Risque preferred the black and white of their world, dealing mostly in certainties. War, despite holding most of the chess pieces, was not certain even though the challenge of it brought on a sickly delight. It was filled with violence and gore. Such things they excelled at. It was a form of domination to crush one's enemy to dust and how she relished in it. They had won, but the events that had occurred were not at all like the wars before it, leading the feline queen to believe it to be... strange. Her body was still buzzing incessantly with unspent power, with unresolved strife she hardly expended. That was why sex was only a natural release and yet, perhaps she sought to soothe something far more potent within herself. She had almost lost him and how some part of her wanted to simply feel him. Not wallowing in the feelings that assaulted her like harsh prickly sandpaper that brushed abrasively inside of her, soothed for a moment of that brief embrace. What was it exactly? She could hardly say, partially cloaked in the denial of her ways. Even though the pair shared that moment of clear intimacy, in that distinctly private moment that spoke more than words ever could. Yet Risque seemed able to exist there just fine, but it was the word that sparked such deeply rooted denial through her core. Yet she seemed unable to escape it. Lacking her usual conviction, unable to express what created an almost vicious reaction inside of her A fragile thing usually expressed with the colliding of bodies. But her lover was broken.. Broken to simply save her. How she wished Cade was not dead to simply dole out her own vengeance. A far more excruciating one than he was gifted. How badly she wanted to make that vampire suffer, only to deny him death when he begged for it. Only to afford it to him when he was... worthy of it.

Tonight left her feeling.... So strange that she did not even believe her own words to their fullest. Nor did she anticipate the sudden jolt of laughter of her mate to fill the bedroom. A sound was pleasant if not so utterly irritating because it was 'at' her. It was rare that they truly laughed in any sense, let alone how it seized Darcy so completely. The she-devil openly stared at her bedridden cowboy she sat next to, feeling the bed shake with his lingering laugh while she watched on in utter bafflement. That boyish smile exposed every one of those wicked teeth within his bestial maw. But he had always been more beast than in the past... but now she found him undeniably.... Cute. How could she find her infuriating mate cute in a time like this? So very vexing as it was.


He was high. She replied rashly. It was the only 'logical' answer for all of this. The drugs from Ezra were surely clouding his mind and yet even on the occasions he had been under the influence, she could see the difference. Risque demanded he explain himself, failing to see his understanding as the cowboy sank back into the embrace of his pillows, unable to keep his form up, the laughter expending the last of his energy. Perhaps she should call Ezra back again.

Their hands untwined too, as that new pressing concern fell to the forefront, her gaze narrowed upon him as he elaborated. Love. He had used the term far more frequently lately than ever before. Although, it was the claim that he somehow stole from her words that she would die for him... She huffed out that clearly disgruntled sound that slipped free from her lips at her emboldened lover. That was not what she said! She was merely protecting him because he was hers. Yet it was far more complex than even that, though she refused to say it. Refused to acknowledge it out loud for whatever reason. There was more to it. Always more.. yet... she said the words because it felt solid. Her own personal anchor of denial that she could accept. She would fight for him! She said nothing about death. How Risque was far from being dumb and yet she could not seem to relent. Even Darcy himself sensed that losing battle, simply giving in with a nod and appeasing words that she was right. How usually those words would have been enough to appease her... This time it was not. How she knew better now when he sought to appease and when it was real! How quickly he seemed to feed into the denial as if to prevent a bomb from misfiring. It didn't matter if she said the words or not. Darcy said he knew. Her mind still turned with those words within her mind, the inner sensations of war and this topic made her..... Nothing short of volatile. It was a perfect storm that built inside of her.

It was enough. It had to be enough for that moment.

How it was almost like she preferred to stick to what they knew and yet the thing about denial was, you could never truly escape its reckoning to rip away the smoke concealing one's metaphorical eyes. That war had been a glorious disaster. They won and yet how close they were to losing everything. Her mood darkened, she was hardly one to wallow. They had 'won' on paper, it was an indisputable victory and yet her mind still persisted in a battle. It could not comprehend love... least of all now when she was as volatile as a nuclear warhead.

But that possession still coiled and surged deeper than it ever had. If they were not alone, it would have created far more casualties than what was waiting in the parking lot of Syn that waited for the sun to finish the process come dawn.

All those unsavoury sensations clawed at her like a demon cat from hell that lived inside of her and fought its way out in the form of a... flare of her notorious temper.

It was then that she began to act imprudently. Claiming that Darcy was high. Was that even entirely true? At that moment he seemed painfully lucid and she was wearing thinner by the moment. Fighting him in this... was becoming something harder and harder to do. Could he see those cracks? See how flimsy her arguments truly were?

With an abruptness, the she-devil drew to her feet, mind and body buzzing with a need for release, to move. She tugged at those blankets to cover him entirely, to hide him from view. The act was entirely fatuous in so many ways and yet that release needed to take place somewhere. Like covering him in blankets was somehow enough to shut him out, to conceal the truth. Even she knew that it was not possible. But at the moment, it felt too satisfying.

Now was not the time for incomprehensible emotions. Now was the time to strip herself bare of the evidence of that night and do the only logical thing when she wished to drown that discord out. Wine. Or something better. If Darcy was high, so should she be. Nothing sounded better to her. Darcy's voice called out from the bed, claiming that he could at least let him watch as she began.. She hissed as she ripped the remains of that leather from her figure, as she kicked off one boot... sending it flying and hitting the wall with a thud. "You want to watch? No one is stopping you!" She replied sharply, accented with the sound of her second boot hitting the floor with a thud and scattered across the wooden floor, uncaring she was making a mess. How strict she had been about clothes on the floor and tonight she hardly paid any of her own rules any heed.

Maybe she could make an example with one of the quarrelling vampires outside that door. They were too close for comfort. She would do it in the nude, she hardly cared! She paused so suddenly as if the idea of it seemed enjoyable. Yet that would require leaving her mate and in his condition.... She refused to leave him vulnerable to threats. 'No' was the definitive answer in her mind. Her stark naked, war-kissed form disappeared into the closet, allowing him a view of her perfect backside, allowing the uncovered cowboy a view even if it was not for long.

Risque emerged from the walk-in wearing his shirt, her lithe form near swimming in it as it fell down to kiss her outer thighs. It was far looser than anything she ever wore, even in her most casual of nightwear. She didn't dare let her eyes drift to look at him and yet how she knew he was watching from the bed. Practically immobile.

There was any number of things she could have done when he was immobile that came to mind. Some she was determined to explore once they could. But for now, she was a storm with skin.

She stormed to that cabinet to steal that bottle for herself, popping the cork with near record time as she drank clean from the bottle's mouth. How it felt like it was alive upon her very tongue. That distinct zing of fae blood wine danced within her mouth causing her to let out a hum of enjoyment from within her throat. It coated her in that unique soothing balm that bled through her from head to toe.

Yes, this was exactly what she needed to take the edge off when other means were unavailable.

Returning to the bed with the bottle within her grip, wearing that oversized t-shirt that fell to her thighs, there was no time for a proper shower, not when she could not take him with her. She refused to leave him, out of reach. At that moment, she looked like an image of nothing she was and yet she felt in that very moment. How aware of her lover she was as he watched her every last movement. He was always aware of her. The scent of the blood likely not doing any favours to her starving mate. That admittance that she was not sharing was petty. He needed this as much as she did and yet she was clinging to some notion that had long since been buried and dead. He taunted her with his earlier words and how she was doing the same to him now.

But Darcy navigated her fluctuating moods better than anyone else, even now. Even with that hunger gripping him. His words shattered the brittle ice just enough that most could never come close. He was difficult to remain the source of her ire for long when he was mostly undeserving of it. His early actions during that war... were still displeasing and yet how everything else seemed to overshadow even that. Not when that war and possibly her very life... was ensured by her ravager tonight.

How her mate did not stay quiet long. Claiming he was sharing his shirt with her and that she should share that drink, that one thing equated to the other. He was figuratively reaching so painfully far. She took another mouthful, the beverage sloshing in the bottle as she tipped it back upright again after savouring yet another mouthful of the perfect blend of wine and fae blood. This vintage had to be one of her favourites. "Oh, am I?" She cooed, her voice smooth as silk on naked flesh as she looked down at the shirt she wore. With a cowboy riding that bucking horse with the words 'ride 'em cowboy'. It was so obviously not hers. There was an error in the text. Should it not be 'Ride me, cowboy? She thought with a frown, before declaring. "I am not ready to share." She decided that was enough, barely parting from that bottle she held so very close. That seemed to be the only tether that helped her vacillating mood. Silence then trickled in and settled as she nursed that bottle and with every torturous sip that served to soothe those irritating barbs that had once set her on a deadly edge that mirrored the sharpness of her fangs. All why simultaneously driving her lover off the wall.

How silly. She thought as an idea popped into her mind from earlier. Maybe Darcy was right. Maybe she was being 'funny'. Everything was starting to seem that way. She was funny. He was funny. This bed was funny. Emotions were funny. Maybe the drink was working. Yet she hardly let it show as the funniness hardly caused her to laugh. As it caused her to merely focus on it so hard that she might be able to poke holes in it. Instead, she uttered that declaration that she missed the days when they would fuck after a battle in the blood of their enemies. She was always restless after a battle was won. No matter how exhausted or hungry... she was always restless after a battle. Tonight had been no different.

Darcy admitted that it was his favourite part of war. Hm. She never quite thought of it and yet.... While war had many benefits and everything else it brought along with it. That sex was explosive. A thoughtful hum of approval left her lips as the tension seeped away from her, her face smoothing, her shoulders relaxing. "Mine too. Victory is like..... an aphrodisiac, oui?" She admitted the tone of her voice was like she was in a reverie.

Yet Darcy's southern drawl rose once more, this time causing those pale blue eyes to shift towards him since the first time she sought to cover him with blankets. She caught the lingering mismatched stare of her lover that was so uniquely his. Her ravager looked so comfortable in the embrace of those pillows that supported his figure at least until the drugs wore off. They could still make out in the blood of their enemies. He claimed. His own version of denial in this amusing to her. "Oh, is that so?" Risque mused as he continued, mentioning the first time they were together. That he could just lay there and she could do as she pleased and order him around. Those words caused her lips to part and twitch at the corner into almost a full-blown smile. All before interest peeked out from her pale, piercing stare. She huffed out a single syllable of a laugh at the mention that she could tell him he was doing it wrong. Well, he was not wrong about that. It was especially back then. How he had grown as a lover, learning to pleasure her as she pleased. Knowing her body better than any other male, even though she still appreciated the beast that still remained inside of him. After all, he was many things. Yet even still, she enjoyed being the boss. After all, it was one of the many certainties that allowed them to exist as they did.

"That does sound appealing." She admitted as the she-devil recollected that very night.. and those wonderfully wild nights that followed it. Those were fond memories. Primal. Explosive. The kind of sex they often had after a battle was won. Yet, it would seem Darcy was also keen on speaking in denials. How his body was in no shape to handle her ravaging him in any capacity. Not as she was meant to. It was a shame. They were so good at that part and that wine made her feel so nice. She might have even let him fuck her to his content. Or maybe she could relish in him just like she partook in that fae blood. Torturously slow and savouring.

He insisted that he would be 'okay' with her ravishing him. Like that experience was ever just okay. " Okay? When do we ever do just okay? Honestly, Dar.." She shook her head as she chided lightly, as if just 'okay' summed up any of their experiences. But how he hardly appeared to forget that bottle in her hand. As he encouraged her. Saying he can keep that bottle safe and she could have him. But safe from who exactly? She was quite certain that the bottle was hardly safe from him. She took another drink, this time letting it linger, her gaze trained on him the entire time.

"Who does this need protecting from?" She questioned doubtfully, although there were amused notes within them as she lifted up the bottle in her grasp for show. Let alone that it was Darcy who actually was in no shape to protect anything. He needed to be protected.

But her lover hardly stopped there. The man was on a roll. That claim she should wear his shirts more often and the fantasy of her wearing those cowboy boots she knew he liked..with that strappy lingerie he could not resist. She knew just the one he was referring to. Her cowboy was full of suggestions tonight.

"Tomorrow after Ezra's follow-up and we have bathed. I will wear it. We are trapped in this room for a while. There are certainly many, many ways we can pass the time.. And many ways in which I might entertain myself." Perhaps she could start that now.

"Let's... try something..." How she knew that was certain to get his attention.

The feline queen shifted briefly, only to place the bottle onto the solid wood nightside table. She eyed her lover, considering something. His words perhaps. Her own thoughts folded upon itself as she drew in closer, sinuously moving until she ended up with her straddling his hips. Not quite putting her weight upon him, she leaned in like a cat ready to pounce, a subtle arch of her back as he was still somewhat propped up. But she was in complete control. Even when she knew he was broken and couldn't truly handle the coupling she wished to engage in. While it might have been seen as her initiating that very thing, perhaps this one time, she simply demanded a kiss. One that expressed what words seemed to continually escape her.

She allowed herself to press her still warm from feeding, lush lips to his, before urging it to deepen as she used her own strength to keep from settling upon him completely. Her arms propped her body as the front of that shirt spilt downward from gravity. She was well balanced and yet... simultaneously caging him in. Like he could somehow slip away and she refused to let him. She put more into that kiss than she ever had before.

It was different, a far more controlled passion that they could have easily drowned within... her body awakening and craving friction but those sheets existed between them and there was no world that he could handle her weight and movement at the same time in the condition he was in. That kiss was more than just hunger, it had... some emotion and everything she intended to do to him when he could handle it. She gave into that moment as if to ensure he was still here.. How easy it could have been to take him. To ravage him as he mentioned. To claim him all over again like some instinctual need within her desired.

She let a fingertip run along his sharp, chiselled jaw, purposefully, letting it trail across his muscular body, feeling the soft texture of his smooth skin over, honed hardened muscle. He had the body of a warrior. She might have just been a moment away from breathless... even when a vampire needed no breath.

How strangely foreign a feeling and yet she lingered in it. Relished in it for a moment longer before that purposeful touch continued before it moved down, trailing his cool to the touch, smooth skin pulling the cover away just enough to reveal his wound. She had examined all of his wounds with a morbid curiosity before. Yet how might this one look if she plucked at those stitches and yet.. That was far from her mind. She would rather keep him in one piece tonight. The faster he mended all that Cade had done the better. But she broke that kiss just to prove a point. To him. To herself. Her pale eyes bore into him.

Even though she badly desired to be selfish... To take more than he could truly give at that moment. She truly considered all the ways she could make this predicament work. But she waited for that wince she pulled him from as her finger pressed pointedly near the stitched wound to make a point to herself and him. She pulled away, releasing the pressure with a single look that said... 'see?'. A moment later she was gone and settled back into the bed beside him, leaning back into her own pillows with a sigh on her lips.

"Another night, Dar, and I will ravage you. Properly." She declared. He was weak and blood deprived and yet there was a promise in her words as she rolled to reach and pluck that bottle from the nightstand to draw in one last mouthful before wordlessly passing it to him.

"You can.... Protect it now.." How easily both of them knew what that meant and yet there was a little left in that bottle reserved for him. She hardly knew if she was breaking Ezra's word and yet she hardly cared. He said nothing about fae blood and wine... and as far as Risque was concerned, it was.... Medicine.

Just as she was about to part her lips to say something else, his name hanging upon her lips which tasted of him before the sound of a loud, obvious, obnoxious thud that saw Risque's head shoot toward the direction of that noise, fangs flashing. Ah, was that the first contender? Or perhaps the annoying sound of them scrambling for that chance to climb a rank and into a position she would never allow them to claim. Not while he was under her protection. She would do what true mates did and protect what was hers.

"If they get any closer, I will need to deal with them."