That gift, in its dazzling glory glittered in the pale gentle silver beams of moonlight that permeated the skeletal fingers of those overhead trees. The way it glittered in all its rare glory seems to appease the woman for only so long, that call for blood from her prey soon winning out. But that hardly deterred that thought of that very gift strapped to Tetradore. She took what she wanted, even if the panther seemed to contest it! That scratch given by the flailing Tetradore held fast, her arms like the chains she possessed on the feline's very own will.
And yet, her insolent feline had other plans, such a defiant little creature to strike out at her, always trying to cast stones from such a brittle glass castle walls! That castle was not even his to be mistreating it so. That act alone was a grave offence in itself, not to mention the dirt that splattered across her once pristine black as night dress, smeared only from that vile paw that put it there. Filthy and ungrateful, he always was. Then again, the woman used to relish in these games, but tonight she did not. Tonight, it only stoked the embers of that merciless rage. In that heated moment of near frenzy she hardly thought anything of the state of her dress, her slightly marred skin nor the way Darcy all by seethed with green eyed envy as she took exactly what she wanted from her pet. His blood. This was part of her prize was it not? Was this not her right to hunt, claim, and devour? That brutal bite was that retaliation and the venom from her vampiric kiss was her game... at least for now. She was hardly through with this. Her flesh.. anything that Tetradore possessed, including the very blood flowing in his veins was simply because she willed it.. she allowed him breath, allowed that heart to beat. Wasn't that enough to inspire his loyalty and devotion as her faithful pet? Apparently not. Yet even though that irritated her immensely.. she would take it any ways. Use it as fuel to bend and break, that durable little feline of hers. How galling it was and yet she enjoyed that challenge, even still as much as it drove her outrage. He would bend, just like the rest... even if she had to cut his very limbs to make it happen.
Just as she took that blood and plucked that gift that strapped upon his front leg. It was truly a wonder it somehow managed to get sullied by the filth that he smeared and splattered with his very paws. She hardly used the full sway of her powers besides that case of torment, that feline control safely stowed, for now.. As easy as it would have been to force him to her will, to be the puppet she willed him to be. No, she wanted him to feel this.. in his freewill. To feel that power stolen away from him, just like it always would. How greedily those sharpened teeth seemed to crave being wetted by that very blood... how very thirsty she was, it only intensifying from that dominating force she is. Even as he squirmed and lashed out, it only served to tighten around him with that punishing hold. That power of that alpha blood began to sing within her, she could feel the energy of that substance intoxicatingly reinvigorate her. How her pale eyes seemed to glow, her body seemed to thrum with that untapped energy... and magic. It pulsed through her like she still had a heartbeat... but only better.. and different.. but familiar to her. That feline mistress had been feeding off alpha blood for longer than she could count. That hum, akin to a purr escaped her... that satisfied sensation of having that hunger sated for now.. and for her felines insolence, she allowed that wound to remain, allowed the venom to punish his system even when she did not physically anymore. It was cruel and yet she hardly cared, simply discarding him toward Darcy's direction to allow herself upon that new hunger gripping her then. She took until she was through, not bothering to having closed that wound. That mangled flesh would serve its purpose, a reminder that he had somehow failed her yet again and simply because she could.
What a naughty cat he was.. to try and fight against her, to use those traitorous claws on his mistress was something she would not forget. Had she not trained him better than this? Of course, she had and yet somehow he refused to learn the lesson. He had clearly forgotten himself.. But for now he could be forgotten as she now craved to admire those beautiful gems. For a moment, that woman was wholly ensnared in it, Tetradore had been dealt with for now and her fingers toying with the key that lingered, tangled within her fingertips, even though her eyes were all for the diamond encrusted bracelet. Even she was apparently not immune to being appreciated.. even though it was such a womanly attribute. One that she would have only scoffed at the very notion... Yet part of her reveled in that, in her own twisted way.
Tetradore may have disappointed her, yet again. But Not Darcy.. Never Darcy. He always seemed so willing to worship the very ground she walked upon, to give himself freely to the hellish inferno that did not burn the wicked woman's skin. How rarely did he disappoint her, which was a rarity amongst an ocean of fools. While her kingdom might have possessed its jesters, he was not one of them. At least he could see, he could understand and better yet... he didn't fear it.. he welcomed it with open arms relishing in it.. he thrived in the chaos she creates. If only her feline pet quit fighting. How he did, she would never know. His will stronger than any man she had broken before him, even his grandfather didn't stand a chance. Yet that was no on her mind as she saw that very devotion from her lover in that very gift, even though her focus was upon that pretty little bracelet that she imagines clasped around her very wrist. Priceless she was assured. Those multifaceted jewels entirely ensnaring her full attention for that moment. There was no doubting that her lover had chosen his gift well, while Tetradore had failed in offering even himself. How hard was it to simply be that prey he was always meant to be?
Darcy did as he was told as he pinned her feline to the ground, that panther was clearly far from any kind of threat to him while her venom lingered in his veins. That was until a sharp growl tore from Tetradore's throat interrupted her. Her head snapped to the side, just in time to catch Darcy recoiling. He faithful and loyal lover.... Recoiling. But from what? Was he foolish enough to try her now? On this day, with all that effort and careful planning in what should have been for her. Guilt, it was written all over his chiseled handsome face and that condemning pale gaze that watched him clearly did not hide that she knew something was amiss. She knew he had been toying with something that was not his to toy with, she saw just enough to convict him. Right underneath her very nose too. She straighted... before the vampire queen drew closer to the duo.. That space around her near turning electric with that power she held back.
If he were anyone else, she would have his heart removed from his very chest. She began that question, her full attention dangerously honing upon her lover. He could have reaped in the benefits of her own pleasure, but he just could not seem to help himself. How she thought that self control was one of his stronger attributes.. She slides forward, her hips rolling smoothly with every step, as if she nearly glided across the uneven ground. She looks like heaven and yet sin seems to drip off of her every salacious move. Time seemed to hesitate as if too afraid to tick forward, as though it too cowered to be her target. She toyed with her gift within her hand, that expensive smooth stone seemed to ground her just enough. Darcy's body seemed all but prepared as he rose to his feet, as if he knew that vulnerable the position he would have offered himself upon the ground. Yet, the way he stood was controlled, polite as he played the gentleman.. and how she knew he played that façade almost as good as she did the alluring receptive queen. How she could have attacked then, could have dealt retribution here and now.. and yet she did not. At least not yet, as she possessed that unpredictability as the cats she wields.
That demand to place the bracelet upon her was soon met, Darcy unable to maintain any distance from her because she refused it for him. It was a gorgeous prize, one that did not belong in the damp filth of the forest. She moved so quickly that not even Darcy was prepared to react as she tugged him closer. She was torn in that desire to either kiss him and the need to confirm her very suspicion. She tasted that air around him, so very close that she could practically feel those lips, feel his cool skin against her own. It was a classic bait and switch... she pulled that air toward her greedily searching for the scent she seemed to know that was there. A moment longer and who knows what she would have done yet and it seemed the quivering air around them seemed to know that very intent... if it were not for that destroyed dress to snag her attention even if that tension in the air hardly diminished. What a complete and utter disaster!
Darcy seemed to react quickly, smartly seizing the narrative, to twist into his own. The small opportunity offered was not something he could avoid for the hope of saving his own hide. Those gentle words slipped from his lips then the sound almost striking against the darkness. That apology uttered just passive enough for the woman to listen to those words. Yet... he had messed up. There was no denying that. Those calculating pale eyes seemed slice right through skin and bone then, unwilling to release him yet. That voice like an idle talon running down a spine spoke clearly. "If I wanted him to heal I would have closed the wound myself." she knew... knew better.
That blood after all was hers and only hers, hers to share, hers to spill, to drink, to waste if she desired to. Her pet, her slave meant to obey her and Darcy meddled. Yet had he been truly eager to please her? After all, why plan such an elaborate gift only to foolishly squander it for a droplet of drying blood? She wasn't foolish enough to believe that, not completely. Oh no, his lack of innocence was clear.. It was then his gaze shifted to her wrist that now wore that prize, her other hand toying with the lock with her freehand. How his words seem to try and lead her down another path, like meticulously placed rose pedals. He was not wrong. That piece was gorgeous, even she could not deny it. But he was distracting her.
Darcy's manipulative words seem to draw her attention from that gift, that beautiful gift that should earn him her favour, to Tetradore's contrast behavior. It was he who ruined her dress, has dare raise a claw against her flesh... it was he who ruined her shoes and sullied her once pristine figure. Yet it was Darcy who should have known to warn her, that her attire was hardly suitable for a hunt. Her lips curled slightly.. Both of them so very foolish, both of them guilty. And yet only one less than the other.
Just as she was about to deal that sentencing that would hardly be pleasant for either of them.... Darcy's boot pressed upon Tetradore's paw, that act alone so subtle she hardly noticed the way he did as his boot seemed concealed by the debris upon the forest ground. They were all so entirely close that the very motion was unmissed. That menacing growl completely ensnared her attention, away from Darcy and his misdeeds... Away from the fact that he had taken what was not his to take. Risque released him all at once, that power lashed out like a whip against her feline all at once, the weight of that sway intending for force him down to the ground, heavily like the weight of a building pressed him down into the grime.
"You try my patience foolish chat. How dare you strike at me... and now growl at me!" Her voice raised with the snap of her very power.. "You will pay dearly for this.. I assure you that." That power for torment seemed to be touched upon too, easily.. as if sensing the work that those hallucinations offered. How she called upon that, intensifying them... as if sending those maggots ever further painfully into his body. As if she wanted him to feel like what decomposing bodies felt like. She waited only so long to hear that cry of pain, to relish in that music sound and waited still. She wanted him writhing and sure those bugs that felt like they were boring holes in your body would have done just that. How maliciously she watched before taking her mud caked boot and wiping it upon her fur. She should have him lick those boots and himself clean.
She then rose that malicious gaze toward her lover, facing him. "You.... I am not done with you yet.. I fully intend to deal with you later... but I suspect you might even enjoy some of it...If I deem it so... Your gift.... Pleases me.. and when you show me what this one does." But wasn't that always their way... that vicious cycle of pleasure and pain... of control.. She lifted that singular key upwards then as she mentions it.
"Take him home see to it that he is cleaned... and fix him with his silver collar.. I will drive alone. You will know where to find me.." That comment alone seemed ominous onto itself, her hand reaching out for those keys to the Lykan expectantly. She rarely chose to drive alone and yet it was that act alone that spoke far too much of her displeasure.
Good, they could both suffer each other for a time, perhaps, that would give some perspective.