on a steel horse I ride

Risque seemed to mount that gelding with relative ease, settling herself in the saddle but a moment later as Darcy offered some insight into her mount. The animals breeding, he suspected, mattered little to his mistress and yet there was value in horseflesh. Even if Risque was not often inclined to consider it. His words seemed to spur her interest all the same, the she-devil pondering those offered thoughts before insisting that, if nothing else, those horses were not 'mongrels' of their breed. Darcy's head nodded in assurance, his mismatched gaze shifting to eye the blue roan gelding once more before meeting Risque's own eyes.

"Das right. Day well-bred, real good lines. Got papers an all."

There was an undeniable pride, of sorts, within the vampire cowboys words. After all, building a breeding herd was no small feat- let alone one that produced a good style of horse. A style of horse that was in demand. That sold well. That brought outside mares into his stallions. That kind of thing took years to build- but it brought in money. Good money. Along with raising the ranches name, its reputation within the west. The very kind of thing his own Father never managed to do and oh, how Darcy relished in succeeding where his own sire had failed so miserably. As if every success was a veritable nail in the man's long buried coffin by the son he seemed to have outright resented. Darcy's tongue shifted to toy with the tip of a pointed fang in consideration, those near dangerous thoughts momentarily waylaid by Risque's curiosity of those reins and the one-handed riding their mounts had been taught to respond to. How readily his mate seemed to grasp the concept, her delicate fingers moving to mimic his own hold on the reins before he offered the turning demonstrations- an act Risque deemed simple enough as she commanded Denim around a long-since fallen tree. The gelding, as Darcy anticipated, was nothing short of responsive. The lightest of commands provoking a practiced obedience. The very kind Risque so readily relished and Darcy, in turn, had long since learned to offer himself. Darcy's own heels pressed to the side of his horse, the grullo loping forward to find his place beside Denim, his ears pricked forward in a clear curiosity and willingness to go forward. A good trait in a horse- even if Seth was prone to irritability at times. What good man wasn't? It was his own tease of the weakness of the French horses however that seemed to provoke a response from his mate as Risque insisted on the skill of the Camargue. The very name of that breed prompted a near blank look from the cowboy as Risque lamented their gray coloring. His own Quarter Horses, if nothing else, were more handsome creatures- obedient in turn.

"I dun know what a Cam...ar...ga...is. Reckon day can't be dat good dough or we'd 'ave 'em 'ere."

Darcy's shoulders lifted in a loose shrug, his tongue twisting over that effort to pronounce that breeds name, his drawled words lacking the delicate French accent of his mates own. That breed name all but butchered beneath his own accent as his features frowned ina faint glimpse of frustration at those French lilts all the same. The French, he was certain, were forever naming things in a far more complicated way then they needed. Besides, what use was a horse that was always gray? If it truly was a good cow pony then we hadn't anyone brought them to America? Risque, in turn, seemed equally assured of France's superiority in this as her feminine features turned to meet his own. Such an argument need be settled, she assured him. In France.

"Yar want me ta go ta France to look at a 'orse?."

Risque had never before held interest in any trips to assess cattle or horses or livestock- especially not abroad and yet how readily that southern vampire was willing to seize upon her sudden intrigue. Even if it were to win a bet of sorts. Darcy inclined to nod a moment later.

"Reckon I can do dat for ya."

There was nothing superior to the American Quarter Horse, of that he was sure. The southern cowboy hardly concerned for these 'Car...mar...gays' or whatever the hell she had called them. Risque was hardly a judge of horses, after all, this sure to be an easy bet to win. The very thought prompted a simper to his lips even if he hardly dared let it linger for now. After all, Risque seemed.....equally confident in turn. The man having learned long ago not to doubt his lover- even in matters she seemed to hold little interest in upon the surface. Hmmm. perhaps he needed....some degree of caution all the same. He'd google that horse later tonight. Darcy moved to press his hells to Seth once more, coaxing the stallion to step further ahead and lead the way up the trail he had ridden a thousand times before as they climbed upward and toward the ridge that overlooked the vast majority of the ranch. The night air was cold, clear and entirely...peaceful. A distinct rarity from the city they called home and the nightclubs in which they tended to linger. The ranch was a distinctly far cry from the halls of Syn. The southern cowboy- away from those lights and sounds and that near constant need to remind those damn fools around him of their place in life- was far more....relaxed. Darcy simply inclined to a calmness that so often eluded him. His very figure seemed to lose its hard edges as he pulled his horse to a stop atop that ridge. The valleys and rivers and fields below them stretched out for miles in the moonlight. Out here there was no dance floor or thrum of the bass or press of any other men into his territory. The simple essence of space so clearly agreed with the man. Darcy, at last, so entirely within his element as he coaxed his mate to look out at that view, to see just how far those lands stretched. To see what he had gathered for them. Land, after all, was power. Land was wealth. Both in his day and her own.

Risque's near hypnotic blue gaze trailed out to follow Darcy's hand as he gestured to those features and the cattle below. The vampiric queen so readily seemed to consider what she was offered and just how Darcy had come to claim it. Her words, when they came, were a murmur of feminine perfection. Praise for his efforts. For removing the elderly and the infirm for what they no longer had the strength or the right to maintain. Her very words prompted a flicker of a simper to his lips. Darcy inclined to relish that praise- simple as it was. How thoroughly he adored to please her. To find her satisfied with what he offered. His insistence that this ranch was now the largest in the area seemed to provoke further thought from his lover before she queried his intention for it. Darcy's head nodded towards those pastures below and the forest pines that clipped its border, his hand resting on the pommel of the saddle as his own mismatched gaze swept over the earth below.

"Expand me 'erd. I ain't breedin' too many right now, I been buyin' in feeder cattle and finishin' 'em off and sellin' 'em but wit more land means i can run more 'ead. Breed more and more of me own cattle. Start makin' a name for 'em. Make people want 'em. Den I sell 'em for even more."

There was money in well-bred cattle. His ranch was finally big enough to facilitate starting his own lines. His own proper breeding. A more exclusive product that came at a more exclusive price. Darcy moved to gesture towards some of those cattle then- the vampire offering that explanation of what they were for, their breeding, the value of beef and why he'd chosen to make something of them. Risque, he knew, cared little for cattle or talk of them and yet his mistress understood money. She understood wealth. She would understand the value in the animals even if she cared little for their species as a whole. It was that near subtle query on whether or not she liked what he had created for them that seemed to prompt the vampiric queen to turn within her saddle- the full weight of her gaze resting upon him then. Darcy was so hardly oblivious to the careful choice to his own words. To the true depth of their implication and what existed within them. Risque had created an empire within the city. A source of unending wealth. It was...improper for him to offer anything less. To meet her on uneven ground. If he was to be her mate then it was only fair he rivaled that wealth-offered his own territory for her to share as he shared hers. A true combination of assets, of territories. Sharing what was his....with the singular and only woman he loved. It was a man's duty, after all, to provide- even if Risques own wealth so hardly required any provision on his part. Those near age old notions, to some extent, still resided within the man. A desire to prove himself worthy of all she had to offer-by offering to share in turn. That ranch was for them. Together. A lucrative business designed to strengthen Risque's own and further expand their joint empire from city to country. Between them both they would have a veritable stranglehold on a portion of the state's economy. Ah- and his father had said no good would ever come from book-learning and numbers. How readily Daryc understood wealth- and how to gain it.

The vampire mismatched gaze shifted back to eye those cattle in the gloom as Risque seemed to further contemplate that offering. Her words, when they came were an utterance of a query. As if she sought to confirm what he offered. Darcy's head nodded. His gaze shifted to her own once more, thos calculating, mismatched eyes seeking her own, reading every line within ehr features, every movement of her lip- in some effort to deduce whether or not she took satisfaction in that offer. Perhaps- it was not enough. That singular thought settled with discontent in the cowboys mind, Darcy beginning to consider a further expansion of that empire of land and beast when that singular French word parted the vampiric queens lips. Those French lyrics were hardly his own strength, Daryc long ago having given up any true attempt to master that language and yet-several of those phrases persisted within his own thoughts. Risque content to utter then more frequently until, over time, the Ravager had simply come to deduce their meaning. Inoui. Extraordinary.

How readily that singular uttered word seemed to prompt the cowboy to sit a little taller within his saddle. Even after a century at her side Darcy still sought to please her. Her praise a sweet reward. An utterance of sinful perfection. His accomplishments pleased her this night, more so, they honored her as she deserved to be honored. A goddess come to life. Feminine perfection. A veritable gift upon that very earth he offered her.

"Yar deserve even more, darlin'. I'll git it for ya too. Dis is jus a start."

Those very words were nothing short of a promise. An oath. He would assure she had all she desired and more. It would take even more land, consume it like a vampiric plague and raise it once more in her name. He would be the very mate she deserved. He would be....everything his own father had failed to be to his mother. A proper man. Risque's gaze seemed to shift then, Darcy distinctly aware of her changing mood once more as she insisted there was a manner of further seriousness to discuss. Darcy own's gaze shifted, meeting the hypnotic blue of her own, affording his mate to entirety of his attention. Shedesired to explore the perks of their bone, it seemed,her hand gesturing to the darkened land though her gaze never left his own. How readily Darcy's own mind relished those words, a veritable ace within his groin giving way to those far more carnal thoughts. He had hardly planned for such things here and now and yet atop that darkened ridge and beneath that rising moon there was surely time to indulge in his lover. To relish her feminine figure. To worship her in the most primal of ways. His thoughts, perhaps, inclined to drift in a distinct direction- before she insisted she required a display....on horseback. A demonstration of his credentials as the very cowboy he was. A show she did not intend to be denied. That singular look of surprise seemed to flicker within the Ravagers features before his head nodded once more.

"Reckon I can do some fancy ridin' for ya. Yar got summthin' in mind yar wanna see?"

Risque, despite herself, had watched more than one of those western films he himself enjoyed. The vampiric Queen often content to dismiss them entirely and yet he had seen her from the corner of his gaze watching those films with a slither of intrigue. It was merely what she desired to see from him that prompted that very question. The cowboy was certain that this was surely what she desired. An almost...innocent part of the man distinctly determined to show off for his lover in whatever way she deemed most impressive. That very desire almost...instinctive for any man.

"We got a bit more ta see dis way first."

Darcy moved to press the reins to Seth's neck, the stallion swinging around easily to lead the way down the other side of the ridge, the equine picking his way with sure footed ease over that loose shale and crumbling rock before descending down into the forest once more. Those shafts of moonlight easily speared through the bracken above, casting filtered light into the darkness below. Enough to afford Seth an easy path to see by, Darcy's own night vision, just like Risque's, entirely adapted to seeing clearly within that gloom as those horses kept pace beside each other once more. Darcy was determined to show his mate the rest of what he had gathered for them over the years. Those trees eventually thinned, Darcy pausing upon the very edge of that treeline. Seth halting obediently beneath him as the cowboy moved to gesture out across that meadow to multitude of horses that grazed in the moonlight, there coats various shadows of dark in the gloom. Save for several grays and roans who stood out far more then their counterparts. The majority of those mares had foals at foot. Their figures far smaller in the night. Darcy's mismatched gaze shifted toward his mate once more, eyeing her features as she looked out over that pasture in turn.

"I know 'orses ain't yar ting neither but dese is part of what I been workin' on. All of dem purebred Quarter 'orses. Nearly all of dem foals is from Set. I sold nine of 'em last season. Got more den a million for sellin' 'em and a bunch of dem is winning futurity dis year at da nationals. Means I can sell dese foals for even more. People satartin' to want 'orses bred 'ere real bad like. Beef prices move up and down, dats jus day way of it- but 'orses is always good money when day bred right and I been workin at dese lines a long time. Even started putin' a little bit of black colour in dem- I know 'ow you fancy dat shade."

Darcy moved to gesture toward a black filly several paces away, the foal inky in the darkness and free of any white markings. A true black and worth her weight in gold for it.

"I named a bunch after ya too."

Darcy

I'm wanted, Dead or Alive