out for blood
she's somethin' so cold-blooded with
a deep killer instinct
Risque watched as her lover beneath her expert touch seemed to take part in that internal struggle. A waging a war he so valiantly fought against. Why fight it? She wondered, knowing all too well he wanted her. He always did. She enjoyed watching that conflict that played out before her, far too much that she hesitates, a rare occurance to behold when she should have continued. No man could fight it. She was sure. Yet she revelled in the torture of want he all but revelled in for just a touch too long. What she hadn't expected was for him to find a string of clarity within her madness she inflicts him with. Her words are like the seductive devil's promising the world and all its splendor and yet there was always a cost. A steep one for Darcy, it would seem... and perhaps one even more steeper a cost than she anticipated, for herself. Even if there was some morbid curiosity that lingered within. Yet if he could navigate her intricate traps with a disturbing ease, would he not be worthy for a night of passion of his choosing? Ah, she had crafted him into such a being..she hardly thought possible. A man that finally thrived beneath her cruelty, relished within it and met it with equal fervour. What a peculiar creature he is and perhaps always was.
Her impassive pale gaze watched in what seemed as vague and yet anything but as those jagged little puzzle pieces, complex in all nature, came together. That rouse had been overcome... she had never been rejected before that frustration growl a low ominous hum that rolled from deep inside of her as he rose to place a kiss upon her lips. Bold! She could demand so much more from him. That action alone was akin to kissing a volatile tigress ready to strike, no one should have dared to get close to her fangs. He had never denied her, not once. Which perhaps should indicate just how much he did not want to allow his own hold upon that forged deal to slip. Darcy in that moment was careful and calculating, as if knowing what she considered in that moment. Even as that desire still coaxed within his veins, he somehow pulled back in a conflicting bold and submissive dance that no one else had mastered before. He was so very careful to press and yet never too much to risk the apocalyptic ire of his mate and yet somehow, he managed with that very title to somehow claw his way even closer. How that was even possible she hardly knew. Perhaps this quarantine was getting to her? Yet had it not been over a century in the making?
Yet, she had made a deal.. And while she had no problem in obliterating deals should she find no longer suited her. This one she was certain she would never hear the end of and perhaps even fairly entered upon. She was lucid at the time was she not? Once Risque's mind was solidified, it was impossible for it to change... At least, in some things. Yet if were such a deal were to fall apart.... As if it were his idea. Ah, then that was fair game. Yet how impossible it was for her to grasp within her convoluted mind that... perhaps she too, was curious. His fangs pressed into the lushness of her lower lip in which she pulled back, in all her devilish beauty remained close enough to whisper. "You move along a dangerous ledge.." Each word uttered languid and ominous. He should know better not to toy with the gun he loaded.
How she enjoyed watching that resolve waver... until that too was interrupted. Darcy perhaps only saved by some sort of divine intervention in the unlikely form of Randall. Big, oblivious vampire he was, slower than she would like but loyal... Darcy's territorialism roared to life. It always did, the desire to utterly destroy anyone that came close to that living space or her always sent him in such a tizzy... it amused her. The potency of it.
The prospect of breakfast seemed enough to let Darcy off her sharpened hook for now, that game far from truly over, she was certain. Just as quickly as Risque could rile him, she could soothe him. That violence settled like a flick of the switch at the promise for food. He remained perched upon the bed and yet his eyes never once leave her, she could have felt that stare, she knew him. The woman strode with a distinctly sinuous fashion to procure what she had planned. Yet, she fully intended to make him regret his very choice, regardless that his resolve seemed to amuse her. She tortures him with those very boots that were slipped upon her feet, the way she moved to display all he could have had. The groan that escaped him surely gave him away, confirming that torment she inflicted on him.
He was clearly unaware how lucky he was, to no longer be the focus of her attention now. That her mind's singular intent was no longer on setting him up for failure. For the simple fact that every man has a weakness... and how she knew how to exploit it. How she learned that Darcy's weakness was the most simple and yet complex one of all. It was her. How certain she was that her relentless pursuit would see to him fail and yet some forbidden thought was curious to see the opposite, at least in this instance alone. Breakfast however served to garner her attention. This one was different. Yes, he certainly showed fear but.... He also showed desire. That much was clear, that utter conflict written upon his very face as his eyes wandered upon his captor. Darcy, as anticipated, hardly took kindly of the man and his roving eyes. Ah, this could have gone so very differently if he had merely released that promise for temporary control. Yet it was like a game all the same. That human was released abruptly, to allow him a chance to consider escape. Such a futile thing and yet.... Hope.. when it lay perfectly within her palm.... Was a perfect use for control... to crush into ruin as she saw fit.That sudden movement saw to Darcy's instincts to flare... while Risque was vaguely aware of her own... she hardly reacted even though hunger rose within her. For as fickle as she was... her actions were always deliberate.
However, Darcy's attention wavered from Breakfast to his phone. Risque had almost forgotten of the promiscuous photo she had snapped and sent before he even rose from his pillow. Technology and pictures alike were so rarely ever as good as the real thing. That act to tease her lover, displaying that singular glimpse of what she wore beneath only intended to taunt him further. If he could reject her, she would make damn sure he would suffer for it in a wholly new game of her own making. The true question remained: how much could Darcy take? It would seem... that Darcy was not the only one aware of that little show, as the human allowed his eyes to wander where she so desired to bring attention to.
True to Darcy, perhaps.. Already wound up from her initial figurative assault and his utterly incomparable possessive nature ran rampant as an audible growl escaped him, that impatient remark which served as a deadly, barbed warning. The human in that room seemed to suddenly be aware of where he was. Like prey being unleashed within a hungry lion's enclosure as he reacted as he should have from that snarl of reprimand. Those words and his very demenour were hardly anything new, but they betrayed just how agitated she had made him, unfulfilled a noxious blend of wanting and hunger. Risque's pale, calculating gaze snapped toward her lover then, oh he was so thoroughly wound. How easy it would have been to provoke the beast she had moulded. How.. tense he certainly was. That melodious sing-song voice needled its way through the distance between Darcy and herself as she began to move across the room, more akin to a sinuous feline slinking toward that loudly thudding heartbeat of her food, even though her deadly devious lyrics are for her mate alone. "Oh surely you are not jealous of a man that will not remember a thing in a moment." How ominous that insinuation was with her tone.
How even she could not ignore that delicious warm morsel that fluttered madly across the room in a last ditch effort to escape. Darcy's hunger... got the best of him, like it always did. That lust for blood was as intrinsic to them as the sexual nature of their species. That inquiry left her mate then and she seemed to consider it... perhaps sharing was within his grasp tonight. But to share... while feeding at the same time. That was not something they had ever attempted. Both creatures domineering in their own right and yet it was Risque the very apex of that hierarchy, the ultimate holder of that control made that very concept so very dangerous. Hmm. Yet... there was something almost appealing, about the notion. It was far too easy a thing to capture the bound man.
Darcy was eager to lap up that offer of a birthday request. That offer was as fickle as her. Only offering such a thing when she wanted to.. Or as often as she willed it. There was no rhyme or reason. His response included a polite bob of his head and a clear want that he carefully worded submissively. She pulled the warm human toward herself, relishing in the heat of his body and the blood that hummed with his veins. His heartbeat only pushed that delightful scent through his very body and furthering that pinkish hue of his skin.
How sinuous she moved... effortlessly, even as she toyed with her food like it was some kind of sensual dance for even her lips to find her prey's throat upon her favoured side. Just because she allowed Darcy then, did not mean he controlled this deadly dance.
How easy it would have been to feed, to be the first to enjoy that blood, taking her fill as she would normally... only sharing what was left with Darcy. Yet, how precarious that moment was. She uttered Darcy's name, into the other man's neck, his pulse almost throbbing to meet her fangs that longed to be coated in his blood. How quick Darcy responded, doing exactly as he was instructed which was imperative. The writhing human's form further entrapped between them.
It was almost odd the way that human seemed to relish in that sensation and perhaps part of his brain shut down in lieu for the feel of her lips upon his throat. A singular word. Whimpered from his lips and yet not entirely like how one would imagine. Lust. 'God' the man helpless and hardly seemed to mind. "Is not here." Risque responded coldly into his neck.
How.. quickly his little heart raced for an entirely different reason.. Risque commented upon the human's eagerness. Amused by it even before Darcy grumbled his threat that instantly caused the mortal to tense, swallowing a hard lump within his throat that only plucked the strings of her own hunger. Now, she wouldn't mind such a sight but that entire ordeal was far too bloody. She had only just dressed and yet she seemed to consider the prospect, having to tighten her hold upon her food. "Mmm it has been a while since I've seen you do that." There was that depraved part of her that desired to see it, to witness the brutality of her lover like she knew him to be. All that raw virile energy funneled into a perfect blend of destruction. Yet... Why should he have all the fun. Birthday or no.
That patience... began to wear to the bone. No.. there would be no playing that food now, she was far too hungry for that.
This was certainly not the first time they had found themselves in this position but every single time Darcy had been told to wait his turn without any complaint he complied. Without warning, Risque's teeth slipped into his skin like a sharpened knife, which only prompted a sound, a mix of fear, pain and pleasure. Such an amusing little Breakfast indeed. She pulled him downward to better suit her bite, that venom injecting into his veins. Soon, those hallucinations would cloud his view, he already gave into her. His blood was a welcoming thing, hot and delicious. Yet... she was not done. No.. part of her wanted Darcy to experience him with her, as pleasing as it was to make him watch with lust and hunger in his mismatched eyes. That singular word uttered as she dislodged her fangs to instruct her mate.
Darcy didn't dare question that order as her lips and unforgiving fangs found their mark again. Darcy's bite was far more brutal with twice as many teeth as her own. It was like sending spikes of red hot iron into his throat. Yet only Risque would find pleasure from that bite. But not Darcy. No. His fangs were only meant to maim... to hurt... to unhinge and yet how she relished in the blinding pain on those rare moments she indulged him in his marring of her own flesh. Yet... she found pleasure in watching him torment others. She pulled in that blood greedily for a few pulls, allowing it to coat her mouth with his taste. How the man all but convulsed the moment Darcy's fangs plunged almost barbarically into his throat. It tore a choking scream so high pitched it summoned a growl from her own throat. Her own venom seemed to quiet him some or perhaps he was merely falling out of reality itself. She pressed into him further as his head lolled forward onto her own shoulder.
Risque could hear everything that Darcy's brutal fangs did. It was like biting into the juiciest of fruits. How in that moment, that close proximity of him seemed to fuel her own hunger. That desire to take her own share first and foremost... she was almost far too aware of that blood that she consumed and Darcy himself... that she hadn't even notice the human's heart had stopped or that it was only their bodies alone that kept him upright, Darcy moving to get a better hold and prop his limp body until they were finished. How Risque enjoyed that heat now that was within her, her temperature rose.
Once finished it was then that she noticed the severity of Darcy's own bite. As if he took every ounce of frustration into that singular bite, it was a wonder that the mortal lived so long. In a moment the man was simply dropped, discarded like he never even existed as Risque's tongue licked the blood that strayed from her lips that threatened to trail in thin rivulet along her chin. She savoured the taste, barely giving that heap of a body much notice after his singular purpose was full. She breathed simply because she enjoyed the scent of blood that encased her. A purr of satisfaction bloomed softly from her lips before Darcy broke that basking quietude.
For a moment her pale striking eyes stared upon the bloodied face of her mate. While she hadn't so much as a spec of wasted blood upon her fresh clothing, a well-practiced feat onto herself Darcy was coated in it. A frown formed from his words, his accent laced within his words as usual. Her venom... tasted sweet? She moved around Darcy and the body, examining him anew. "Sweet, is it?" she mused almost sadistically. Her venom that could cause such horrors upon others inflicted with it... somehow tasted sweet!, How peculiar... That was the first time anyone had called any part of her sweet. How she found it odd that not even her venom seemed to affect him and yet... strange still.. Darcy was always unique from the rest. Finding a home in her brutality, relishing any parts of her. The only being in this cursed world who relished in her, all of her. The only damn fool of a man that didn't try to change her. Not that he could. She prowled along to his size to meet his mismatched gaze, unblinking, her expression unreadable even though so recently fed she almost looked alive that look alone could never belong to a simple mortal But he did too, beneath all that magnificent gore. As if she could see a glimpse of what he was when alive, as fleeting as it was. "Only you would find honey where others find nightmares.." She finally added, such a rich sound... deceptively soft.
His words once more escaped him as she drew an idle finger through that slick blood that dripped along his neck, as if she contemplated stealing that meal from his own veins. Yet, she seemed to admire the look of him now. He always appealed to her in this way. Slowly her finger left a trail as it accumulated upon her finger tip. How... monumental a moment that she had not attacked him or chased him off after or even during that meal. She was well within her right to defend her own food. His words seemed appreciative, content to have that moment with her. He honoured her...for every scrap she threw him, he worshiped it and her, like she was the goddess who gave him all he had.
She hardly closed that distance fully, even though some predatory part of her wanted to run her tongue through that bloody coating. She didn't comment on his words even though it seemed to please her in some obscure way. "You went and made quite the mess.." It was dreadfully close to a fondly uttered compliment as her eyes suddenly narrowed and she turned upon her toes sharply.
"Clean up... and get dressed.. There is something that requires your attention." She was cryptic as always, her words poised. With little room to react. She toyed with the lingering flavours within her mouth.. Her tongue brushing upon a stray drop residing at the corner of her lips. "You'll find me.. Downstairs. I suggest, you don't keep me waiting too long." How she despised waiting and yet she needed to make sure all was in order before Darcy appeared. She peered over her shoulder when suddenly her two clouded leopards appeared from the closet as if waiting for that very moment to trail behind their mistress, They appeared like two siamese cats, their tails brushed together in a strange dance. It was impossible to know for sure if it were her powers that summoned them or if they simply yearned to be near her. They moved like liquid, weaving in in choreographed unison as Risque left that room to make damn sure everyone was in their places.
Of course they were, her staff far too fearful of her wrath to fuck this up.
The dance floor was transformed, with a custom Blackjack table, a roulette table and a poker table. All black with red accents... how Risque was able to procure them was nothing short of a feat in itself. Yet also entirely unsurprising considering whatever Risque wanted she got. Every single member of Syn, save for Ruben awaited Darcy... with a scowl upon their faces whenever Risque wasn't looking. Every last one of them was forced to bring their most valuable possessions as collateral for those games. The true question was... which one would Darcy choose first and when..... Would she choose to step in? Risque assessed everything, every last detail while not a soul commented on the boots that she wore or how casually that she dressed. At least they were far too concerned for their own well being trapped inside her volatile wonderland.
you better run
the full moon's rising.