"Should you kill any man with eyes? Or would you simply blind them all?" Risque questioned blase, her voice a saccharine melody that possessed a less than obvious dark humour woven within her words as though the thought amused her. Whether she found truth in them, she never alluded to it. With the presence of food and the entire lack of release that had built an all too alluring edge to him. All the things she could do with that virile energy played casually within her mind, a varied selection that she could merely pick off a shelf and execute like no other being in existence. It never seemed to bore her with his less than predictable actions even though he often worked in the suffocating parameters of her potential ire. How easy it was for Breakfast to incite even more of that frenzied of torment within her lover. Adding yet another delicious layer she seemed more than content to build. Risque could certainly be patient when she desired to be. However, unfortunate as it was for her, her toying did not last, not with that allure of lust-filled blood to attend to. It all but lingered in the air and wavered her own currently limited control. The mere mortal was practically begging for it, whether he was aware of its potency or not.

She could sense the man's conflict, torn between that fight for survival and that erotic stain his mind seemed ever fixated upon. As though his want far surpassed survival itself. Was she not the epitome of a siren, a femme fatale to no truer extent. It was as if she was forged from the devil's paintbrush itself, even dressed in these jeans. All the way down to her sinful curves, her voice like silken music, her eyes hypnotic as though they could be capable of swallowing one whole into their own private, dark hell. Every part of her seemed nothing short of touchable, her silken porcelain skin, her striking features, the long ample waves of midnight hair that cascaded down her back, one might think it almost to be heavy and yet it was light, moving alluringly with her very movements. She was a wet dream incarnate and how easy it was to wield that power, to torment her attentive lover with every asset she had to offer... and yet how much worse it was... that her mind was so keen on Darcy tonight. One could wonder who was truly the victim. Even despite it being his birthday and the perks it afforded him. That offer to feed opposite to her at the same time was unheard of for her. How she tested her own wavering boundaries by allowing him that fragile offer. It was dangerous... like placing your head below a guillotine blade being held with nothing but worn but determined threads. It was a gamble and in truth, she hardly knew if she'd allow it for longer than a moment. Her own mind still processing that rejection of sorts, only fueling her impossible to read moods.

It was the whimpering muttering of the word 'god'... mixed with that mortal's fear... as the dominant vampires seemed to chat idly over breakfast that stood sandwiched between them. It was almost like a couple enjoying a few moments over the breakfast table, conversing about the weather and other interesting events... with the exception that it was violence and death they so casually spoke about. And that breakfast was a living being with a heartbeat, feelings and ties to this world. Not any longer. How little of that care they had for human life, for any life below themselves. How she enjoyed Darcy's threats and the way it made their food uneasy with fear. Fear and lust peppered the blood to the most enjoyable aftertaste. That image of that threat seemed to overtake her mind, to remove one's spine was no easy feat. How her lover found a way to bring even her darkest of fantasies to life, oddly finding some rare understanding of her. It had been far too long that she saw him accomplish that very thing... the vampire queen voiced it, a hint of longing lost within those words. How that promise was nothing but resolute from her lover's lips against that human skin. It was like verbal foreplay and she had enough. That talk only made her eyes shift with hunger, made her body quiver with that anticipation for that waiting meal. That thought to fuel some twisted fantasy within her mind. It made her hungry for more than just blood. "Qui. I'll expect no less." Her words spoken not much above a breathy whisper, rich with that french accent as her lips found the man's eager throat. Willing to allow this human the gift of being her outlet for now.

Even still with that jumping vein, Darcy awaited her command even though he was practically biting at that very bit. The only way for this to work was for Risque to remain in complete control, how well Darcy fell into that very role she trained him for. It all as if a culmination to this very moment. Had she unintentional crafted the most ideal mate? He rarely ever needed to be reminded of his place. But she was finished with talking, she waited no longer before allowing her fangs to make purchase seeking out and burying within that vein with no hesitation. It would have been easy to selfishly take what she wanted and yet, today was no ordinary day. The she-devil broke from that mortal's neck to invite Darcy to that very feast, with her. It only allowed her that pleasing sensation to bite again...that satisfying sound of skin and tissue breaking beneath those elongating points as if to better infect him with her venom. That command to join was met with no hesitation at all. It was like she could feel Darcy's own body through the mortal who bleated his cries from that brutal bite. If only she could see it, but her senses were overwhelmed by it and the taste of hot blood that slid obediently down her throat. The sound of its deadly force was nothing but enhancing of that very moment. That dominant side of her, pulled that blood greedily to her as if refusing to yield her share. They feasted until there was not a drop left, both vampires having gorged themselves. It felt exquisite, that rush of heat and sustenance. When they were done, every last drop bled dry from his veins until he was a pale grey husk of a man. The pair seemed to revel in that very moment, in perfect sated silence.

Risque was the first to move, as always, she wordlessly closed that distance to take a taste of the blood from her finger that trailed across Darcy's bloody skin that reacted as always to the barest of touches that came from her hand. It was like letting a feral tiger examine your throat. How his skin must have been far more sensitive to her every touch and whim she stole (although could one steal what was already theirs?). Darcy was nothing but obedient and yet she wanted him to feel it. To pay for that rejection, even now. She would not make it easy even though she had agreed to that night months ago. She had not promised to play fair. For a moment, it was like she was going to further tempt him and she knew how to make him break. How she knew he would now if she only allowed her hand to trail lower, to tempt that ever wavering resolve yet again. She had allowed him the greatest honour to feast with her, like equals, to give him a taste of what it was like upon her untouchable throne, simply because she allowed it. It was a dangerous thing to give a man power and expect him to fall in line once more in the next breath was a forever demanding game of tug of war, one she was in complete control over. Tonight, she would allow those lines to be blurred if only to satisfy her own forbidden curiosity, perhaps. Or perhaps it was another desire she possessed, equally buried that not even the hellish queen could determine it herself.

If he was merely a competitive vampire, Darcy would have been mauled, or tortured into submission, or destroyed. It was an ever precarious sword's edge one could so easily slip from. But in that very moment, it was suffocating with something unspoken between the deadly pair. A rush of desire scorched as hotly as the blood within their once icy veins. Her pale fixated eyes followed a droplet of distracting blood that trailed down his body, how she became all too aware of the prominent bulge within his boxers. Good. Her sinful lips curled into a subtle smirk as she trailed her own gaze to meet his own distinctly unique eyes that she had predominantly seen in felines.

A command was spoken before Risque left him standing there wanting... Needing. Sated in that meal and that meal alone and yet parched in another hunger entirely. How she wished for him to ache to watch her in near desperation as she all but slipped away with clouded leopards at her heels... or should she say...boots. Her demands were clear to execute, without her ever-watchful scrutiny as she observed what remained down below within the reconfigured club at Syn. It was no Vegas as she initially planned. It would only make that evening that much more difficult should she actually follow through with that pesky little request. One night would not undo the balance she had created.

Yet, how would it feel to allow him that full rein to truly worship her? Yet... she tested the waters... sharing that meal. It had gone better than expected. Even though she could feel that dominant need to claw at her. Darcy played a game of submissive balance and dominance when she called upon it. Perhaps he could excel in this? Yet like feeding. Sex was an entirely vulnerable sport.

Risque assessed that very space, her mood even while well-fed was precarious at best. Her mind entirely focused on the thoughts that swam dangerously within her own mind. She stood within the middle of the floor, everyone was in their miserable places, a slender finger tapped in consideration upon her hip. It was impossible for the mood to be more lively as it should have been, each and every being had known that they were already losers within Risque's makeshift casino. Vegas would have been better... unsuspecting victims always took the prize. Yet, it was still made up with no less quality.

It was Ian's expression that gave away that Darcy had entered the room. The silent footsteps of his boots upon the smooth, polished floor drew Darcy to her side, Lorelai had already doted a drink upon her that now rested loosely within her other hand. His praise drew her attention, to assess him, he was cleaned and polished in his attire. Not a spec of blood lingered upon him, the man meticulous when it came to her order. He chose leather, he knew her preferences even though she had chosen that outfit. This one looked particularly good on him. The smile he wore exposed his glinting fangs, with no sign of the life he had stolen mere moments before. He could not hide that look of surprise. Risque nothing short of excellent at conducting the element of surprise when she desired it. There was far too much time on her hands, it was a perfect moment to sink her teeth into this very moment. Not a soul, lest they were to be damned to oblivion would not speak a word to Darcy of that plan that they all held some hand in its planning. The presentation was constructed during daylight while the vampires slept. Were's had their uses whilst the vampires were nestled within their beds. It was clear how pleased he was and she knew it well beforehand.

"They were custom for tonight, although... I am sure they can have their uses. They are yours." she stated idly, casually drawing that drink to her lips like it was nothing at all. But truly, she had only set up a carnival of torment to each and every member that worked there, even though they dared not show it.

There was no shortage of victims, even the were's were forced into human form, if only just to crush them. To dominate every last being in that room, save for herself. How tempers were destined to rise, blood, destined to be shed and hell to pay. One way or another. It had been a while since they had a packed club, selfishly, she enjoyed seeing it somewhat busy again even though it was not it did not possess its usual vigour. The lights were dimmed into a warm reddish hue, music playing in the background, that atmosphere alluring and altogether acceptable for what it was.

That plague had sent everything to a screeching halt. She refused to have it permeate their fortress of felines if that virus was transmitted to them, to any of them. She would not have plague running rampant in her club. After all, sickness was the very thing that had almost killed her. The woman revolted by which could not be seen, nor controlled. She would not have it in her domain. Those strict rules she had enforced had to be followed to the letter. His uttered thanks, that appreciation clear and she gestured for him to play. To take his pick amongst the... slaughter. Who would be first?

Ian was the first victim to take the stand and he held an air about him as he might win. Lorelai admitted that she googled how those games worked almost proudly, she felt as if she were a master watching several of those videos. His mind already focused on the task at hand. Ian hardly stood a chance. Both men took their seats and it truly didn't take long for Ian to fall, unsurprisingly. That curse left his lips, any hope of having won that game of chance left the window. Risque watched on with hawk-like scrutiny. "Ian." Her words were nothing but a cutting warning... a manicured brow pitched perfectly skyward, a blatant look of sharp expectation. A look no man was left willing to wager their life on. He had procured a rather expensive bourbon... one he had been holding on to. It meant something to the bartender and yet... besides his watch, it was probably the only thing the man had that Darcy could have wanted. After all, everything he could possibly yearn for came from Risque herself, at her whims or he could afford it, he was the second-highest paid person in Syn besides herself.

It was clear that those rules were clear. Loser.. It would seem would pay a price, a prize, money or possession worth something. In this case, the loser was Ian. He lost rather quickly. Which meant he owed Darcy that bottle. He offered Risque a good-natured smile toward Risque, that was not returned. "Will you at least share Darcy? Come onnn." He asked, his own voice nothing short of a whine and yet entirely playful as though he forgot who he urged the vampire to consider, the man foolishly hopeful even though he was damn reluctant in giving up that expensive bottle. A groan issued and Ian sulked, retreated to the bar with a sad pout on his face.

The true person to beat would be Risque herself. Yet, did anyone ever truly win when it came to Risque? Perhaps, if she willed it so. Why would she do a thing like that?

She did not expect Darcy to turn upon her then so soon, nor...have her play that game of Blackjack. That question of wanting to play hung between them. She preferred to gamble in other ways where those odds relied on her own tampering. Did she want to play? Was that not her line? For a moment she seemed perplexed he had asked and yet... How nervous Lorelai seemed in those fleeting moments of uncertain silence. If Risque got a poor hand there was no telling what she would do. "Oui, I will bite." Risque sidled up toward the table with ease, those words chosen for their double meaning as she placed her drink upon that table before she lowered herself neatly within that cushioned chair beside him. People at least attempted to look busy, talking amongst themselves but Ian gawked. A small group of weres content to play at the roulette table. Could hardly careless, a masculine laugh punctuated the air, he had won.

"Show me how you do it, first." That lightly accented voice rang clear, yet they were no less surpsing. There was no mistaking what she said. It was a rare thing to teach Risque, let alone for her to be open to such teachings. "Show me how to secure my victory in this game of your namesake." She shifted that chair to draw closer to him, her pale eyes honed upon her lover with clear expectation to do just that. As if he could somehow teach her all those fine nuances and years of honed expertise in one game alone! She leaned into that table then, raising a hand toward Lorelai to begin shuffling as she awaited Darcy to begin his lesson. Oh but, if her ears were to pick up on those same lessons. She could not have that. Abruptly she soon shooed away the dealer, Lorelai with a dexterous flick of her hand, as if shooing away an errant fly for a moment to ensure she did not gain any of that lesson for Risques ears only. The woman promptly scurried off obediently, disappointment upon her features and yet not foolhardy enough to disobey. She refused to allow Lorelai to garner that same edge as she with that newfound knowledge. After all, it was her she needed to crush.