How very unfortunate it was that his own attention was so required to fixate on that task at hand rather than allow him to watch Risque 'play' with her beloved pet. How Darcy might have enjoyed watching Tetradore suffer that fate that the damn feline had brought upon himself. Tetradore had always been...wilful, stubborn, irritating to the fucking extreme and yet for as long as Darcy had known him he was hadly inclined to think of the other man as entirely.....stupid. Yet only a fucking fool would destory Risque's birthday present before her very eyes. Tetradore had to have known what would happen. He had to expect that punishment and yet still- he had pressed his fangs into the skull of that Fae. Robbing the life from it and in turn- fixating all of Risques devilish desires upon himself. That very question of why lingered near potently within Darcy's mind. Tetradore had sacrificed himself for....some Fae. Some man he hardly knew. Hmm. Maybe the damn Were truly was finally going mad. It had taken long enough. The Southern vampire was forced to press those near curious thoughts to the back of his own mind. Along with the scent of the blood that permeated the room so sweetly. The hot, wet, salty scent was....impossible to ignore. Tetradore's blood so rapidly began to combine with the scent of that Fae until that blood lust within himself reached its veritable peak. That desire to bite...something....anything had become a near animalistic need. Darcy taking out that violent intent upon the closest possible victim. Himself.
How quickly the scent of his own blood permeated the air. That pain that ravaged his own system, somehow, alleviating that want for blood- if only for a moment. That cocktail of sensation within his very figure, that assault of his senses, was somehow dulled by that singular act. As if he could fool his own mind into believing, somehow, that he had finally struck at a victim. If only the taste was more rewarding. His own blood was nothing if not....sour upon his tongue. Darcy forced himself to focus upon that far lesser taste as that sweet Fae blood and too, that box of silver, was presented to his Mistress. Risque, by some mercy, was quick to take that glass from him. That tempting, sweet scent was far less...inviting when in the hands of his mistress. Darcy hardly fool enough to dare take what was hers from her very grasp. Yet- he had hardly anticipated the fashion in which she reached for him, her hand enclosing around his wrist. The flinch to his frame in response was near instinctive. Darcy having expected some strike agianst himself as his entire form tensed, that desire to jerk his arm away nothing short of potent and yet- Darcy was nothing short of well trained in turn. Who was he to deny his Mistress his arm if she demanded it? It took but a moment for that veritable trained obedience to overrule his need for self-preservation. Darcy allowed his arm to go slack, affording that limb to the Vampiric Queen entirely as she turned it over, examined it, eyed that wound and yet her features gave nothing away. Whether or not his self-mutilation had pleased her he hardly knew. Those vipers of uncertainty turned within his gut as his gaze near diligently searched her own for some....hint of her intent. Yet her face was unreadable. A stone of carved perfection that gave him nothing.
She released his arm near as quickly as she had taken it only to return her attention to Tetradore. The panther spread out upon that rack for her taking. Darcy, so at last, allowed his own attention to return to the far more unfortunate man within the room as Risque sought to punish him for his veritable crimes agianst her. How deserving Tetradore was of each crank of that rack and yet lash of that whip. He had stolen Risques prize from her. He had ruined Darcy's own birthday gift. He deserved that suffering. Even if Darcy remained distinctly.....uncertain as to why Tetradore had done it. Risque, as she relished in her torment, had hardly seemed to question that very thing as Darcy did. She saw wilful disobedience and little more. Hmmm, perhaps such truly was the case. Perhaps Tetradore simply...rebelled because he could and yet how that question niggled at his mind as he watched that near sadistic torture with a peverse fascination all his own. Hmm. How refreshing it was to hear some sound be dragged out of that fucking cat. Yet even now. EVen in this Tetradore still...acted out. Those very words he spat towards Risque prompted a soft snarl from within Darcy himself. Twenty years that Were had been here and still he did not know the rules. Twenty fucking years he had kept his mouth shut- most of the time- and these were the words he chose to offer? Had Tetradore taken total leave of his goddamn sense?
Maybe it was the blood loss. Maybe that Were truly had no idea what he was even saying. Maybe it didn't matter. Darcy, for now, allowed those curious thoughts to fall to the wayside as he merely watched Risque with her pet. The vampiric queen all but demanding Tetradore say he liked that torment. Hmm. How ingenious. Darcy's lip quirked ever so slightly in brief displeasure of the pleasure he took in watching that show. The Southern Vampire having near successfully blended into the darkness of the room. Forgotten by his Mistress and yet allowed to watch that show all the same. An ideal situation after tonight- of that he was certain. Yet how short-lived that moment was. Those words Risque desired to hear had no sooner fallen from Tetradore's lips than the Vampire woman turned back to Darcy himself, that distance between them closed near instantly as she glided across that ground with a graceful perfection near sinful in its sweet elegance. How quickly Darcy's mismatched gaze found her own. Her hand reached towards him, pressing upon the skin of his neck as he near froze beneath her touch. How he...desired it. How he relished in but even that faintest touch of her affection! Every part of him....craved that pleasure she alone was capable of providing. Her fingers seemed to trace that flesh. Her words an idle musing. Declaration that it was time.
A confusion of sorts was quick to dance upon the other vampires features. Perhaps she meant to punish him still even despite that wound he had torn within himself for his own transgression. Yet- it seemed it was hardly punishment that danced within his lovers mind but rather....a reward for himself. The chance to exact revenge. To make Tetradore pay for very near decapitating him that night so long ago. He had not forgotten that pay, nor the acid that had singed his skin over and over and over until he had finally discovered that sitting within the spray of the shower for hours on end was all that dulled the pain until it healed. That flesh was pristine once more and yet Risques fingers traced that spot all the same. Tetradore's cussing prompted little more than a vague simper to the vampires lips as Risque sought to silence him. Darcy instead querying just where he was allowed to bite that other man. After all, to maul Risques pet in an area she had not chosen would be a sin in turn. How unwilling Darcy was not to....enjoy this moment. The southern vampire could hardly prevent that smile that found his lips. How sweet this revenge would be. Risque permitted him to bite just where Tetradore had bitten him.
Risque had no sooner glided away from his side then Darcy strode forward and towards that strung out cat with clear eagerness. Tetradore's right arm was in the way and yet, considering how very....dislocated it looked, the vampire hardly feared the other man might flail about with it too much. Darcy reached easily upward to undo the cuff around Tetradore's right wrist, releasing his right arm abruptly, letting it fall painfully down to his side and out of the way of Darcy's fangs. The right side of Tetradore's neck was now so neatly and perfectly exposed. Do not kill him. Oh how difficult that would prove to be. He would need to avoid those major veins to prevent the fucking Were from bleeding out within mere seconds. Darcy moved to crouch down beside the unfortunate cat, his hand reaching to hold down Tetradore's free arm just in case, before his lips pulled back from his fangs. How long he had waited for this moment. How ready he was to taste that blood, to pierce that flesh, to make tetradore pay for what he had-. That command to stop saw Darcy near freeze in place. Stop. Had she meant to tease him all along? Did she mean to deny him now? Darcy could hardly prevent that sound of want that rose softly from within his throat. To be denied this now was....cruel. He should have seen it coming. She moved to shoo him away. Darcy reluctantly rising to shift several steps back and into the darkness, the scent of that fae blood tormenting him once more before Risque uttered those far more curious words. Armour? Oh how well Darcy knew of that in turn. He'd nearly broken his fist that day he had struck Tetradore with that in place and yet- this time- that casualty would have been his fangs.
A ready growl of irritation rose within his throat. Fucking bastard! If Risque had not seen it he'd have snapped his own fangs. He;d have risked snapping all of them, in being a laughing stock of that bar. He'd have risked his very place on the proverbial hierarchy within Syn itself. Unable to defend his position properly without those fangs to bite. Risque had....saved him. That singular realisation was nothing short of strikingly potent, Darcy's gaze shifted to eye his mistress near curiously. How rarely she stepped in. How rarely she interfered. Perhaps she...disliked the notion of another stepping into his position at her side, even if it would have been only temporary. After all, Darcy had been her shadow for well over a century now. How very subtle Risque's actions and yet how much they...meant. Somehow.
How he...meant it. His lovers' command to continue prompted the vampires mind away from those notions and toward that very revenge he had been promised. A revenge he could take now that tetradore's armour had been lowered sufficiently. A veritable burst of vampiric speed saw Darcy appear at Tetradore's side once more. The Were given barely a moment to even register Darcy's Presence before the vampire gripped his right arm once more, holding it down, Darcy free hand nestled roughly in Tetradore's hair, forcefully using it to jerk the mans head to the side and expose his neck far more readily. It took the barest brush of cold lips agianst Tetradore's neck to find that place he sought. Darcy's lips parted readily, those fangs plunged violently into that flesh with all the gentleness of a rabid dog bite. Perhaps he lacked that venom of so many other vampires and yet- he was assured he had never needed it. Not when he had so many more fangs instead. Tetradore's flesh parted like butter to the blade of a knife. That reward of blood was instant, hot, satisfying in every fashion and yet Darcy so hardly bit to feed. That blood that ran down his throat was a mere extra prize. Those fangs doing as they simply did best. Mauling.
We are rough men and used to rough ways.