tetradore could ever hope to maintain. The words upon Darcy's own lips were near spat with outrage as his hand seized Tetradore by the very throat. The panther was slammed into the nearest wall with enough force to crack that plaster behind. He could feel Tetradore's trachea beneath his fingers. As fragile and breakable as the man himself. Darcy's hand near shook with the effort of holding back his own strength. He could smell Tetradore's blood, each frantic pump of his heart. He smelled like...prey. That hunger and anger seemed to go hand in hand. It would be so easy to crush the Panther's windpipe. To watch him gasp and choke and bleed like he deserved. Darcy's teeth pulled back from his fangs. His icy cold breath near daring the other man to say those words again when the sheer force of his grip already saw Tetradore's feet lift from the ground below. Darcy's own hand tightened, his fingers biting further into the flesh of Tetradore's throat until the other man was forced to gasp in any effort to speak. Those words were barely more than a wheeze when theycame. Fucking bastard. Another growl clawed its way free from the Southerners throat.

"Maybe I can't fuckin' kill ya, but dat dun mean I can't...re-arrange ya a lil bit."

Darcy's lips fell back over his fangs just enough to allow the barest hint of a simper to tug at the corners. That 'smile' so hardly pleasant in any sense as Darcy's gaze so distinctly travelled away from Tetradore's own and down the length of the other mans figure, as of trying to decide which body part might be the most fun to remove.

"Maybe I'll break yar leg, or an arm, or maybe dem ribs o'yars again. Maybe I'll snap ya ankles and watch ya crawl around on yar knees where ya damn well belong."

As if Tetradore would have any fucking clue how to satisfy a woman when all that little wretch had ever done was lay there any way! Darcy was content to offer the Panther those very words as Tetradore did little more than hiss- the other man clawed frantically at Darcy's wrist as if his sad little efforts might truly be able to pry the vampire off. That anger, however, had far from simmered within the vampires veins. Maybe he could...mutilate Tetradore a little bit. As long as he didnt kill him, Risque would surely forgive him. What he wouldn't give to hear Tetradore beg. Darcy's lips parted once more, those southern lyrics offering that final insult of sorts. One the vampire knew would sting. After all, Tetradore knew just how best to aggravate the vampiric cowboy and yet- Darcy knew in turn just how best to make Tetradore bite. That manetion of the other man's mother seemed to have that desired effect.

"I''l talk 'bout whoever da fuck I want."

Darcy's mismatched gaze cut sideways at the sudden rise of those shadows, the vampire so barely having time to react before his entire body seemed to lurch into....nothingness. Both Vampire and Were suddenly left falling. Darcy's grip upon Tetradore's throat released near instantly, the pair sent tumbling downward as gravity firmly gripped them. What in the fuck was this!? A hiss of both surprise and outrage managed to work its way free from the vampires throat. No amount of vampiric speed nor any of his other affinities were capable of slowing down that fall. Darcy was capable of doing little more than attempting to right himself midair- that act near akin to a cat- the vampire attempting to land on his feet.....

Fucking gravity. This was going to hurt.

Darcy

i'm in love with the madness