Of course she was right and yet appeasement from her lover's lips seemed to satisfy her. At least he was not blind like the rest of them. The nearly ancient being had learned more than a thing or two on her time here and her lesson of family was one she stood very firm upon. Darcy felt it too, surely that potent hatred burned like an ember within him that only those by blood could instil. Family, was a cancerous growth that needed to be cut out and destroyed in order to truly break free, severing the ties to her own maker was equally as important. A twisted story onto itself. It was another burden she spared Darcy of unintentionally when she ended his own. She knew that her mate was better without them weighing him down. He had followed the right path, the path that led to her. He was more than this flimsy ranch that was held together by mere toothpicks and sting. It was difficult to imagine him here, day in and day out a veritable slave bound to the feeble shackles of blind responsibility they were hardly owed. How she rarely littered her mind with the stain of those familial ties. It was hardly a thought worth a lick of space within the corridors of her twisted mind and yet on occasion.. Staring down the faded image of Darcy's own blood she was unpleasantly reminded of them. All that was left were bitter, fragmented memories... and for Darcy, his were nothing but tombstones. If his course were any different she was sure his own name would be amongst them. There was a reason why men lived and others turned to dust. Perhaps that was why his blood sung for her, why the pair seemed irrevocably shackled to one another. Not that Risque would ever admit it to herself.

The fire seemed to dance like something hellish, as it illuminated that very room in a blanketing ominous glow in its volatile splendour. Thoughts entered and twisted within her very mind, liquid and transforming.... Rushing forward and retreating just as quick. Her thoughts were just as tempestuous as that lashing pit of fire. Everything possessed a reason, including the very reason that she had spared Darcy that fateful night when she had levelled the battlefield leaving only one being. A vampire. Not her own. It was a perplexing thing, no one other than Risque had ever known. Perhaps it was the same reason that had spared him time and time again, despite his own cunning mind games. Yet she knew why. She always had known even if she shoved it so distant and deluded herself of its very existence. Simply because she could. The woman rarely giving up control, even to her very emotions and baser desires. Even though there were newfound facets to their relationship, Risque seized control even still. Even though she had inadvertently given some of it up by officially accepting him as her mate. Yet everything about them was convoluted, a perilous path full of traps and countless dangers that only Darcy himself had been able to navigate.

Just to attest to what had changed was the fact that she desired to know more of him. The past before him she had never bothered to ask or made it her business to know. But he was hers. Entirely. Even his lost past somehow now seemed to be apart of him. Which was why she seemed to learn it now. Knowledge was power and the way he reacted she knew more of him within that moment than ever before. It was like piecing together that morbid jigsaw puzzle silently and deftly near obsessively even if she hardly let those thoughts betray upon her steely features. Even as thoughts of his own dead family dredged up a filthy old box she had buried deep.

How devilish she looked as her gaze got lost in those orange tendrils that lashed about. She was terrifying in her unreadable state. It was impossible to know if she would explode or surprise or simply bide her time for some twisted unusual game or punishment. The unpredictable vampire almost seemed like she was in a trance-like state, that odd near nonsensical memory played behind her pale calculating eyes. It was like Pandora's box had been opened, drenched in liquid apathy that she wore with near unflinching eeriness. There was a moral to that memory, one she had learned from that day. Even as she hardly uttered it out loud, driven away from it as she was lost to Darcy's question. It nearly snapped her out from the depths of her own flashback, blinking the memories back as if it was no more than something within her eye. What a man did when desperate had shown whether they were worthy or not. As a girl, did Risque merely fetch him bread in a bid of helpful naivety or did she offer him enough rope in order to hang himself with? What drastic contrast she was in comparison to the hellish queen she was now. Had she known all along that to leave that desperate man in such a state would ultimately bring him his true justice? Or perhaps she had only deluded herself with the notion that even then her actions were purely sinister. There would always be covetous swine, vying for what the other has. Just as.. Even if Risque had made him dance for that bread... He would be back the very next day. Perhaps with more people. To what end? Her family name would have appeared weak. Her father had been right. To take from the beggar, his hands and then eventually his life. You did not beg, you took. You were either victorious or a failure. Her father did not beg or ask when he took his life rather make an example of him to all that thought their family to be weak as a girl who simply didn't know better. Just as Darcy made the decision to break free from his family to take what he desired. Darcy was no beggar. Neither was she.

She almost began to elaborate, but there was movement. And the two predator's attention snapped toward that very sound of the approaching decrepit caretaker. He must have seen the lights from his tiny house on the hill. He entered that home... it was small enough with two powerful vampires taking up that space in surprising harmony. That was until there was someone to unbalance it. But with the human there.... That air all but seemed to grow all the more precarious. As those coexisting creature soon shifted into the predators they always were. That peace shattered to an extent. His blood was tainted. Perhaps she should have eaten Mimi when she had the chance. She was hardly appealing but this man was even less so. What a shame...

The fumbling old man began to speak, babbling his contrived drivel like he would any normal oblivious tourist. His spiel meant to manipulate peoples ideas, to get people entranced by that story even despite it lacked any kind of true flair, hardly doing her own mate any semblance of justice. It was like watching a horribly executed movie. It was nothing more than a rehearsed script. Surely Darcy deserved more than that. That utterance of calling her 'young lady' would have been grounds enough for instant punishment if she were within the city limits of her domain. She was over 8 times his senior. She was certain he would break by a mere flick of her wrist, his bones were brittle like dried twigs. How easy it would be to break him, to toss him into the greedy flames. Yet where would the enjoyment be in that? He was already upon death's doorstep and hardly a challenge in any sense. He could still serve a purpose she supposed, one that put her mate back into the hot seat. Darcy had gone this long avoiding this very place. This old fool would be the tool to draw it out of him. Her lip still twitched, as just a hint of that temper flared within her even still, yet the calculating vixen seemed to win out.

So very few escape her fallout and yet it was one slight she could allow slide. Her next words all but snapped at him. How she cared little for his terribly executed prompts. She wanted him to get to the heart of it even though his own was as weak as his brittle bones. Darcy's own mood turned palpable as it was dangerous, she could see it plain as day, he hadn't even bothered to hide it.

What was it that made him so on edge. Was it facing those very ghosts? Or was it a secret buried deep? Or perhaps it was something else? What was it about this little insignificant blip on the earth that caused him to be so easily wound. It hardly helped that she prodded those weak spots that were displayed so irresistible before her.

Her movements were so very deliberate as she brushed against her cowboy, that friction of contact alone wouldn't be enough to rile him, but perhaps it would prod him further to some unseen ledge she was infinitely aware of. That scowl upon his face hardly lessened in the slightest.

The bedroom, a small cold room now robbed the vampires of even more space. Slowly constricting two dangerous fiends did not bode well for the third wheel. She slid across that space examining those pages protected behind that glass and whatever else in that sad little room seemed to draw her attention. The old man continued his ignorant tale.... In fact, she urged him on, playing the part of the eager learner. It was easy to all but tolerate the old man and focus upon Darcy who was slipping far from his control, the fact that he still clung onto it was impressive. She saw it. Clear as that vivid moon which filtered slightly through the window as that worn old voice droned on. The man fumbled about, fixing his glasses nervously as if instinct warned him of the dangerous vampires he preached to. He desperately sought out his papers as he painted the tale of Darcy's family.

She paid close heed upon the parts that caused her lover to tense. Risque sought to prod, push Darcy on. Her words and question doing just that and in that flippant way, she revealed the greatest plot twist in that measly old man's world. Explaining who her undead cowboy truly was. How the old man stammered over his words! So pitifully then, that fear leaking from his pores as his old heart began to patter. Thud thud thud, his heart sang like music. That audible growl cut through the room, Darcy silenced those meek and nervous pleas. Risque lost interest in what she was looking at before lowering herself down upon that loud old creaky bed, the sound enough to cut through the tension. The old man hardly seemed bothered that she hardly heeded the 'do not touch' signs that littered everything. She rested one leg over the other her expression exuded a certain nonchalance as if casually to admire who own boots that had yet to be sullied yet. The she-devil revelled in that boiling tension!

The caretaker rustled his insignificant papers, Risque's rare compliment fresh upon her lips that seemed to be the very leash upon the coiled Darcy then. She was not wrong in her deserved words. Would she surround herself with a man that was subpar? No, she did not tolerate fools in any sense. It seemed to cause a calm, only prolonging the inevitable storm that grew within him. But it would be a feast to behold.

The question she poised toward her mate then made that room so uncomfortably silent for those tense moments. She might have calmed his anger, but she loaded a gun. Silence. And then finally, in the wake of that question, Darcy began talking. The story felt right from his own lips that would not speak a lie... or a fabricated assumption. They were the truth. That was what she wanted. She wanted to hear it all. To absorb it and suffocate it all at once. After all, he had probably not uttered that tale at all since he had met her.

Why hadn't Darcy killed the bane of his existence? That was the true question. What she hardly expected was a sense of obligation to his mother and sister. Darcy, the callused man she had plucked so inexperienced and yet possessing so much potential actually cared for his family. At least at one time. She placed her hands on either side of her so she could lean back as if she hadn't heard anything amusing.

His father and the rest of his family held him back. They kept him weak and oppressed. He paused, his disdain for that man was pristinely clear. It was no surprise that Darcy saw an opportunity and he seized it, escaping the one place that kept him but a flea. Of course his mother tried to keep him from that potential just as his father did in differing degrees. It didn't seem to matter, all that caring seemed to get him nowhere fast. All that money he sent out of obligation only seemed to attack him in the end. His sister had died anyways and his mother was so weak she couldn't stand up for her family. She paid for her crimes, continually put in place by a man that she could have easily done without if she was resourceful enough. Risque possessed no sympathy for weakness.

If she knew better she should have poisoned him if she didn't possess the stomach for anything else. She could have run that ranch and claimed Clancy to be unwell but alive. They would have done better for it. But what she couldn't stand more than chauvinistic pig, it was a weak woman that did not possess enough backbone to take a stand. Risque's eyes narrowed, the longer that tale got the colder Darcy's voice did too. The caretaker remained deathly silent. His eyes wide like saucers, his mouth agape in a rather stupid expression.

How she somehow seemed to take comfort in those frozen notes of her lover's voice.

He seemed frozen in place. Present and yet so far away as if lost to a reverie. His past flooded that small room.. The picture he painted was far more vivid than any story from the caretaker's lips and he knew it. Risque's gaze seemed fixated upon her mate then... She could feel that turning point in the story the moment his sister died. Even then, her mother refused to leave. That was when he went into battle and he was turned. The best thing to turn a vengeful man into one with a newfound purpose without the ties to the human world. That night he was reborn into something better. Risque was sure it was one of the next best things to have happened... but most certainly not more than him meeting her. Sure he might have become a vampire but he was still wasted potential, his maker a failure through and through. If only she had a progeny with merely half of it. But even then, he broke away and found a way to survive. He became something of his own crafting. A ghost, the first taste of what power could get him. Yet... even then.. He was still hindered in her opinion, his vision too small. But how could he know? He had no taste of what he could have. In that very moment his gaze found hers as if reading her mind. That coldness fled him as that genuine grin found his lips, his fangs flashed within the dark.

Even she had heard whispers of that ghost. Warnings rippled even to her and her own troop caught in a war of their own. A war within a war. That was quite a story. Darcy's roots now exposed for her to see. She remained still, unfathomable barely moving from her perch upon that abysmal bed. "Ah... and those spared would only tell your tale and then that legend grew stronger. I had even heard of you, vampires were even fearful of your name. That was around the time when I destroyed that coven, the.... Death of your... maker brought you to me." She added as if reminiscing that time. The years had changed so much since then. Opportunity was only offered to those bold enough to take it.

It was like the caretaker did not exist within that room, the two vampires gaze locked as if silently communicating. "You refused the life that was given to you and you took it back. Your family was as good as dead from the start. They betrayed you. Just as mine did." The french vampire continued, almost considering to add more but then the foolish caretaker opened his vile mouth to speak. His voice unappealing, his mouth gone dry which made him croak when he talked. That mention of a book drew her sharpened gaze toward him. He blabbered on, Risque's lips twitched as she drew to her feet in one seamless movement. That old man deserved to die at least three times over that night. But he did serve his purpose. It was a shame his blood couldn't serve another. Darcy growled at the man before he questioned him. Curious of who was the face behind this town of Jakin. Surely he realized Jankin was nothing worth his time. Why did he care? He knew the right questions to ask. Yet she allowed to let it all play out.

Darcy seemed to hone upon his own trail. One Risque was entirely oblivious to. To what end was it? Wouldn't destroying this little ranch to ruin be enough. Couldn't they take the town along with it just for sport? Yet, his desires seemed wholly mysterious as he ordered about the caretaker to execute for. What on earth for? For all her years and still, Darcy managed to surprise her. The old man was smartly quick to appease him. It was like he finally pieced together that his life was in question and he desired only to serve.


There was still a precarious energy buzzing about Darcy. Volatile. Raw energy prompted by that story. Despite how calm he appeared he was... loaded and cocked. How she enjoyed it, it was like a lure that appealed to her. That singular question offered saw to Risque's surprised expression. What did her religion mean at all? Baffled by the question she shrugged moving about that room like a predator.


"Religion is for peasants and those seeking control in their... pitiful misconstrued lives. Wh-" She waved her hand idly, her voice nothing more than a melodious apathy. Risque had abandoned her faith as her family abandoned her, she grew up in a time where it was expected of her. Perhaps once there was a time she believed. But like so much in her world, it did nothing but serve as yet another anchor that needed to severed in order to take back her own control. She had barely spoken those words, he was gone right after she muttered not... It was shocking. It was unheard of for him to ever cut her off.. To ever not listen to every syllable uttered from her lips. She heard a slight commotion. "Darcy?" She peered around. What the hell? She moved across that room toward the window to examine where she heard a horrible commotion... catching but a glimpse to see where he had gone, but that flash of complete and utter rage was impossible to ignore. What demon possessed him?

Her eyes narrowed before with vampiric speed she moved toward the door. In but a breath of a moment she was outside. The tiny confines of his home left behind. It hadn't been that long at this ranch and she could feel it like a noose around her neck. The air felt refreshing despite the crackle of Darcy's rage felt like bread crumbs for her to follow.

Even as she cursed every step upon the uneven ground she still maintained that fluid grace, the sound of her footfalls crunched upon the dirt as she moved her way to that source of that power that all but leaked from her mate. She should have heard him scream there was that much emotion blasting from him, but that tension in his jaw said everything of his soured mood. She narrowly had to dodge a chunk of the rubble from the tombstone he had carelessly tossed over his shoulder.


Darcy seemed to take rest in peace quite literally letting his family's tombstone to rest in pieces. Risque all but stood motionlessly, hands placed firmly upon her hips as she watched the show, a desecration of that small pioneer cemetery. All of that energy that built within him, that she had welcomed within him met a spilling point like breaking dam crumbling, giving way to a violent wave. The full-grown vampire threw an explosive temper tantrum that could be heard for miles. There was nothing left of those graves except destroyed stone, she watched on, wordlessly. He was truly a sight to behold, in fact, she enjoyed watching the way his muscles worked beneath his clothes, enjoyed watching that raw fury unfold within him. He hadn't even noticed her own presence as he tore what was left of his family apart. She wondered what he would have done to them if they were still alive, if those stones might have well been their bodies. Now that would have been a sight. Regardless, she watched him tear apart that concrete with his bare hands, leaving what once was in complete ruin. Why stop there she wondered? How difficult would it have been to reduce that cabin to splinters? Or simply to watch it burn to the ground. After he threw that final chunk of heavy stone like it were nothing more than a pebble she drew forward once more as if he could discard all those pent up emotions.

"Does that feel better?" Her silken voice crept toward him as she did, approaching him from behind. She reached out an idle hand to press against him, so taut he was! "Even still... this ranch.. Your family had power over you... End it tonight... Do what you must, kill what you must. But you dare not give them any more power or thought than they have already took. Family... is cancer... cut it out from you and let it die here tonight.."

She let her hand trickle down his spine... the devilish woman's pale eyes gleaming wickedly beneath the silver glow of that mesmerizing moon.

"You are as weak as your weakness..." She slithered in his ear.

She leaned in smoothly calculating her every movement raising up upon her toes, she felt so much smaller without her beloved heels. She whispered into his ear. "Let this town die... and its memories along with it. When we leave this place. When this business is settled." She cooed, stepping away smoothly.

"There is one left.. Finish it before the old man gets back." She implied even though it was more like an order.. She found a perfect throne amongst one of the gravestones as she lowered onto it to sit.

How she had every intention of getting her hands on Darcy's book. Perhaps she had a mind to have him read it to her. Risque toyed with an obscure object within her fingertips that she procured from the truck, a bottle of unopened moonshine. She waved it in the air before her, the moonlight glinting off the smooth glass. "Then we drink..." What an odd proposal and yet if she could not fill her belly with blood.. It might as well be alcohol. Those memories needed to die.... And what better way to numb the unpleasant bitter aftertaste.