It was as if he could not get enough of that blood. The veins of the dying man so unwilling to yield their bloodied prize quite as quickly as he desired and despite that demanding plunge of his fangs. He was starving in that moment. His body and mind desperate for the return of that vampiric strength and too that satisfying taste that bathed his teeth and tongue. His long-dead body clung to what meager life that blood had to offer with every fevered, hungered gulp. Even Risque, in that moment, was near forgotten as she fed beside him. Darcy so tolerating the existence of another predator in that moment if only for that bond that existed between them. Delicate and tenuous though is was beneath that glowing moonlight as they all but ravaged that unfortunate man. Risque the only presence he would surely have allowed in that desperate, frenzied feeding. The force of his biting efforts had near severed Hans' hand entirely and yet the man had long since gone beyond any ability to scream. Darcy in turn no longer hearing those sinful sounds. His mind was fixated on that meal alone and the desperate desire to replenish what he had lost in that display his Mistress had demanded of him. He had pleased her. That he knew. That he was sure off. The discomfort of hunger a small price to play to exact her pleasure ad favour within him. The entirety of his existence so near dedicated to achieving those very things. Only she mattered. In the end. And he had surely pleased her tonight. Perhaps enough to be further rewarded beyond that privilege of sharing a meal with her.

He was aware, vaguely, of his Mistress releasing most of her hold upon the dying man. Risque, having taken her fill, merely holding the man up like a blood bag to be further drained. Darcy content to continue to feed with that near savage ferocity, his own grip upon the man becoming all the more firm with that rapid return in strength. Their species, after all, was so rarely inclined to linger in any state of weakness long. The return of that blood so prompting a near instant return of his power. The sudden reach of Risque's hand towards his face was ...unanticipated. A growl rose near unbidden within his throat at that touch and yet, this time, he was quick to capture that sound, to swallow it down before it might be perceived as a true threat. That sound so purely ...instinctive and in a ready defense of that meal she had given him. Darcy, after all, had long been known for his aggression over food. The vampire akin to a dog with a bone on those nights Risque so seemed content to stir him into a near frenzy. As if she enjoyed pushing him to the very brink of his control. To offer him food. Only to take it away. To see how far he could be pushed before he snapped and she had reason to snatch at that chain around his neck. Tonight though her touch was ...softer. That gesture a near caress. A gentle embrace. Some part of him near craving that very touch as he seemed to settle agianst her now like some rabid pet so finally soothed into compliance. The sudden, sharp click of her tongue, such a simple sound, and yet one that betrayed her displeasure within him radily seemed to prompt his mismatched gaze sideways once more. Enough sense so finally having returned to the vampire to respond to that sound. His very figure itself taking on that far less aggressive stance if only to placate her further and prevent her taking that meal. To appeal to that dominant side of herself. How he was loath to displease her now. Any further sounds firmly caught within his throat as he finally released his fangs from that mangled wrist.

His tongue swept smoothly across his own lips to capture what remained of that blood. The mewling little man all but ignored as Risque seemed to admire that damage down between the both of them. Her grip upon Hans tightened once more before that hypnotic blue of her gaze so met Darcy's own once with that singular, final command. How rarely he was allowed to finish that victim on her behalf! The singular pleasure of that command so prompting a fleeting simper to his own lips. A sadistic, bloodied pleasure. One he was all to willing to take. How readily that sound of anticipation clawed free from his throat once more. Darcy's gaze fixating suddenly upon that target with a renewed vigor. The Southern vampire so hardly having to be asked twice as he lunged violently forward to steal that last breath of stuttering, pathetic life from the man Risque held. His fangs found their mark their instantly. Those ravaging weapons slicing through flesh and sinew to gash open those major veins like a knife through butter. That flesh parting away from his very fangs as if on command to reward him with that final, bloodied prize. That still heated blood all but gushing now. Running faster then Darcy was capable of drinking and yet it hardly mattered. Not now. Those rivulets of red would hardly be wasted. Those cats would surely find what was left. Perhaps Princess herself might enjoy the bloodied treat. Those final efforts at life were all but flailing. Hans dying before Darcy had finished that meal. His body becoming nothing but limp within Risque's hold before the vampire pulled away with that utterance of his appreciation on his lips. One hand lifted idly to wipe that blood from his face. Darcy, tonight, caring little for 'cleanliness' when it came to that bloodied feeding. Risque lamenting the man's lack of ability to survive the entirety of that process. So terribly few, in the end, ever survived his own wicked, doubled fangs.

How good that energy felt once more. His strength returned near tenfold now. That heated blood so affording him that stolen look of life in turn as it rampaged throughout his system. Risque too appearing equally flushed with that life. Darcy inclined to admire that look it afforded her skin. His lover even more ravishing with that violently pilfered blood filling her own veins. It was that very thought, perhaps, that so coaxed those further desires to the forefront of his own mind. Those lingering wants that had plagued his thoughts for ...years and yet he had never yet seen fit to act upon if only for the very fear of retribution, for how his beloved might act when presented with those newfound desires. That idea of ownership between them, after all, was decidedly tenuous. How readily he bowed to her very whims to command him. To collar and chain him as was her pleasure. To take on that dominant role even despite his own desires for that control. Yet how much he wanted more from her. How ill-satisfied he was with his own.....ownership in turn. Those very thoughts so twisting within his mind as her name fell from his lips. That word so rarely uttered alone and free of those trimmings of adoration or affection. How quickly she had seized upon the sound in turn. Her own features growing near solemn as she turned to eye him. Darcy, ever wary all the same, so offering her his hand then to guide her away from that bloodied corpse and back toward the railing of the rooftop that afforded them that continued view of the city around. He had judged her mood well tonight. That meal and veritable show having placated her enough to be...amenable to his suggestion- of that he was sure and yet that chance remained still that she might take ...displeasure in his idea. Darcy having known her for too long to be fool enough to believe she might not yet take another moment to strike at him for those words yet to come. Risques ability to anger, after all, was near as fast as the lightning that lingered within the distance and rumbled ever closer with each passing moment. How delicately that suggestion need be handled. Darcy's mind already turning over those words with a sharp assurity. The younger vampire near instantly aware off his lover in that moment. His gaze so lingering upon her each and every feature with a distinct readiness despite those outward appearances of relaxation.

Those drawling Southern lyrics easily found his lips then. Each word chosen with a certain measure of care. The notion of love, once more, seeming near lost upon her and yet it always was. His each and every mention of that singular concept over those years seeming only to ...confuse her. As if she did not see. As if she truly did not understand his feelings on the matter no many how many times he professed them. Darcy so having claimed to love her for well over a century. His insistence upon that, in the very last, so hardly having changed and yet surely, surely it was time the rest of that vampiric world so acknowledged what so many already thought was true? Risque, whether by intention or simple instinct had permitted him to share her bed and her meals, to exist far closer than any other. To hunt beside him when she would tolerate no others. Those steps towards...mate-ship having long been established between them. Darcy so seeking something far more ...official. Far more permanent. Her willing acceptance to be his mate. That very bond between their species no small or fleeting thing. Their kind,after all, so tended to mate for life. A mated vampire pair a truly ...potent and powerful thing. Darcy so seeking that possession of her in near the same fashion he desired that power. Those territorial instincts within himself demanding that ownership, that further desire to become more protective then he already was of that being he valued most. Those conflicting desires for possession and power and want and need the driving force behind that offer.

Yet still she seemed...confused. Her features were near blank even as his lips found the back of her hand. Her mind so apparently struggling to accept that affection- or the idea behind it. Darcy inclined to continue to watch her near carefully then. Did she truly not understand his affection after all these years? Had he not tried hard enough? That frustration of soughts bit readily within him and yet the vampire offered little outward sign of that displeasure as he moved to step away from her then and return to Hans' bloodied corpse. It took but a moment to fish within the depths of that chest and produce that very heart. Something tangible. Something real. Something to present to his Mistress to see with her own eyes when it came to his intentions. For several long moments that silence so seemed to persist between them with little more than that rumbling storm overhead, as if the very air waited on near baited breath for that answer. Risque so suddenly demanding to know what he took from this very arrangement. That hint of displeasure flickered daringly across his features then, though whether such a concern came from her lack of belief in his affections or her intelligence in presuming that he too gained from that arrangement so remained to be seen. Darcy having anticipated no less. That vampiric cowboy having learned so readily over those years to dodge those slashings strikes and placate those needling queries so designed to make him slip and stumble into her greater trap. Yet...how very distracting her body was agianst him now. Those subtle touches hardly unnoticed. God, how he craved her attention. What did he get from this?

"I get ta call yar me mate and 'ave it be true. Maybe all dem others tink it's true already but I wanna do it right. I been wit ya for nearly two centuries now. It ain't proper for me to be tellin' ya 'ow I feel and doin nuttin' 'bout it."

How very ...southern those words were. Darcy himself near frowning at the taste upon his lips. Those very ideals near painfully old fashioned and yet at his very core those values remained, it seemed, at least on some level. He had been at her side for nearly two centuries. It was near ...disrespectful not to at least offer her more of himself by way of that deeper commitment and yet too- how readily he knew that very emotion would hardly be enough to sway her. Emotion, after all, mattered so little in their world. His gaze found her own once more. Darcy meeting her eyes with the same boldness he always had.

"It makes us stronger. We got a war comin', Darlin' and a mated pair is a stronger adversary den either one of us alone. I ain't sayin' you need me strength, I know yar could fight dis even without me but even yar know that a pair, in our world, is seen as much stronger den any alone. It makes da whole coven stronger."

How easy it was to weave that logic into that offer in turn. Darcy so seeking to appeal to that dominant part of herself now. That part of her that desired to lead. To annihilate any and everything that came agianst them. His logic in this, surely, could hardly be argued. A mated pair so eternally providing for a stronger coven then any one vampire alone. For Cade to be successful now, after all, he would need kill them both. That silence seemed to find them again then. That anticipation within the air near thick. Darcy assured he could near taste it as his beloved seemed to mull those words once more before that sudden declaration that cut to the very heart of that manner. A realisation he had, perhaps, attempted to shield from her if only slightly. He desired her to be his. And only his. To own her as much as she owned him. Risque so effortlessly slicing to the very core of that meaning with a sharp and dangerous efficiency. Was it truly so wrong that he desired her only for himself? Did she loath that idea so much? How very dangerous that minefield had so suddenly become. Her very question, he knew, so hardly seeking an answer when she already knew that truth. She was before him then, her lips twisting into that dangerous snarl as her fangs flashe towards him. That very gesture so prompting Darcy's own to curl but slightly in turn. The vampire, for now, forcing down his own aggression and yet how ready he was to fight her over that matter if need be. His aggression seeming to rise to meet her own in that precarious moment of tension between them. Her hand reached forward then, snatching at the collar of his shirt, forcing him backward. Darcy yielding to that pressing force as he was all but thrown back into that railing, another growl rising within the depths of his throat. That vempire near bracing himself for that lashing onslaught he was assured would come That concrete bit sharply into his back as another near feral snarl ripped from Risque in that moment. Darcy, for the first time, allowing his own snarl to rise to meet it. That very sound hardly a challenge to her authority but rather ...a refusal to take back those very words he'd offered. As if forcing her to acknowledge them. To hear them. To fight him over them if need be.

Her eyes hardly wavered from his own. That vampiric pair eyeing one another dangerously in that moment. That predatory dance only seeming to grow all the more intent as Risque lingered upon the precipice of that knife's edge. Her entire body so seemed to coil, as if ready to exact some punishment upon him for daring to overstep that mark, for offering those words, for demanding she feel. Darcy near braced for that inevitable impact. Her hand suddenly lifting instead to cradle his own, to lift upward that bloodied heart he still held, her gaze shifting from that heart to Darcy himself and back again. The vampiric goddess remaining silently still. Her eyes narrowed then, her lips parting to suddenly bite into that very heart, that sound of teeth on flesh seeming to echo atop that roof as she simply begun to feed from it. Draining whatever blood remained in that still warm organ until nothing was left. That lightning cracked readily overhead, the sound underpinned only by that near anxious mewling from his own cat. Princess watching those vampires with unease and yet she hardly moved from her place upon that sofa yet. Darcy, for now, content to ignore his pet. His every attention trained upon his Mistress as those French lyrics left her lips in those near haunting, honeyed tones. Those very words so demanding he remain...subservient to her and yet ...only to her.

She pressed into him then, drawing closer, the scent of her alone coaxing those desires within himself as she offered that very acceptance of his proposal. That agreement to take him for her mate. Her words were nearly cooed agianst him in a stark contrast to that violent intent from only moments ago and the lightning that ravaged at the sky above as if the very world itself so witnessed the forging of that pact. That rumble of satisfaction easily coiled within the vampire's chest then. Darcy lenning forward to press back and into his lover, his freehand lifting to tilt her chin upward just so and meet her bloodied lips with his own. That very kiss holding no lack of passion or want in its ferocity. Those tendrils of possessiveness so seeming to bind around her all the more potently then. Risque so entirely his. Even if she did not, perhaps, so fully understand just what she had committed to in that moment. Time sure to tell how much she understood of that bond they had forged tonight. Darcy unable to deny that pleasurable satisfaction that turned within him then. Some desperate, near restless part of himself so at last finding ...contentment in that newly forged bond he was wholly capable of feeling as it ensnared them both. Surely she felt it in turn. That near iron like vice aht bound them so firmly together like that chain about his neck. Those first few drops of rain all that managed to distract him then as his lips pulled slowly back from her own. Darcy's mismatched gaze turned upward to eye that sky above. A hint of dissatisfaction finding his features once more.

"Yar gonna get wet if we stay out 'ere any longer, Darlin'. I know yar dun like dat. Da night is nearly over. Unless dare is sumthin' else yar want tonight I reckon I'd like ta take me mate to bed."

One eye lifted ever so slightly. Those words decidedly bold. Decidedly daring and yet surely he might be allowed the barest of liberties. Darcy stepping past her then, that bloodied heart lifted to his lips to take his own final bite from it before tossing it back towards Hans. Its purpose served for now. The Southern vampire turning to offer his hand to his mate then and lead her back into the depths of the darkness from which they'd come.

We are rough men and used to rough ways.