Darcy was an exception to the rule. That much could be seen from the way he held a perfect semblance of control, even now. If not, the glass within his hand would have been easily shattered to dust within the force of his grip, the only casualty was that ridiculous metal straw that was mangled by the set of his wicked teeth. It was so painfully obvious how he wished it was a plump blood-filled body instead. It should have been impossible for a Ravager to overcome that bloodlust which was so often all-consuming. How certain she had been that her task was to keep the man restrained for what felt like endless nights to come. Yet, there he was... drinking from a glass and straw in bed like it were a glass of evening milk before a restorative sleep. It was not the only thing he had defied that night either. The she-devil observed him, astute, cutting eyes trained with their scalpel-like precision with the knowledge that a single glass would hardly be enough. Blood, the very thing he craved had become the double-edged sword at his throat. It was unsurprising to find that hazy darkness that danced wickedly within her lover's mismatched stare as he fought with the mere threads of his own control. A war waged between instinct and reason.

A growl rumbled free as he weighed out those options with an unclear mind that sought to take him hostage. The intensity of his gaze narrowed upon her. Ah, perhaps there were still limits. "Do not look at me like that. It is your own choice. I did not put that poison so close to your heart.." She uttered smoothly, even though she was the reason for it. "Unless you would prefer it to be my decision." Either way there were consequences. Either way, it would be a different version of hell to endure. Only one had lucid moments and the other... well.. one could only guess. It was a ravager's curse to be denied what his body so desperately demanded.

How he struggled, teetered on his own ledge. She could see it roaring within his mind that she questioned if he had even heard her. Those moments ticked by so sluggishly that she thought he might have lost the moment that second menacing growl ripped free. But that did not mean she did not offer a final caveat of her blood to rouse him from his battle. Further disdain dripped from his every word. He was fuckin hungry. How she could see the blatant frustration as his own fingers dug and fisted into the bedsheets. Yet something seemed to win out in that internal struggle. She was unsure what had finally done it. Her cowboy's mismatched gaze found her own even though she only moved closer to the vampire that would have lashed out at anyone else. Without any reservations, she sat upon the edge of the bed beside him with graceful ease, the plush mattress dipping slightly with her weight even as her own body still healed away those dull aches and pains from battle. That one wound still stung, the final parting gift from Cade. How she wished her suffered more.

Darcy's familiar southern drawl reached her once more, still not quite his usual smoothness but rasped with parched thirst and strain, his decision final. He would rather have her blood. How she could not ignore the eagerness in which he said it that he could barely contain the following question. Could he have it now? She was well prepared to give him her blood and yet he needed to wait. That blood was to be designed to go with the sedative and she selfishly wanted him awake now. She did not need him sleeping peacefully as she watched over his prone form. Not yet.

"Soon." She uttered with smooth assurance. A few days of limited blood for a Ravager could feel like a lifetime. Yet there were things she needed to know. Ones that she could hardly prevent the continued resurgence of, thoughts of that battle that darkened the depths of her own complex mind.

That question of what he remembered from that battle was soon met with an obvious clashing strain to remember. Darcy attempted to piece it all together all the same, broken piece by broken piece. It tore another growl from his lips, one that had nothing to do with bloodlust. The inquiry of what had happened to Tetra had drawn out his clear temper that even the drugs could not dull. Even still, his thoughts clung to the other man.

Tetradore's an idiot. Darcy claimed forcefully for not the first time within a few short moments. Irritation so potent was clear within his freshly spat words like it was a bitter taste within his mouth. Yet she still could not understand her own mate's choices. Such a heated hatred existed between the two and yet he had offered his back to her cat, defied her very orders to run to the feline's aid. It made no sense to the feline queen. But it would appear words were just that. Words. It was an action that spoke far more and his action muddled the very waters.

That mention of Cade's mate seemed to cause a shift within Darcy once more. He claimed he had not desired to kill her, and uttered a sudden shift of surprise within the vampire queen. She was an enemy and enemies had only one purpose. To die, pitilessly. For a moment, she believed that her lover's mind might be scrambled, that suddenly, morality began to alter his very being. Was this the cost of his control? Betrayal? The remorse he appeared to have was abruptly eradicated, there one moment and gone the next. His intention was to obliterate every part of her, not just kill her. As if mere death was not enough to satisfy him. Ever the overachiever. Now that was the man she knew. Either way, she had ended up dead. He so easily declared that he wasn't in the business of regretting. What did Tetradore do throughout the battle with Cade's mate? Had he truly done nothing beyond turn on one of their own during a battle?? Where was even Harley throughout that ordeal? Useless felines deserved death for their traitorous crimes. But that would be too easy. Darcy's words at least seemed to put a balm to her concern enough to allow silence to descend lightly upon the pair. At least before the mention that he had stopped feeding entirely in the midst of that Ravager's trance of bloodlust and brutality. It should have been impossible to break free from. Yet he seemed just as unsure of why as she was.

Annoyance began to gnaw away within her, loathing the very fact of not knowing what clearly had overcome them both. Darcy surged on, the cowboy continued in his determination to piece together his version of that story with a great deal of effort, even despite the haze of the drugs and whatever else that ravaged the ravager. The way that battle had been fought, the way it had ended... and everything in between still refused to settle within her, tenacious as it was. Feasibly, that pull between them could be dismissed as an after-effect of the mate bond. Perhaps, what had happened hardly mattered, only that they had won. Yet another victory if one were to look at it as black and white. The she-devil looked turned away from him. Truly unseeing in the wake of all that assaulted her like annoying buzzing stinging insects she could not decimate. Her body was riddled with extreme tension before Darcy reached for her. No one would have sought to seek her like that. No one but her own mate would be so daring. It was enough to fracture the seething malevolence that sought to take root. The battle was over and how she was certain she was still somehow fighting. Its end had been so abrupt and not without cost.

With a suddenness, Darcy leaned in, their hands entwined despite the pain the movement caused himself, his lips pressed to her cheek in a soft affection that did not match how the blood-soaked and battle-worn pair looked. The moment was entirely tender for two monsters that would destroy anyone and anything that came in their way. Yet she didn't pull away, which was perhaps telling in itself, her piercing pale blue eyes that had closed flickered open, a rare pensive darkness clouding their depths, eyeing the way his much larger hand enveloped her own before they met his waiting eyes. It was like a puzzle for her too. Those missing pieces were driving her mad. From how quickly he had moved to cross the battlefield should have been impossible, even with vampiric speed, perhaps. The fact he had stopped feeding, was another. The odd interaction between her mate and her pet with no trace of his own. The strange nameless tug she had felt.. the way he had nearly sacrificed himself for her. The final part unnerved the feline queen most of all. Self-preservation she understood as much as she did not respect it. The she-devil's free hand reached to trace her fingers upon the spot upon her chest where she had felt it beneath her skin, she could recall it with far more clarity than he. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. A resolve sunk its teeth within her and refused to yield even in the disorder of a mess she waded within even as she was ever aware of the persistent threats that still existed for her mate beyond that door. She could sense them. The male vampires of Syn circled like vultures to find their opportune moment to strike at the wounded vampire and take Darcy's position as if they ever could. As if she would allow it. That feeling that persisted after Cade's demise did not lessen.

How she would quite rather deal with those that sought to find weakness now, to give an outlet to her own surmounting agitation. That and to make it clear no one was to touch what was hers. Yet surely none would be so suicidal as to enter that room. Yet that mate bond clearly sunk in deeper than it ever had before. A true mate did not care for the rules of their kind, no, it defied them all, to protect what was theirs. Darcy had proven it too. That declaration was spoken truthfully before admitting the world had gone mad. Those unvoiced thoughts were far louder than anything else she could have said. She was quite certain that she was mad along with it. Anger rose its icy hot tendrils, trailing up her spine like the touch of a skilled lover. It was abruptly snapped in two by a strange sound.

The strange sound was her mate's sudden laughter that filled the entire room. It was so sudden, so loud that it caught her off guard. So much so that the sound had actually startled her. An honest, belly laugh. Didn't she think it's funny? He questioned her with humour and yet all the confusion did was pave the way for exasperation.

"What? I fail to find what you consider is so funny." Yes, it had to be the drugs that had made her lover like this. Not at all her contradicting actions. That was the only way to explain this. His stupid grin still plastered on his face exposing his sharpened teeth, the expression matched his mismatched gaze to make matters worse. He continued on brazenly and Risque all but stare like he was a madman. She did not know what to make of him.

A frown replaced the confusion upon her once perfectly smooth porcelain features. He was going to give her a headache. She chose to ignore the fact that from his eyes there was a clarity that was not there before even as mirth equally danced within their depths. He fell back into the pillows that welcomed him, that almost smug grin still plastered to his lips, their hands untwined. That he might have nearly died for her but she just admitted the same. That she would die for him. How did he get that? Most of all, she failed to find the humour in it.

"How is that the same thing? You are mine, there isn't anyone allowed to kill you except for me." How those words almost sounded sweet yet terrifying..... and entirely possessive. Yet for a creature like her, to so outwardly claim him as hers meant something. She was glad to see him wince as he shifted slightly, as petty as it was considering all that he accused her of. While she would destroy anyone that came to attack him here and now... that would not stop her from then smacking him with the body part she had ripped off of whoever trespassed if he continued logic like this. Such topics she was not prepared to face. Why did it set her icy blood to boil? Yet Darcy refused to let up. He pushed again. Harder this time.

There it was. This argument again. Every time she thought they had an understanding, it continued to resurface like a wound that refused to heal. He persisted as he claimed that she would die for him but not admit her love for him and he found that funny.

"You think that I would come close to death? That anyone could stand even a fraction of a chance up against me?" She had so quickly forgotten the blunder with Cade. She released a frustrated sound from her lips that parted, drawing to her feet abruptly as he peered up at her with that annoyingly lucid face. He hardly stopped there. He claimed that she didn't need to say anything, that he had known... his words carried on and she could do nothing but stare at her lover. Those words he had spoken before and yet they struck the same. Only this time she abruptly moved forward, alright she had heard enough... but was he wrong? She hardly cared. She looked him dead in the eye, denial and some other unnamed emotion surging through her. "So what if I do Dar? Hm?? You are high." Her voice pitched slightly. That was the explanation for all of this. He was high. Yet she seemed unaware of her own mistake.

She moved back and in that same movement took the edge of the covers that had fallen from his bare body and pulled them up and over his head. Petty. Yes. But at least she didn't have to look at him. Even though she was certain she could still hear if he decided to speak..

Abruptly, she pivoted on the balls of her feet and stormed off, not too far off as her fingers tore at the clothes from her figure, those cursed zippers would not obey her either. There wasn't any sense in what he said. There wasn't. This was simply the mate bond doing clearly strange things to impair her judgement.

Risque unzipped and kicked off her boots, uncaring that they were being strewn across the room in disarray. She tore the battle suit from her form, it was suffocating. She stomped completely naked to her cabinet of wine, her midnight blue hair strewn around her. She was blood-soaked everywhere that suit had not touched. Risque's hand shot out rapidly and uncorked it with haste, naturally going for the rarest one of all. She drew it upward so her lips could wrap around the mouth of the bottle and immediately took a deep drink not bothering to savour it as such a rare exotic flavour should be. The tang of fairy blood and wine hit her tongue and began to sing and buzz at contact like an electric jolt of life sizzling within her mouth and against the stress of that evening. This was exactly what she needed. She savoured it for a moment before the vampire queen then stalked into the closet, throwing several items over her shoulder, uncaring of the mess she was making. She settled upon an oversized shirt. A dark shirt that was not her own fell to her thighs, she hadn't even been aware of the print in her self-indulgent rage. She stormed back with the full bottle clasped snuggly in her hand. Still dangerous and unpredictable even with how ridiculous she looked. She never dressed like this.

She returned, slipping into bed wordlessly, sitting up straight against the plush pillows against her back, covered legs bent at the knees as she took another deep swig from that bottle. Oh, how she drank like she was starving too. After all that had transpired that night. After all that persisted inside of her, something strong was exactly what she needed.

"I'm not sharing." She warned as she pulled that bottle to her lips again, wishing she had two, one for each hand, certain Darcy might have caught a whiff of fairy blood by now. She grumbled inwardly, nursing on that drink not speaking until she could no longer taste the irrational rage. "At least not until you start making sense to me again." Maybe for that, she needed to be high too. Not a bad idea, not that she needed convincing as she nursed on that drink.

A quiet then descended upon the pair and after several moments, one that Risque eventually shattered. "How I miss the days when we would fuck in the blood of our enemies after we fought." Oh yes, the fae blood was working and that time for eloquent speech was long gone.