There were few things in life that ever truly seemed to shock his lover. Risque so hardly the sort of woman inclined to surprise. She had seen enough of the world, he suspected, to epect little from it and yet his attempts to explain how those Southern vampires had lived on limited rescources and with limited prey and shelter from that fucking sun seemed to coax some measure of horror from her. That some vampires were near forced to perpetually starve, for want off more living beings to feed upon, seemed readily abhorrent to her. Darcy not uninclined to admit that he had come to think the same. The vampiric cowboy was content to look upon his past life with at least some measure of scorn. His early days as a vampire, with Beau, had been difficult. Hunger had gnawed at him constantly. His Maker had been too much of a juvenile himself to afford Darcy any real direction and he had soon seen through any ruse of leadership the other man had attempted to convey over him. They had parted ways early. That alone having proven a pivotal choice. Darcy had been convinced he could do better alone and he had not been wrong. Had he not left Beau when he did he would hardly have found Risque amongst the bloodied gore of that battlefield several months later. That very air of power she held, that majesty, an alluring beacon that had hardly lessened over time. It was beside her that he had finally been....sated. In far more ways than one. It was his lovers very query on those Hunters that broke the haze off his own thoughts then as they sped down that ever-degrading dirt road. Darcy offering a simple shake of his head.
"'Unter's were pretty rare out 'ere. Day only ever showed up if any coven got too big an started killin to much. 'Unters sun worry bout dem country folk as much and back den, wit da war on da didn't 'ave time ta be worrin' bout farmers gettin mauled."
Risque seemed to muse upon the very notion that he himself had only moments ago considered. The raven-haired woman musing those very thoughts aloud as she considered what might have become of him had they never met, had she never plucked him from the mud and blood and dirt of that festering wasteland the South had been at the height of the war. He'd learned to care for himself to an extent by then. He'd made his way in the world, made a name for himself- to much of a name. How long would it really have been before those Hunters came a calling? Those rumours of that ghostly gambler cheating soldiers out of their lives had spread like wildfire. They'd have hunted him down eventually, if he'd stayed. Risque's voice broke that momentary silence once more, his blue gaze turned sharply upon him then as she posed a far more intriguing question on just how it felt to dominante a room, to be the most powerful being within in, outside of herself, to stand atop that metaphorical totem pole of vampiric society. Darcy, this time, unable to prevent that curve upward of his lip, that very gesture displaying a singular sharp fang. The man content to offer that honest answer as was so often the case with his Mistress.
"It's addictive. I like da feelin'. I like havin' it all da time, in any room. I like getting rid of tings that dun make me 'appy. An idiots dun make me 'appy."
That brief flicker of amusement found his features even despite his poor mood. Darcy so hardly ashamed to admit he took a certain pleasure in weeding out the weak, in eliminating those he found displeasing and the ner....addiction he had to that very sensation of power. His own- and the force the emanated from Risque herself. After all, it had been that very force that had drawn him to her to begin with. That addiction to it, to her, having only grown over time until that infatuation had become his very obsession. That road hardly became any smoother the further they travelled. Each passing mile only further pressing upon Darcy's own nerves until the vampires features were near stormy with irritation. An irritation that was onyl further increased by those flashing lights and a fucking policeman. That night, it seemed, destined to take a decidedly dangerous turn from the moment Clay appeared. Risque's own hunger and irritation seemed to flee in near the same moment as Clay called him by name. His true name. Darcy's efforts to sink further into that seat so readily noted and appraised by his mate and yet, as was her way, she seemed to find a distinct ...pleasure in plucking at those ever delicate strings of his temper, his patience- and his clear disdain for this entire evening. He had come so close, so painfully fucking close to making it out of this shit hole of a town and here was Clay- to ruin it all entirely.
As bold as he was good-natured the vampiric policeman all but thrust his hand out toward Risque in an effort to shake it. Risque, as Darcy had near anticipated, made every effort to bat his hand away like the annoyance it was. The very notion that she had done little more then bat it so giving away her apparent shift in mood. One that hardly brought Darcy any pleasure if only for his own silent assurance her pleasure came from his own clear disdain and the manner she intended to seize upon it like a predator sensing blood. Clay's yabbering hardly ceased even despite having his hand all but brushed away. Risque's words held a near playful tone and yet those lyrics that so interwove those words assured him readily her sentence was no game. Clay, for his part, seemed oblivious as he laughed. Naww she a funny one, Darc. Darcy teeth merely ground over one another in that distinct habit they had of doing when his own patience was becoming paper thin. The sudden feel of Risque's hand on his leg prompting his gaze to shift obediently to her. Those words she offered were near honey sweet in their falsified politeness. As if he had a choice when she had clearly made up her mind on what she desired to do this evening. Visiting his family ranch, it seemed, having prompted her curiosity. No part of him even remotely willing to earn her displeasure tonight. That hand upon his leg a near warning in as much as it was designed to garner his attention. She goaded him further then. Darcy unwilling to fail that very test she had thrust before him here and now. A test of his willingness. His obedience. His temper- and his own submission to her.
"I ain't so curious, reckon it will look jus the same as I left it dem years ago but I'll take ya if its what yar wantin'."
Those very words were near forced out between his teeth and yet, even now, he remained unwilling to displease her. Clay, entirely oblivious to that near tense interaction, offered those directions to the 'shindig' before taking off. A heavy sigh was forced from the vampires lips then as he put the car into gear once more to head back towards the main street. Risque, he suspected, was hardly as interested in that ranch as she was in making him uncomfortable and yet if she ruined her shoes her mood was likely to plummet as fast as his own and make the rest of that drive home damn near unbearable. The drive to the Boot Barn was fortunately short, Darcy no sooner having pulled up outside it then Risque practically purred those words towards him. As if to insinuate Clay, that damn fool of a man, had any power of him.
It was all he offered. Those words hardly impolite and yet they were short, blunt and hardly invited further conversation. There was nothing about this damn town, he was sure, that invited conversation even if he largely anticipated Risque might feel otherwise. Darcy was near keen to distract her with something else as he moved to slide from the driver's seat and wander around to open her door. His efforts to spare her shoes, in the least, seemed well received as Risque slid gracefully from the car to stride beside him into that store- much to the surprise of Marlene. That store was almost exactly as he had remembered it in turn. Rows upon rows of boots, racks of jeans and plaid shirts, horse tack and cattle gear with pallets of feed at the back. Over a damn century and the place was still much the same. Risque's disapproval of what he largely expected was everything in sight was nearly palpable. Her displeasure of Marlene in particularly notably clear and yet for now at least his mate merely saw fit to allow her gaze to indicate that dismay. His own attention shifted to that little human, Darcy quick to indicate what they were after, the vampire momentarily oblivious to his mate wandering from his side to inspect the rest of that store before Marlene returned with that pair of black boots and the promise to attempt to find something to suit Risque's unique figure.
It hardly took long for his mismatched gaze to find his lover once more. Risque seeming to find fascination in that horse tack and farm equipment section. Hmm. Maybe he should have expected it. Her love of leather, it seemed, extended to all things. Even those pieces he suspected she hardly knew what they for. Those boots in hand Darcy made his way towards her then, his own boots ringing out atop that wooden floor, Risque seeming to have found a utility belt to sling over her shoulder in the interim. A black handled knife glinting from within it. An unusual choice and yet he had learned long ago not to offer his opinion on her outfits unless she asked. He paused behind her then, offering those boots, only for Risque to spin towards him with a decidedly notable metal contraption within her hand. The demoness so demanding to know what it was before declaring that store to be a marvel. Darcy willing to take some pleasure in the notion she seemed to approve of at least one tiny facet of his life before they had met- even if it was a fucking Boot Barn.
"Dat's...er.....ya dun need one of dem darlin, its fa livestock."
He could hardly help the fashion in which he ...shifted, if only slightly, at the sight of that tool. His discomfort in being within its presence evidently clear as Risque seemed wholly content to stare at him in expectation. The woman unlikely to be satisfied with his answer. It would be ...unwise to provoke her with that particular piece of equipment in hand. Darcy inclined to weigh his options for several more moments before offering that response.
"It's an emasculator. It's fa geldin' colt's an bull's and ram's an da like. We dun got none of dem 'dough so ya can probably..."
"Honey, what your man there is tryin' say is that is fa cuttin off balls. Castrating. Ain't never seen a man yet that could look at 'em without squirmin' an your fella ain't no different."
Marlene's voice rose from the back of the store from where she worked at putting together that dressing room. That confusion upon Risque's face at Darcy's efforts to explain clearly prompting the woman to offer that far more...blunt description that Darcy himself had so strove to avoid. His mismatched gaze cut sharply toward Marlene, the woman hurrying to busy herself with that 'curtain' again before Risque took notice of the boots within his hands. That emasculator was passed abruptly to him as his lover took those boots, her sharp blue gaze examined them critically before querying whether or not they came in a more notable heel.
"Dese ain't da kinda boots dat come wit 'eels, Darlin'. Day mostly for ridin' dats about as big as dem 'eels get."
Her insistence that they would do was met with his own nod before she gestured towards the pile of chains, hobbles, whips, chaps and straps she had collected. Darcy allowed one eye to arch upward in clear surprise at the collection she had amassed in the short time she had been alone within the store.
"Are ya sure yar want all dat? I- it looks great."
That singular, pointed look was all it took the man to silence any further thoughts he might have on his lovers pile of purchasers. If Risque desired it then he was hardly inclined to tell her no. Besides, they had significantly less cats to feed of late- they might as well put that money towards something they might both enjoy. Darcy hardly opposed to seeing what uses she might event for several of those pieces. That emasculator however was a different manner entirely. Darcy waiting only so long as it took his lover to take a seat upon the cowhide chair before he so attempted to return them to the shelf unnoticed. The sudden use of his name, or that shortened version of it that Risque alone was so permitted to use, readily prompted the man to return near instantly to her side. Her desire to have him assist in removing her current shoes distinctly clear as he crouched smoothly down in front of her before taking that offered leg. His fingers moved deftly to unzip those boots, one after the other, before stacking them neatly to the side and offering her that pair of socks. Once those new boots were in place Risque easily stood upward once more with a languid, near feline ease before examining those shoes with a critical eye a second time. Even Darcy inclined to admit they were ...short. Far shorter than what she normally wore. His own towering height becoming all the more apparent as she stood beside him now. Her acceptance of tose shoes however promoted at least some manner of relaxation within him. Risque, ever fickle in nature, could be a decidedly...difficult being to please when it came to those fashion choices. His own wardrobe having been entirely replaced the moment he'd taken up residence in her room.
Marlene returned in that same moment to declare that fitting room complete as Risque turned neatly upon her heel, offering him her back with that simple command to unzip her. Darcy moved to reach obediently for that zipper. The vampire easily sliding it down her slender, femanine figure. His mind entirely inclined to linger upon the physique he knew that existed beneath. The edition of those cowboy boots upon her feet entirely...appealing even if he strove to control his own desires here and now. Risque near glided across that floor then and into that makeshift fitting room. Marlene and Darcy so momentarily left standing beside one another as Risque saw to dressing. Darcy near expecting her to hate each and every clothing option Marlene had chosen.
You a little bit whipped, boy. Anyone ever told you that?
"I ain't whipped."
Your women just held her leg out and you got down in front of her, boy if dat aint whipped I don't know what is.
"Yar better hope she likes what yar picked out cause is she don't I ain't da one gonna get whipped."
That simper of sorts tugged at his own lip, a singular fang flashed with that gesture as Marlene's features seemed to pale. The woman, wisely, choosing not to speak any further before Risque all but burst out from behind that curtain in nothing save those cowboy boots and perfect, dark blue lingerie and thong that clung to her figure in all the right places. She was a vision. Darcy all but oblivious to that conversation that occured between his mate and that human then. He hardly cared. She was glorious. His mismatched gaze fixated upon Risque's figure alone as that utter want flared potently within himself. His own jeans so suddenly inclined to feel far too ...restrictive. God but he fucking wanted her. Here, now, on the floor, on the chair he hardly cared. She was so unlike any other woman. She was so far above them. She was perfection, a goddess upon this very earth. A vision of divinity. The addition of those cowboy boots to her slender figure so sparking within him those basal, carnal desires. She had never worn cowboy boots for him before. Those smaller heels changed the way she moved as she strode through that shop and yet she was as graceful as she had always been. Darcy's gaze followed her near reverently as she chose her own clothing. Marlene, wisely, hardly making an effort to correct Risque upon her name before. Marlene was hardly worthy to stand in the same room as her let alone look upon her. How that human paled in comparison, in every way. Darcy veritably lost in his own infatuation before Risques near hypnotic, blue gaze turned back upon him with that singular potent question. His mind was almost slow to register those words, his gaze unwilling to yield that sight of body before his eyes finally met her own. Shirt. She was asking about the shirt. That near innate obedience within himself prompting that quick recover and yet how blatantly that lust lingered on his features.
"The black one. Yar always look gorgeous in black, darlin'"
She looked gorgeous in anything, he was certain of it. Mimi hurried to ring up those other purchases then. Darcy's gaze followed his lover as she returned to the dressing room to finish dressing within that outfit she had chosen for herself and yet his mind was entirely unwilling to forget what existed beneath that fabric. Darcy at last shifted from that spot upon the floor, his long stride carrying him easily to the front counter as that card was fished from his wallet and handed to Mimi.
"'Ere she can 'ave whatever she wants. Charge it all ta dat. Carry all da bags out 'ere ta da truck when she'd done."
Risque, he was certain, was deserving of anything and everything she desired. His wallet was returned to the back pocket of his jeans then, the vampire striding from the shop and out onto that front verandah to see to shifting that car into something far more agreeable to the roads ahead. That cold night air almost near forcing that ...restriction within his own jeans to lessen slightly. His own affinity was smoothly summoned then, those shadows rushed to embrace that sleek sports car before beginning to twist and manipulate that metal with flawless ease. The car replaced moments later with a jet black and silver truck. The very kind that inner cowboy adored even if he suspected it would hardly be to Risque's own taste. They would, in the least, make it up to that godforsaken ranch without blowing a tyre. The sound of the door behind him prompted the vampire to turn, his gaze readily falling on Mimi, weighed down beneath several bags as she hurried to carry them out. That's a damn sweet ride! The Southern women's appreciation for that truck was at least appealing as she stumbled over to the load those bags into the back. Risque herself emerging from that store a moment later with several adjustments having been made to that black shirt he had picked out moments ago and yet the sight of her in that new attire was still no less appealing.
"Well hot damn."
How rare it was that those phrases every truly escaped him aloud. Those words uttered near reverently beneath his breath at the sight of her. Darcy reached to take his card back from Mimi then, the woman hurrying quickly back inside, before he held open the door of the truck for Risque to climb into. He smoothly shut the truck door behind her before walking around to climb into the driver's seat in turn, his gaze turned appreciatively back to his lover then as the engine roared to life beneath his hands. Darcy hardly driving forward just yet.
He waited until her gaze finished its appraisal of the truck itself before turning back towards him. That glittering feline bracelet on her wrist, that birthday gift from him, seeming to capture the moonlight all the more within that dark space. Darcy contemplated those words that turned within his mind for several moments then, his tongue toying lightly with the tip of his left fang in an internal debate of just how bold he felt tonight. The vampiric man never before truly having made this sort of request from her before and yet, her mood had been decent enough after that shopping trip.
"Do yar reckon, for me birthday or somthin' next year, yar could wear dem black cowboy boots and dat blue lingerie in dis truck for me? Im jus sayin' yar'd look damn fine and we ain't dun it in a truck 'efore."
The vampiric man was rarely so ...bold as this and yet he could hardly remove that very image from his mind so easily of the way she had looked within the store in almost nothing save those boots. Those intimate activities they shared were near always set on her terms alone. Darcy obediently subjecting himself to her desires over and over and yet she was his mate now, wasn't she? Surely he might be allowed, even if only once a year, to dictate at least one of those evenings.
We are rough men and used to rough ways.