It was an almost instinctive reaction, the veritable hiss from his lover at the sight of his wounded, weeping side enough to prompt the Ravager to reach for the blanket, tugging it upward and over his side to attempt to shield that imperfection from his mates view. How readily he knew of his lover's fascination for all things macabre. Her utter delight in examining wounds of all sorts a near curious facet of her very nature the Ravager had always found endearing and yet- how readily loath he was to allow her to see him so....imperfect. When she had come to expect perfection from him time and again. When she had trained him to achieve that very thing. His vampiric healing had....failed him tonight, in a fashion it never had before. Such a thing was loathsome. A veritable weakness Darcy was uninclined to allow to continue to fester and yet- how utterly his exhausted figure could do anything but. The very frown that found his Queen's features was so hardly missed, her words a veritable hiss like the lash of a whip as she queried why he dared hide that wound from her beneath those layers of blanket. Her words prompted a shake of his own head as the southern cowboys mismatched gaze shifted upward to meet the hypnotic blue of her own. The very blue he had fallen into the depths of the very night they had met those centuries ago. Her gaze was as flawless as it had ever been.

"I ain't like ya seein' when I dun look right."

It was instinct, perhaps, that prompted the vampiric creature to desire to hide that wound and yet- perhaps too, it was within the very nature of Darcy himself to be loath to allow his lover to gaze at...an imperfection for too long. Not when he so often worked so very hard to present her only with that which she rightfully deserved- flawlessness. No, it would not do for her mind to fixate upon his wounds. Not now. Not when the hoards continued to salivate at their very door. How hardly he doubted her own loyalty. Not with that mated bond so potent tonight,more so then it had ever been and yet- vampiric nature was fickle. It was, however, the very sight of Chase collapsed upon the floor from that bullet to his forehead that seemed to fascinate both vampires then. Darcy's gaze nearly readily followed his mate's own as Risque rose from the bed with feline grace, her lithe form gliding across that room to eye the unconscious DJ with disdain. She bent smoothly, her elegant fingers grasping the fallen man with every intention, he suspected, of dragging him from the room. How hardly the cowboy had anticipated being offered that choice. The manner of punishment after all, was so often the vampiric Queen's alone to decide and yet- how readily his own wicked thoughts so relished in exacting that veritable revenge tonight. The vampire cowboy, in that moment, was nearly oblivious to those others who battled outside their door. His own senses, perhaps, readily dulled by that poison that hummed with discord within his veins, ravaging his vampiric form even despite its continued efforts to heal. That decision of just how to punish Chase, however, seemed to prompt some measure of thought to the vampire's features. To kill him would be undoubtedly satisfying, a thorn removed from his side and yet....Chase was but one of the few within Syn that Darcy was inclined to admit performed the very role for which he had been hired. He was popular amongst their patrons. To hire a new DJ would be an effort he was loath to indulge within. Let alone the....paperwork. That insistence that maiming was, perhaps a more fitting punishment if only to spare them greater work later so readily seemed to satisfy his lover in turn. The vampiric Queen pausing momentarily.

Risque's veritable insistence that it was the others she referred to only seemed to coax a near curious look to Darcy's features in turn. Others? His own head titled, the southern cowboy near straining his hearing in the moment to extend as it so often did with effortless ease. Had his sense become so truly dull as this? How....fucking irritating. The sounds of those male vampires squabbling outside, however, managed to reach his ears like a dulled echo. That sound appeared further away. Darcy's tongue brushed across his fangs, toying with those sharpened points.

"Maim dem too, eh?"

Risque's insistence that it would be done so readily seemed to satisfy the wounded cowboy, his lips pulling upward into a near devilish grin as Risque slipped from the room. Darcy, once more fixating upon those distant sounds in an effort to hear that punishment unfold. The sudden appearance of several of those felines, however, so readily seemed to distract the cowboys attention, Darcy content to eye them near warily as they began to settle about the room. Risque's order, no doubt. One of those smaller felines seemed all but content to pass at the side of the bed, Darcy's gaze shifting downward to eye it.

"Dun ya even tink bout gettin' up 'ere."

His heavy accent seemed to prompt a veritable huff from the feline as she settled upon the floor, Darcy eyeing her with a momentary satisfaction. Those felines were rarely, if ever, inclined to listen to his commands without the presence of those silver gloves or Risques own command.Darcy's gaze shifted back to that door, the fighting from outside seeming to have...ceased. A silence having fallen over that club once more. How certain Darcy was he knew why. Risue's mere presence amongst them would be enough to prompt them to cower, to grovel, to remember their goddamn places beneath her. Later,when his side was healed he would be sure to establish his own dominance once more over those who had dared challenge it tonight. That silence continued to echo down those halls before the sound of Risque's bare feet suddenly filled that space, the vampire Queen emerging through the door a moment later, her still figure dressed within his oversized shirt alone. The very sight was so readily enough to prompt the vampiric cowboy's thoughts to...drift once more to the figure he knew existed beneath that fabric. Taut and firm and feminine and...flawless. Her veritable inclined his very groin was to ache in that moment. Darcy was forced to shift his figure ever so slightly, only for those stitches to pull again, forcing those thoughts from his mind. The feline Queen strode toward him then, her near velveteen words insisting it was done. That Ian, of all of them, had tried to hide. That insistence prompted a snort from the cowboy.

"I ain't surprised, always been a coward dat one. Only stays when he knows he ain't gonna lose."

It was a weak trait. To side only with the side that was sure to win and yet, how certain Darcy was that a great deal of vampire kind seemed to possess it. They called it....self preservation. Darcy was far more inclined to consider it....lack of confidence. A weak minded trait possessed by fools. Still, the manner, for tonight, had surely been handled. A sudden, near sharp intake of breath so prompted his mismatched gaze to shift abruptly sideways, the vampiric cowboy readily eyeing his mate as that blade sliced open her flesh, parting that muscle and sinew to allow the blood within to spill outward. How readily that scent seemed to permeate the air, ensnaring his gaze, his focus, the mere sight enough to prompt that saliva to his jaws in response as hunger clawed wildly with his gut once more. His mismatched gaze followed her every motion like a man possessed. Darcy, in that moment, so readily captivated by his lover once more. Her blood was...the highest of rewards. Rich and red and flawless. Its taste far beyond any other to his own mind. Darcy, in that moment, was nearly oblivious to the 'additions' to that drink. Those added ingredients from Ezra's own stores so readily blended into that blood, concealed beneath its ruby surface. Darcy so readily ignored that faint....scent within his lovers blood that had never existed before. His hunger so betraying caution.

Risque moved once more, her feminine figure gliding toward him, that bowl so suddenly held to his lips with that uttered french command. How readily those words seemed to meld with the scent of that blood, Darcy so assured that gesture was permission enough alone as his lips parted. One hand reached forward to grasp Risque's own wrist, that action gentle and yet firm- keeping her there lest she try and remove that meal far before he was ready.How greedily he drunk from that bowl, that instivie desire to bite prompting a sudden -crack- within that preclin as Darcy's free hand near hurriedly reached upward to catch those falling shards.

"Sorry."
His gaze flickered upward, meeting her own, that singular uttered word offering some glimmer of control beneath that desire to feed as Darcy all but drained that bowl, his tongue licking it clean, sweeping across even those fractured edges before, at last, releasing her hand. A readily sated look, at last, seeming to settle upon his features. That hunger, for now at least, momentarily quelled. Darcy's tongue moved to shift across his fangs again, the vampire savoring that taste for several moments before his features seemed to frown.

"Who yar been eatin' darlin'? Dat 'ad kinda a...funny taste."

It was hardly bad, Risque's blood, after all, was the pinnacle of creation within his mind and yet that aftertaste was...oddly potent. Perhaps it hardly mattered. That veritable tiredness abruptly seeming to settle upon the cowboy then as he lay back agianst those pillows once more

"Tanks for dat, reckon dats me favourite reward. Cept for sex."

All those years and still her blood was held at the highest of pinnacles, an almost lazy simper finding the cowboys lips as one hand lifted to rub at his eyes in a fashion almost boyish. How readily that room was almost...spinning and yet how decidedly...calm the Ravager was inclined to feel about it. Darcy's figure shifted slightly, making room beside him upon that bed, the vampire oblivious now to the pull on those stitches, that pain seeming to have faded entirely.

"Risque? Reckon yar should...stay....just dare."

Darcy's head nodded slightly to that spot beside him. Those words far more....request, then demand, the Ravager seeming inclined to fight that sleep only so long as it took his mate to settle beside him. Darcy, finally, giving in to Ezra's medicine, his figure content with Risque agianst him in that simple knowledge of....safety. Enough to allow himself to sleep.

We are rough men and used to rough ways.