Darcy explained his finger guns and the cowboy hardly understood how it worked, only that it just did. Powers often worked in mysterious ways and yet as she turned over his hand within her own, she examined it for any sign that marred his flesh only to find it smooth and perfect. However, Darcy did not appear to share Risque's sentiment of turning their room into target practice if the heavy sigh that left his lips that followed his conceding words was anything to go by. Those words would have to do. It was then that she released Darcy's hand from her own as her cowboy admitted he broke a stitch amidst the action he took to shoot the DJ. A hiss left her lips. She had been careful not to break them and he managed to accomplish it himself. That little shaman would be unbearable when he checked on his handy work the following evening, perhaps Ezra should have anticipated it. The two vampires were not gentle creatures.

Risque's pale blue eyes then flit to merely look in the direction of the weeping wound at his side. Darcy reached to pull those bedsheets to cover him in a feeble effort to shield himself from her. Her sharp gaze then sliced upward to his face. A puzzled frown etched across her usually smooth features as she felt an obnoxious dull pang. She was free from wounds so what was that very thing she felt? Something within that action had evoked something unfamiliar within the she-devil. "You hide from me." She stated in a low voice with a soft shake of her head. After everything, he hid from her? She tore her attention away from him before she removed herself from the bed. No longer willing to tolerate the view of Chase from the bed. She moved toward the unconscious form of the vampire DJ, head tipped down to observe the inconvenience that invaded her space.

She bent smoothly, knees together to a crouch to allow her elegant fingers to wrap soundly around the fallen vampire's limp, lifeless wrist before she started to drag the corpse out. She only took a few steps before her body twisted to turn toward her mate with an offer. An extremely rare choice of the fate of his current enemies that sought to remove him from his rank and... from her. Certainly, he would wish for some input. Those mate bonds firmly in place seemed to allow her lover that very choice at that very moment. One that earned her a smile that made his feature appear boyish rather than perpetually glaring at the world at large with the single exception to her. How 'swell of her' he claimed as he spoke. Did he not sense them? It wasn't Chase she referred to. There were at least two engaged in battle down the hall from the entry of their living quarters. Her cowboy claimed he hardly was in the mood to hire new staff and to simply maim them, but to make sure to punish him real good. Yet his answer was enough. Perhaps it was the correct choice to let them live. The worthy survived the war, and they would still need able bodies. They were merely acting upon instinct and yet she would hardly allow them to escape unscathed. Not when those rare protective instincts still lingered within her.

"I did not mean Chase, the DJ isn't capable of harming the smallest of insects in his current state with a bullet lodged in his head. I meant the other two." The she-devil corrected. There was no point in maiming something that couldn't feel it. It was a waste of effort and a mercy they hardly deserved.

"It is settled." Was all the vampire queen uttered before she resumed her exit. The incapacitated DJ's lifeless form dragged across the dark hardwood floor, uncaring of the blood trail and the task of the servant who would clean it. It was Darcy's parting words that reached her all the same as if he would miss her presence when she left. "It will not take long." Was all she said, the duality of his words from his actions.

Not one to leave anything to chance, she summoned her felines within the room to guard her exhausted mate as she slipped out through their living quarters, then out the heavy, secured doors and into the hallway.

There was no gentleness in the way she handled Chase's body, as she positioned it in such a way that the bullet hole was on clear display. What an unseemly sight and yet she was satisfied enough with the message that his body provided. She wasted no time as she made her way down the hall to the increased sound of warring vampires and she moved with a purpose toward them. No this would not take long at all.

They had been lost, locked to the heat of their own intense battle for rank as if they did not have enough from the war just before. But nothing could ignore the lash of power and destruction that came with every silent footfall as she made her way to the vampires that squabbled over something that would never be theirs. The pair might not have seen her at first, far too focused on one another. But once they felt her, it was Ian's gaze that found her first. Silas ceased shortly after as the two vampires snapped out of their trace.

"Oh, shit" Had come from Ian as it registered that she had not merely come to watch, but she looked like a tidal wave of malice headed right for them. With an abruptness, he dropped the chokehold on Silas and both vampires sought to escape and run. "I did not say you could run." She chided calmly before her hand snaked forward as it wrapped around the closest unfortunate vampire's shoulder and jerked the dark-haired Silas to a halt while Chase escaped. That hand then fell swiftly to his arm to tug him roughly close and behind his back painfully to hinder his movement. Snap... something in his arm broke with a mighty crack.. Something else had given way too. It was difficult to say what with his pained incomprehensible shout.

"Silas..." She crooned in disappointment as she moved with a speed that made her next move impossible to see like an executioner's blade. Before a word could be uttered, a clean and efficient graceful move required both hands upon his head. His head barely held on with how far she had spun it. It was like his neck was eager to break. Far better than the sound of his broken arm. The vampire would not heal properly until those bones were set. It was hardly the punishment she preferred but it would have to suffice.

With one other vampire incapacitated, Risque dragged Silas' lifeless form into the club where most of her vampires congregated. Her presence had earned a reverent silence at the sight of their queen. Even as she wore nothing but Darcy's oversized t-shirt, her presence was a demanding thing to be respected. They could feel the power that radiated from her, the silent fury that rolled off from her in a potent violent wave. All her powers were ready as a weapon to use against any and all who opposed her. Not a single being in that room dared to move. The she-devil dropped Silas's broken body for all to see in the middle of that dance floor. There was no need for more words. No need for anything else. Well, perhaps just one more thing and she was missing but she could scent him out like he was her prey.

"Ian? You aren't hiding from me are you?" Her saccharine voice carried out as if it could ensnare him as she had faced the direction that she knew he hid. Behind the bar. It was so difficult to imagine that this was the man that thought he could beat her lover. This... was easy, a burden... but child's play. It was like she was punishing children.

The vampire queen progressed with superhuman speed to appear she grabbed him by the back of the throat, and her fangs flashed as she had him rise, only to shove him back into the back of the bar, face first. Without thought, she reached for a bottle that had been opened, breaking it against the bar only to bring the jagged shard of glass to stab Ian into his lift side, right between the meaty narrow space between his ribs. The narrow shard of glass sunk in slowly like she savoured the feel of it on an exhale. As he was forced to savour it. She was met with a whimper. It was not by chance alone that it was in the same vicinity where Darcy had been stabbed with that stake and yet not deep enough to make it to his heart. It was almost poetic. Something her demand was not.

"Now clean up this mess and do not remove the glass from your side until nightfall tomorrow as a reminder. Consider it as......" She paused as she considered her use of words. "Atonement. Oui." She lowered her voice with a seductive kind of cruelty as she twisted the glass, satisfied with the girlish squeal he made before she released him and stepped away.

Silence. She promptly avoided the glass with her bare feet. She noted all the heads that were bowed and eyes that did not dare meet her own in their obvious submission to their dominant matriarch. That was more like it.

"Is there anyone else who wishes to challenge my mate?" Her voice was like lightning that struck in the way it commanded their attention as she stepped out around the bar clear across that space as she took one fluid step after the next. She waited for a reply, a sound. Not a single soul stepped forward. Not one said a word. Her pale eyes scanned over the faces of those she ruled over. Nothing.

That was what she thought. There was no mistaking the undertone of her words. There was no debating that she would cut through anyone that sought to kill her cowboy in this weakened state.

Once satisfied with the response, she pivoted with the grace of the felines she commanded and sauntered out of the hushed room with the feel of their eyes glued to her back. She hardly cared that she wore nothing but a t-shirt, surprisingly free from bloodshed. She strode barefoot, every inch a queen. She did not stop until the heavy door fell shut and locked behind her and she was met with a far more settled silence.

In that very moment, she longed for many things. None of which she could possess besides the bed that waited for her. She made her way into the bedroom and confirmed the state of her mate that was secure in the king-sized bed. With a mere wave of her hand that caused her leopards to slink away.

"It is done. They both ran when they saw me and Ian tried to hide." She uttered to her mate, half amused and unsurprised. Just before she gave that room one last sweep of that room with her senses. All remained, just as she left it.

Risque sliced effortlessly across the room a final time to grab the concoction that Ezra had made. She pulled out a sharp, clean blade from her bedside table. She should have done this sooner than she had. She placed the bowl on her night table and brought the blade down onto her wrist with no hesitation.

A simple intake of breath was the only sound she made as it bit and broke into her exposed skin as she held it firmly in place to cease the wound from closing. The knife was held at an angle as gravity took over and allowed the blood to flow down into the bowl. A steady stream of blood instantly fused with the concoction Ezra made.

Risque eyed her own wound before she felt it again. That same sensation from battle. It felt ancient but impossibly familiar. And so very eager.

How curious it was and yet she would never forget the feeling of it. The seductive pull of it. How she wished to play with the intimate sensation and yet she had only touched upon it with the faintest of interest. There was quite a bit she could do with this and it was not the time. Even still, she called her blood to simply cease before she pulled away the blade. Not a single drop dripped down her forearm as she lifted it, nor a single drip wasted at all. In fact, no blood stained her blade. It was perfectly clean. All the contents had ended up in the bowl to soak into herbs with her essence. Her wounded wrist already had begun to close as she left the blade on her night table and moved around the bed to Darcy's side once more.

"Buvez maintenant. (Drink now)" She ordered softly, not that she needed the words because her actions spoke enough as the bowl grasped within her hand was pressed to his lips. He would likely need no prompt with her blood on the line when he had waited for this reward the moment it was promised.