How readily his gaze fixated upon that blood the moment Risque returned with it. That warm, sweet red liquid seemed to swim before his eyes within that glass as saliva rushed to bathe his teeth and tongue in anticipation of that meal. How readily he desired to snatch it from Risques hand, darcy very near forced to grip at the bed sheets to prevent himself prying that meal from her fingers. He was starving His veins felt as if they were on fire from the dryness within them. Every part of his being craved that meal. The vampiric cowboy was forced to slow himself, forced to reach gently to take that glass from his lover, force himself to put that straw between his lips- that little metal tube so designed to stop him inhaling that meager meal. The moment that blood struck his tongue, however, those vampiric instincts so readily seemed to take hold. The sound of crunching metal echoed within that room, Darcy utterly unable to prevent his jaws from biting down on what existed between them. That desire to bite after all, existed so potently within himself. Those Ravager instincts dominated every thought as he allbut inhaled that blood. Risque left with a thoroughly drained glass and an entirely mangled straw. Darcy's mismatched gaze momentarily eyed that fractured metal, the faintest hint of a frown touching his features before he uttered that apology. That blood, if nothing else, had restored some modicum of sense, of clarity, to the near hazy vampire and yet- that desire for more tugged sharply within him. He was hardly sated. Hardly full. That want to feed seemed to claw at the very inside of his skull with its persistence demands. His thoughts, in that moment, continued to focus upon that want for blood and his desire to obtain. His southern slang, as potent as ever, near coyly attempted to....persuade his lover to bring him another meal. One that went directly agianst the doctor's orders of small, frequent feeds to keep up that healing process without overwhelming it and triggering only a further release of that poison within his system.

His mismatched gaze so readily found that of his lovers then, her hypnotic blue so momentarily seemed to assess him before she...agreed. A flicker of surprise seemed to dance within Darcy's own gaze- the vampire having nearly anticipated an argument from his mate and yet how surely he should have known she was hardly done. How surely he should have anticipated her near honied words spoken in silken perfection as she insisted he could have that meal. Even if it would likely cause him pain. Even if it would undo any progress they had made and overwhelm those painkillers injected into his system to offer him even brief respite from the burn of that poison. He could have that meal, she insisted, if he truly desired it. If Ezra did not know what he was talking about after even a thousand years. It would take only a moment to send for one. A ready growl of discontent rose within the vampire's throat as his gaze narrowed near darkly upon his lover. His mind was...hazy. His thoughts seemed almost too thick to slip fluidly through his mind and yet how aware he was of her ploy all the same. Risque would not deny him that meal and yet to choose it would be to his own detriment. How readily he knew it. How certain he was her words were true and yet....that hunger seemed to gnaw unrelenting at his stomach. His mind was near fixated upon wanting to feed. His body wanted it, needed it, craved it. Surely one meal would not be so bad? Just one. A bite, a taste.....a few mouthfuls. How assuredly his very species was designed to choose blood over everything else. That horrendous,burning pain would surely return and yet it would be worth it for that blood, to fill his stomach, to feel his fangs in heated flesh. His hunger, in that moment, so surely outweighing any sense of logic. He desired that meal. He desired to drain something dry-and he would.

Risqeues lips parted once more, her lyrics near casual insisting he would have no need for her blood if that were the case. Darcy's own words seemed to hesitate. That request to bring him that meal seemed to halt upon his tongue as another low growl of irritation clawed at the back of his throat. To satisfy hunger and the expense of pain was one thing. Pain he could surely live with. Risque herself had assured he was accustomed to that. Yet to forgo her blood was another manner entirely. An offer so rarely extended and one he was loath to refuse. Thatalone,it seemed, wholly capable of penetrating that fog of desire and allowing some semblance of clarity to flicker.

"I'm really...fuckin' 'ungry."

Those words were nothing short of lathered in disdain. The vampire's irritation was so surely clear in each syllable as his fingers tightened upon that bed sheet once more. That internal struggle within himself was so surely painfully clear as his tongue brushed over his fangs. As if tasting some invisible droplets of the very liquid he craved.

"Reckon....i'd rather 'ave yar blood 'ough"

Darcy's gaze shifted to her own once more as Risque moved to seat herself with graceful ease upon the beside him. Her figure still concealed beneath that leather armor she wore- bloodstained from that long fought battle.

"Can I 'ave it now?"
How certain he was that he was pushing his luck with that very request and yet.....his body would accept nothing else. Not when his thoughts remained so fixated upon that desire to feed. The vampire was willing to risk his mate's irritation if only for a chance at the blood within her veins. It was clear, however, that Risques mood was...precarious. The she-devil, tonight, seemed near pensive. Darcy distinctly aware, even through that haze of medication that something was different. Something between that vampiric pair was so subtly shifted and yet- how very much that subtle shift implied. Darcy's own gaze became near wary, the cowboy attempting to understand his lover's mood as she questioned him- those memories of that battle seemed...distant. Darcy's gaze blinked near several times. The vampire attempted to...piece together those fragments that flickered within his mind. His memory struggled near vainly to put those snapshots into some kind of logical order of linear design. He remembered...Tetradore. A growl of irritation rose within his own throat at the very memoryof that fucking cat. His very loathing for the man had hardly lessened as he queried what had become of him. Risques insistence Tetradore had been locked away to be dealt with later prompted a soft huff of air from the vampire's nose.

"Hes a fuckin' idjit."

Those very words were little more than a hiss. Darcy's irritation seemed to rise and fall all at once as Risque asked after Cade's mate. The southern cowboys memory of that battle was, perhaps, equally disjointed. That haze of bloodlust had been pulled across his mind like a veil, the vampire aware of distinctly...little of what he had done within the confines of that battle. Yet- how certain he had been that he had not desired to kill the woman. No. He had desired to obliterate every part of her. His Ravager blood, it seemed, had taken control entirely. That very war machine he was so designed to be had seized all control in those moments. Thatrage had been...all consuming. And he had relished in it. That lack of control had brought ith it a near immense increase in his own powers- even if at the cost of sanity and self-preservation. The cowboy alive, perhaps, by pure chance. His own outrage having proven stronger, tonight then the age and experience of Cade's mate. Risque's very insistence that she thought him lost to the depths of regret so readily prompted a shake of his head as lashings of dark brunette hair fell within his gaze.

"I ain't in da business of regrettin' darlin'."

It was that very notion that he had been able to stop feeding, however, that seemed to prompt both vampires to pause. How aware Darcy was of his own....limitations. The vampiric cowboy was distinctly aware of his lack of ability to stop feeding when he had started. To even so much as yield a meal to risque had once been a veritable struggle- especially within those early years. To completely cease within the middle of a battle however was an....impossibility. Ravagers....did not stop. Not unless they were dead. Yet- how certain Darcy was that he recalled that....feeling. A need stronger than that bloodlust. Something that had overruled any and every instinct with an entirely ...irrevocable power. Risque's near softly uttered query of what he thought that feeling was seemed to prompt the return of a frown to his features as his own head tilted slightly. Naming feelings was so hardly his talent. The vampire, more often than not, struggled to identify those more complex emotions- if only because he was often loath to admit they existed. That feeling, however, had been undeniable.

"I...ain't certain."

Even if, perhaps he....suspected. His own words continued then. Darcy made an effort to finish the rest of that story. At least...as best he knew it. The vampire worked to put together those fragmented memories as his head softly shook in some effort to clear it. His hand rose to his head, his fingers brushing agianst his blood-stained hair- as if that motion might bring back those scattered memories before that very movement caused the vampire to groan. His side protested the way his arm lifted. Darcy shifted slightly once more, the vampire winching all the same as he leant forward- his lips pressing to Risques cheek in a soft touch of affection. Even despite his body's protests of that very thing. How he'd gotten to Risque's side during that battle he hardly knew, hardly remembered. Maybe it didn't even matter. His reasoning behind it remained the same. That reasoning, perhaps, decidedly simple. That, after all, was an emotion he was certain he knew. He had been in love with Risques since the day they had met. That had hardly changed. That, after all, was the reason behind near everything he did. Even if they so rarely ever spoke of those distinctly...human emotions. Even if Risque so often seemed content to reject them- much less offer those words in return. Risque's own gaze flickered open, the feline queen so momentarily seeming pensive once more before she insisted he had been....impossibly far away. That surely he should not have been able to reach her and yet she had felt that feeling too. That very one neither seemed able to identify and yet- both had felt with such striking clarity.

It was, however, his lover's insistence that he had nearly died, with each word so sharply enunciated that seemed to draw the cowboys focus once more. He had nearly died. For her. Risque's accented words were very near a whisper. As if the vampiric woman was loath to speak to them aloud before, suddenly, a fresh wave of anger seemed to find her. His Queen declared she would slay anyone who tried to lay a hand on him. The world had apparently gone mad. Darcy's mismatched gaze lingered readily upon his lover, his features, once more, frowning softly in that silence that followed. Each line of his lovers femanine figure so readily indicated her seriousness in that declaration. Her every word layered with a near bitter promise and yet....how readily his lips seemed to twitch. That twitch seemed to grow into a sudden grin, Darcy;s lips at last parting to release that utterly genuine and distinctly human...laughter. That sound was surprisingly rich- and distinctly rare in every sense. The vampire was forced to wince suddenly, cutting off that sound and yet the grin uponhis lips continued to remain. Even despite that surely baffled look upon Risques own features.

"Dun ya tink dats funny?"

Risque, he suspected, did not. The vampiric Queen still inclined stare at him as if he had gone mad entirely.
"Maybe I did nearly die for ya, darlin' but yar jus said dat ya would do da same. Maybe ya ain't say it in da same way, but I reckon sayin' dat ya would fight anyone who tried ta 'urt me is da same ting eh?"

The grin upon his features so hardly lessened, Dary's mismatched gaze held firmly agianst his lover's own with a near striking clarity.

"Ya can't tell me dat ya love me but yar can tell me dat you'd die for me? Dat's a lil bit funny."

Another wince so readily prompted the cowboy to lean back agianst that pillow once more, his gaze remaining upon his mate all the same.

"Yar dun 'ave to say nothin', darlin. I been able to read ya a real long time- an I know. I promise I ain't 'bout to go dyin'on ya. Pretty sure dats what that feelin was. Dat one we both felt? Dat was us both promisin' we ain't gonna let da other one die- no manner what."

We are rough men and used to rough ways.