Risque was selfish as she drank. Darcy was unable to indulge as she could. It was cruel. The way she relished in the soothing fae blood as she sought what it provided her. Her mind still whirling from that war that ended almost as soon as it began with enough to go wrong to create the perfect storm. That drink was the fragile lifeline that saved them all from that cataclysmic consequence. Yet, it was the way her mate looked at her that made her pause. She could sense that intensity behind his fixated gaze from the moment she left the bed and even more so now as she was within it. She recognized that look far too many times in the eyes of her own pet and countless others. Defiance. The midnight-haired vampire simply noticed it, taking note as she finished one last hollow swallow of that tantalizing liquid.

But that hint of a challenge was harboured within that stare, nestled deeply within his mismatched eyes as his own hunger rode him. Yet she had expected his hunger, she did not expect that look he gave her now, in this very space they shared. Defiance. She was surrounded by it. How it started to wear upon her far more than it ever had before.

She waited. Waited to see if her mate might actually make that strike that was clearly not intended to be playful, the first real move against her and her authority. Right on the coattails of his admission of love seemed like a blatant contradiction. A contradiction to the sacrifice he had made just before that. The noted tension throughout the entirety of the ravager's body did not seem to yield but grow, the way he fisted his hands into the bedsheets for control. So much so that it threatened to rip like paper beneath those clutches, that she felt the slight tug from the silken fabric beneath her on her own side as she grasped at control. She could see the battle he currently fought. A simple, soft sigh had fallen from her as the thick silence persisted for but a moment before those words of consideration slipped from her lips. Perhaps a mercy to them both. She missed the days when they would fuck after a battle. Those words were nothing short of truthful. That was a language they knew far too well. It did not require words. It simply required action, connection and it was nothing... but honest between them.

Her mate's demeanour altered considerably at the shift in topics. The she-devil could see the want and not the sobered reality of their wicked world. How she continued along that seductive trail still as she mentioned that victory was like an aphrodisiac. How she meant it. Her cowboy almost looked eager to agree as he admitted it was the best one. Such an answer hardly seemed surprising to her as she was at least willing to immerse herself in something else that wasn't the elephants that remained in the room. The fact that he had nearly died for her. Clashing with the mere moments ago he might have been willing to challenge her if his body could handle it.

But that very moment, that was familiar. The way eyes seemed to trail across her body as if he never tired of looking at her. Even as she wore his shirt that sat too baggy upon her, Darcy looked at her like she was wearing the most revealing lingerie. He seemed captivated. The blood was forgotten as he mentioned that while they might not be able to give into their normal desires, they could still make out. How that sparked the true sound of amusement. Make out. How almost juvenile that it sounded and yet how..... it truly wasn't. How easily there was nothing innocent about the way they kissed.

Risque could see the potent desire within him. She knew that look all too well. She felt it too. Her body almost craved that instinctual collision that always ended up with her on top and many times Darcy restrained in some way or another. She had found she liked the use of his hands though. How times have evolved. How they evolved together in many ways she hadn't quite noticed before. Or perhaps, she was simply in the mood to let him truly ravage her... the desire to simply feel her mate in that very moment had flitted across the expanse of her intricate mind. She had almost lost him and that sense of physicality seemed to appeal to her in more ways than she had ever truly known. Yet she could see Darcy was lost to a memory of the past just as her mind was mere moments before it wandered. Hm. His suggestion was tempting.

The idea of ravaging him surely had its appeal, speaking to the vampire queen's forever dominant nature. Her lover's words caused a tug at her lips into a slight kiss of a knowing smile at the mention, she could. Just like old times when she told him he was doing it wrong. He claimed. Well, that would require him to do something wrong. That was quite a long time since she uttered those words to him. Her mate was no stranger in knowing just how to please her. The mood shifted into something far better than the one that had darkened around her before. How it revealed far more than she was willing to admit. She placed that wine bottle on her side table, purposefully leaving some behind for later. For him. Still forever a cruel mistress in many facets. Not that he ever complained. But maybe because she was not entirely, not with him.

The rest of the world could have her hatred for humanity and its idiocrasy. But Darcy... In the moment, could have something that no one else could.

Risque then shifted without another word, that movement graceful, sinuous and yet not quite predatory even though they were always so reminiscent of a feline. She ended up with a leg on either side of him, wearing nothing but that oversized shirt that rode upwards. She positioned herself in a way that kept her weight from him and yet simultaneously a whisper of how she might wish to ravish him.

She knew exactly how to position her body, to hover and yet press against the man beneath her with just enough to drive herself to a point near annoyed by being unable to truly act on it. It was that very moment that caused her to continue forward, to press her lips to his.

At first, that stolen kiss was for herself. To ensure he was truly there, with her. One that caused Darcy to groan with want, the very sound of it she consumed as she deepened it the moment his lips parted. Not a moment later, his hands found her waist. His grip tightened, the desire to turn that kiss into something far more urgent.... And yet how it was hardly like any before it. Languid, passionate, more than mere desire.

It was more than she had ever truly allowed to peek through. A kiss that mirrored the calamity of true emotion that she had almost lost him. All those very words she seemed unable to say poured into that very act. One that she expressed with her tongue that brushed against his own, ever so skillfully to avoid the prick of his fangs even though she liked the feel of those sharpened edges.

The kiss seemed to possess her more than any other thought. She seemed content to revel in the feel of him and yet so did he. There was no demand, no battle for control. How she could hardly even wonder what might have occurred if they didn't have to cease. Risque knew her lover was hardly capable now to explore it truly. Even though that part of him seemed to work just fine, that much she could feel. Her hand caressed his skin as it wandered purposefully downward and not in the way both of them wanted.

That kiss broke just as she got close to that spot near his wound. Just after she pulled away. It was the barest of touches and yet it was enough that it brought a wince and sharp intake of breath, his body jolting its protest like a veritable ice bath for them both.

She had barely touched him. That look on her face was clear as if presenting the silent question, see? Yet.... How she almost needed that point driven into herself as much as he did. How even despite that very reaction, how reluctant his hands were to leave her hips. His mismatched gaze seemed to meet her own, dazed and surprised as a yielding sigh rushed forward from him in near silent understanding. Ah, perhaps there were many ways they could also enjoy one another and yet.... The moment of holding out would only make the moment that much greater. Days? A week? Could they last days in this proximity? Her thoughts were silenced by his heavily southern-accented words.

Her name was a question as if her attention was not already upon him and yet there was an intimacy to it as she still heard that desire. That mention she should kiss him like that a whole lot more often. Was it possible to kiss like that again? Or was it because of all that had happened? The fae blood? Almost losing him? That strange connection upon the battlefield? Was it still there? How he almost saw the beginning of a smile that curled upon her very lips as he allowed his hands to fall just a moment too early to witness it. Her own body slid off of him, reluctantly shifting to her side of the bed once more, settling within the blankets before she replied.

"I would not be against that, but maybe when..... you are not... what is the word I am looking for.. incapacitated." She could still feel the feel of him against her own lips. That promise to ravage him properly when he could handle it was one she was sure to fulfil the moment he was healed enough. The obvious disappointment in his sigh said more than anything else. Wordlessly, she reached for the bottle she had hogged before to soften the blow. He could 'protect' it now. How they both knew what that actually meant.

Darcy hardly wasted another moment for that bottle to reach his lips as he emptied out the contents of what was left into his mouth. How too much of that potent fae blood might have spurred on what Ezra had warned them of. Too much blood would only cause that poison to ravage him and not in the way he wished for. He hummed his appreciation at that very taste. Content to drink in that rare, exotic blood as she considered that very kiss before they were soon interrupted by a loud and jarring thud just outside the door.

The audacity of those males of Syn to squabble for her lover's position like it could be fought over like hyenas over a piece of meat. Like they were man enough to hold that position. While she never ceased to enjoy watching Darcy dominate those who stood in his way with his display of what was deemed a beautiful brutality she enjoyed most night. But tonight, was different. He was in no shape to do so and those possessive claws still gripped her resolutely despite the blood that had soothed. The mated pair both eyed the door with a narrowed glare, as they knew well enough what was sure to follow.

This was not the first battle that they had won. But this was the first where Darcy had actually been injured enough to create such a... ruckus that rippled out into all of Syn. A first real opportunity to claim the very spot near the top as a dominant male within the wicked kingdom of the damned. The very truth of that fact irritated her. The mention that she would need to take care of 'that' soon if they did not take care of themselves.

The mate bond changed the rules. One that defied the nature of their species. Something that those other vampires clearly did not account for. Risque's choice. How it was the only thing that mattered. That instinct to protect what was hers overrode the unspoken 'rules' of their kind. How the way she sat up in that bed with readiness and just after that very kiss... there was no mistaking that she was fully prepared to protect what was hers.

Darcy's voice broke the eerie quiet. That mention he could take them... before correcting himself... some of them. This earned a look from Risque. "You could, I have no doubt. But not without breaking every last stitch and wounding yourself further. Yet, I think those little boys need a lesson from me." Came her own French-accented words, followed by the riotous sound of a fight that picked up again. Darcy mentioned that he could smell Chase. At least he was closest. Chase? Now that was surprising. "I didn't think the boy had it in him." Risque mused out loud with the emphasis on the word 'boy'. He was so very young and the fact that he was able to even make it to that door first was surprising.

Darcy unexpectedly and abruptly addressed the DJ. Welcoming him inside, within the proverbial lion's den, unlocking the door from their room electronically. Risque could not help that look of true surprise. Why invite him in? The young, volatile vampire who was pumped up on adrenaline and cockiness not quite earned made his way into the living room and then up into the bedroom. Chase's bared teeth already flashed in a clear violent challenge. His eyes were only for the injured cowboy and there was no way to mistake the murderous glowering intent within them as he stared down his opponent.

Darcy made no move to leave the bed and meet the other vampire, not even the faintest concerned about the threat he invited inside. Chase did not even pay Risque a single glance as he spat his clear challenge, a bold claim that it was over for him caused Risque's fangs, pearly white flashed as she began to move forward. To put that little cockroach back into his place which was not at her side. But on the ground, ground into the filthy dirt, perhaps even over the balcony near dawn after she made sure he could not get up. But the moment never transpired as a loud bang silenced the young vampire with a too-rapid move from Darcy. Leaving behind a perfect bullet hole through the other vampire's head. The sound of it rang through her ears as the DJ dropped to the ground before he even finished his vacant threat. A far less loud second shot fired and found its way across the large expanse of that room to the door, only to swiftly make its way to slam the heavy metal-enforced door closed, the automatic locks sliding back into place. She would not allow bullet holes to riddle that room.

Darcy was more than content to blow the smoke from his finger as if it was one of his own guns. The scent of smoke and vampire blood filled the air as Chase bled out all over the floor from that head wound. Always so dramatic. As men had the tendency to be. Darcy spat his curses about the young brazen vampire who seemed content to press his luck. Risque agreed. "That one has never been too bright." And now he left a blood stain in the middle of the bedroom like a nuisance and depleted the final reserves that Darcy possessed in a final show of power.

He should have been resting... Healing. She should have fed him the sedative earlier.

"I will never get used to seeing that... I still do not know where the bullets come from or how it smells like smoke and gunpowder like you used one of your guns. Although, it's best for the state of this room that we leave the shooting outside of this room. Oui?" That wild west could persist out there... not in here. She reached for his hand then to simply examine it for charred flesh and found nothing but normal pale fingers, only to further realize that some powers.... Just were. Baffling really. To make that statement all too clear that he was not going anywhere. Darcy mentioned that he broke a stitch. That declaration came to no surprise as she hissed, even though she could already tell by the fresher scent of his own blood well before he announced that the stitches that held the wound closed was broken again.

Now the little shaman would make a scene tomorrow. Ezra took nothing but pride in his stitches, those rare times the supernatural needed them to heal. Usually, in a slow healing wound like Darcy's or to reattach a dismembered limb. It was far better to reattach a limb rather than wait for one to grow back. A long, deeply painful and gruelling process that it was. It took a lot for those stitches to break. Perhaps a small price to prove that those vampires didn't have a chance. She should have fed her mate that sedative from the start. How she knew it and yet it would seem Risque hardly followed 'orders' either.

Risque released her lover's hand, wordlessly, the she-devil slipped out of bed and toward the DJ as she peered down at the vampire intruder with distaste. She paused to look to the bed with her wounded mate safely inside of it, propped in the comfortable sea of dark pillows and silken sheets.

Those pale eyes flicked to the mismatched gaze of his. These were his enemies and therefore her own. It was perhaps a rare but fair offer that he decide their punishment.

"Dar?" She uttered with a saccharine tone, pale blue eyes took him in. "Would my mate like me to just maim them or kill them?" It was a question so nonchalant for being so pivotal. Uncaring she was wearing nothing but a shirt, she would do it all the same in nothing at all if she had to. She looked down at the DJ again, it was almost like Chase was the garbage that was meant to be taken to the curb. He would make a nice entry mat for the others to see, the gunshot in his head making a perfect statement that Darcy was not as weak as they thought. Perhaps, such a statement was an important one to send just as much as the one she was about to make.

She lowered down smoothly, languid, only for that slender left hand cuffed around the limp wrist of the DJ firmly as she dragged him across the floor to the bedroom door as she hesitated there, waiting for his lover's answer. Either way, the choice was his.