out for blood
she's somethin' so cold-blooded with
a deep killer instinct
How cautious Darcy was being.. Even in that mock round to allow her to win. She noticed he didn't take another card when he easily could have. If playing against her, would he let her win? Or would he take his chances in seeing how she handled that loss. It could easily go one of many ways with her. After all, did she have any intention of winning at all? At least in this? There was far too much at stake her, far too many complex nuances that were obviously entering unchartered waters. Risque eyed him, he didn't intend to make himself lesser when the match truly mattered, would he?
Risque hardly missed the way he didn't place that final card down for himself. He responded in a dismissive fashion, choosing to play it off logically as if there wasn't any need for a true round. How cautious of him.. What was a proper mock round if he didn't fulfill his own hand? She allowed that topic to slide for now especially when Ian interjected like his opinion was required or meant something. His irritating voice interrupting rudely. Disrespect she would see did not go unpunished. He had forgotten himself in the wreckage of his own loss. Like his purpose here was meant for him. Who did he think he was? The man forgot his place. He should be licking their boots in worship that his bottle was the only thing he lost. Did he not know that things could be so much worse for him? Did she need to remind them all of this very lesson. How she would take great pleasure in it all the same. A reminder that it was pleasure to be tread upon by those whose rank so far above him. Darcy was quick to snap at the man, to put him back in the bartender's rightful place. How quickly he realized his mistake... submitting simply to the cowboy the moment he realized he stepped out of line. Perhaps it was the way Risque turned to eye the man, shifting in that chair to slice him that warning look. It took so little to feed him to the wrath of the succubus at his side. They were easy to toy with like puppets. She hardly need to stood for that hot water to boil around him all while Risque was the epitome of ease. She could kill him with just as much ease. She had killed men for less. Yet that would require far too much time and attention Risque hardly wished to spare toward him. No, her predatory attention remained somehow fixed upon her lover who seemed to perplex her with his utter fascination with the boots that adorned her feet. In the very corner of her eye she could see Darcy's attention hardly lingered upon the bartender but outwardly stared at the shoes upon her feet. Of all the shoes she owned, this one prompted the most reaction. How..
Ian brought it onto himself. The fool. The pair soon erupted in a heated squabble, Ian forced to bathe in his prickling embarrassment that would devour him whole.
Darcy hardly wished to focus on the lesser vampires, coaxing her own attention back toward himself. After all, he was the birthday boy and if anyone.. He was the worthy one to ensnare the focus of her attention in its entirety.. She shifted her form back towards the table before them.
He summoned a were-cat from the table beside them. After all, every being in that room was nothing but entertainment for them to do as they wish. Their whole purpose of their presence tonight was to serve.. Then again, that was every night.. Fear radiated from him and yet he didn't dare to avoid his fate. He began to deal as he was summoned to do so, his hands trembling as he did as he was told, he remained quiet. He may have been a lion and the so called "king" of the felines and yet he acted nothing like it. Darcy rose to appear behind her, the only man in that room she'd allow to invade her space without being the one to initiate it. As her mate, Darcy was afforded with much more leniency than any other, should her mood permit it.
He lowered behind her, pressing his lips close to her ear. His presence distracting as he began to weave a a far more personalized game of sorts to appease her. Darcy knew her perhaps better than any living being. He manipulated that very game to suit her. What a delicate balance her cowboy moved through, even amongst the figurative minefield that one so often had to navigate through.. Suddenly... that game she had allowed him to teach her became far more enjoyable as her cowboy offered her something far more appealing. She listened, intently to his words her tongue traced her upper lip in anticipation. Which only strove to put him in her favour.. The rejection from earlier forgotten for now. How it could be near disastrous to engage in any game with her. That poor lion male was evidence of it. His face paled like a sheet, she could scent his fear like an appetizing perfume upon the air only caused her lips to curl into a self satisfied faint upward curl of her lips. Darcy was right, his heartbeat was an obvious tell. As long as you could read through his already existing anxiety at being under Risque's direct scrutiny. Victory, at least this time was easily secured. It was easy to demand what she wanted from the man.
Afterall, she had envisioned a new blade for herself. The sentence was spoken within the dark, like Risque herself was his executioner. How easy it would have been to claim her prize here and now. To make a spectacle of it. How messy it would be. Risque would have relished in it.. On second thought, why allow Ruben the satisfaction that was hers to have. Flippant as always.. Just as the lion thought he knew what was coming. "On second thought.. Let Ruben find you a room down stairs.. I will claim my prize myself when I am ready.." Her words slipped from her tongue like deceptive silk as she watched him with impassive eyes with just a glint of amusement like he was suddenly a new toy.. Just how fast she could change her mind. No one dared to contend to it. There was something strikingly deadly within her words. A promise. Who knew when that would be. Several nights from now? Several hours? The wait for what was to come.. Seemed almost worse. Yet... he did nothing to truly spark her ire today... yet even still.. Who said she had to play fair, not did Risque ever forget. "Remove yourself. Go."That command clear in her tone, the lion knew better to plead now.. He simply turned upon his heel like a dog with his tail between his legs. One less victim remained.
He could wait.. Darcy on the other hand.. She was far from through with him. She rose, moved toward her cowboy in a predatory, felinesque gait. She prowled, each step distinct and sure as she closed the distance that existed within her lover. There was a dreadfully sinful look within her pale sadistic eyes, her appetite for torture wetted by her lions fate. Darcy didn't dare to move as if frozen in place even though his gaze simply could not help but drink her figure in. That want still lingered within his mismatched eyes. Exactly how she left him. He was pleasing tonight, especially so.. That attraction was evident as she closed that space.. Her hand moved to cup him through his pants. His body had been nothing but tormented with desire and yet no release from it. That sweet sound escaped him..
She toys with him like only she could. Her words are like riddles.. He could only guess at the angle she's playing at, completely uncertain to him. Perhaps even to herself. It hardly mattered if others saw.
The irony was not lost on her.. A gamble within a gamble. How those sacherine words all but purred into his ear, how she stitched a perfect little snare for him to catch himself within. Perhaps. Or maybe she only sought to push him that much more. The true question was.. Just how strong was Darcy's resolve. He did possess conditioning over the years and there was far more on the line now. After all, it was not every day he was afforded that control. Even now with him in the palm of her land, literally and figuratively. She almost uttered that singular word of a request.
Or perhaps she should try something a little more even. Have those odds a 50/50 split. She could practically see those gears within his mind beginning to shift and churn, tasting her very words. Although his body reacted to her own, Darcy was no weak willed man tonight. Ah, he must be truly set on his prize. The price was steep after all. It was her, in anyway he wanted... so long as the feline queen could tolerate it. To allow him to have her in any way he pleased. How? Over the last few days she humoured herself with the thought of it... Just what he might do with that control she had kept so firmly to herself. He was wise to have asked her on foreign soil.. Yet... what harm would come out of it.
How that question hung as thickly within that air as his southern drawl.
"I am.. Haven't you ever thought of it?" She rose her dark slender brow upward. "Don't you want to play with me? Afraid I won't play fair?" Her hypnotic gaze never left his own, even as he idly reached for the card on the table to shuffle as if his mind was already made up. He didn't dare drop one card, no he was never sloppy with anything unless it bled. But still he hesitates. That room had fallen deathly silent even with the music playing. Not even the weres spoke, worried of their own fate should things go sideways, worried for their own wellbeing at being summoned next or simply becoming collateral damage.Worried more for their own wellbeing at being summoned next.
Risque's gaze remained upon the card wielding cowboy. The gears within his mind were churning, assessing all possible outcomes. "A request of my own." It was infuriating she knew, answering his question without a real answer. She cast him a peculiar look. Of course she knew she could just take what she wanted. She refused to elaborate willingly. How she could take it all away in an instant.. "Go on.. There is nothing to consider. Deal me in Blackjack.. The night isn't getting any younger and I have yet to show you your other two gifts." She gestured toward the table before her.. Her lips curled just slightly so at the edges into a sinful smile.
"You haven't gone all soft have you? I hope not." Her gaze flashed with a look near hungry.. With more than one meaning hanging in the air.
you better run
the full moon's rising.