The very taste of that kiss, the feel of it, the emotion within it had near imprinted itself upon the cowboys very soul. Never, in over a century together, had Risque ever kissed him like that. In a way that left him...breathless-and desperately craving more of that very connection. It was a singular touch of his lover's finger to his wounded side that seemed to jar his thoughts back into an almost stark reality. That pain was almost instantaneous-provoking a sudden, sharp intake of breath. One that shattered those feelings of intimacy that twisted within his mind (and groin). Risque was....right. As reluctant as he was to accept that very notion. Now was not the time to engage in that passionate,destructive sex that so often followed any blood drenched evening. His body, for the first time in his vampiric life, was hardly strong enough. Not when the mere press of her finger sent him reeling. Still- that insistence that she should kiss him like that more often was added readily. The feline-like woman insisted she would not be agianst it-but not now. Not tonight. Darcy was forced to reluctantly yield that desire as he lay back agianst the pillow. The vampiric Queen settled beside him as he reluctantly released his hold uponher hips. The offering of that bottle of Fae blood perhaps an effort on her part to lessen that metaphorical blow as he reached for it easily. His Ravager instincts, if nothing else, were quick to take control of that offered boon. That hunger that clawed at his stomach and throat pressed abruptly to the forefront of his mind. That he shouldn't drink that blood had so hardly occurred to him. Darcy lacked any shred of self control at that moment. Ezra's warnings all but forgotten as he upended that bottle. The cowboy drank greedily until every drop was drained. His tongue licking up any stray traces.

The sudden sound of yet another fight breaking out behind the bedroom door prompted an irritated hiss to spit from the cowboys lips. Darcy, in that moment, nursing those injuries and yet settled upon that bed with his mate and too- the remains of that blood was nothing short of.....protective. The Ravager was hardly inclined to share but even one of those things. Even if the very notion that it was surely hard for a taste of that blood those other vampires amassed. The unspoken law amongst their species was clear. A dominant vampire existed for only as long as he or she could hold that title. Until another toppled them for that throne. This was surely the first time within....over a century that position for dominant male within the darkened walls of Syn had ever truly been....obtainable. Darcy, tonight, was far less...capable of defending himself then he so often was. The male vampires of Syn having begun to swarm that area like sharks. That metaphorical blood within the water seemed to send them into a veritable frenzy and yet- those bonds of matehood had shifted those rules. Darcy so hardly alone upon that throne. Rusque- so long the dominant vampire of allwithinSyn, so hardly seemed inclined to abandon her mate- nor allow his veritable crown to be taken. They were fools, the lot of them, if they ever thought they might defy their queen. Darcy, in that moment, inclined to a renewed irritation if only for the way in which they disrespected her with their actions. His lip pulled lightly back from his fangs, a soft hiss parting his lips as he insisted he could still take them. Well. Some of them.

Risque's hypnotic gaze settled upon him, the vampiric Queen musing her agreement and yet she had little intention for him to tear open those stitches even if she did agree the 'boys' of Syn required a lesson in obedience. Darcy's head nodded in ready agreement, a singular taste of the air assuring him that Chase,the young DJ, had managed to push his way to the front of that crowd. Risque was quick to muse that she hardly believed the boy had it in him, that very notion prompting a snort of amusement from the cowboy. Risque was right. Chase at the head of that pack was a surprise. The boy was young and yet- perhaps he had some shred of potential. Those vampiric instincts clearly turned strongly within him. Hmmm. Perhaps they should test him. Darcy's sudden insistence they let Chase in was followed by that door unlocking and opening. The young blond vampire all but tore through those private rooms and toward the bedroom, his fangs bared in a clear challenge. Those words he tried to utter clearly indicated as much before the -crack- of gunfire echoed within the room. Chase seemed almost...dumbfounded. The vampire blinked for several moments before abruptly tumbling backward onto the floor. A perfect bullet hole within his skull as he began to bleed onto the carpet. Thatshot would hardly kill him, the boy certain to recover in time and yet a roaring headache and some time unconscious would surely remind him of his very place as Darcy blew the smoke from his finger.

Risque's insistence that Chase had never been all that bright coaxed a chuckle from the depths of Darcy's throat. The southern cowboy so evidently felt better in that moment as his lover insisted she hardly knew where that bullet came from or how it always smelled like smoke and gun powder. Darcy's mismatched gaze glanced downward, the cowboy momentarily eyeing his fingers.

"I dun know neither. Is jus one o'dem tings dat works."

The mechanics of that affinity were one Darcy had clearly never considered too deeply, the vampire merely inclined to accept the notion that the power worked and worked well. Risque's insistence she did not desire bullet holes all through their private rooms however was met with an almost reluctant and yet yielding sigh.

"Alright, I ain't shoot no more."

He uttered those promised words within that ever present southern drawl as risque reached for his hand, turning it over as if to examine it entirely before Darcy felt his side beginning to bleed again. At least one of those stitches so evidently having broken open in response to tht movement. That irritated hiss from his mate at the sight of those stitches prompted the cowboy to reach for that blanket once more, tugging it up and over his bruised, bloodied side in some effort to prevent the vampiric queen having to eye that injury. That new loss of blood prompted a clear...tiredness to the cowboy as he lay back within those pillows once more. Maybe they could..clean up from Chase tomorrow night. Risque moved to slide from that bed a moment later. That singular movement prompted Darcy's gaze to follow before she paused to glance toward him in turn- as if seeking to assure herself he remained entirely within that bed. Risque moved to bend down then. Her slender, feminine figure, draped in nothing but his shirt was undeniably...sexy. Her fingers wrapped around Chase's wrist, lifting the unconscious vampire effortlessly as she queried whether he desired Chase killed or just maimed. That very question prompted a lift in both his eyes. That choice was never his own to make. Risque so often inclined to decide. Darcy himself often commanded to assure her choice was carried out. That momentary reversal of roles propted a simper to his features.

"Daww, you ain't never let me choose. Dats real swell of ya."

That he might get to decide what she did to their victim was so clearly a thrilling notion. That wound and his own tiredness once more forgotten as Darcy seemed to consider that choice before him

"Reckon yar should just maim 'im. We ain't got another DJ and I ain't feelin' like 'iring."

It was unfortunate, perhaps, that Syn required a DJ. They could get by with recordings or Ipod playlists for a few nights and yet sooner or later their clientele would begin anticipating the return of a true DJ. Chase was, regrettably, half decent at that very role. Darcy hardly found he had the energy to consider a hiring process here and now.

"Make sure ya punish 'im damn good."

Risque, after all, excelled at that very thing. Chase sure to regret ever stepping out of line. A singular lesson surely all it would take to ensure the man never did so again.

"Come back ta bed after dat 'eh? Reckon I kinda like it when yar next to me."

We are rough men and used to rough ways.