out for blood
she's somethin' so cold-blooded with
a deep killer instinct
Risque's words were like barbed wire traps threatened to snag and capture. Her words though, the very sound of them were like satin sheets on naked flesh, melodic in a refined way that could lure a man to his demise. A simple but pale goading and yet no less dangerous. How quickly it could change like lightning would strike, with equal ferrosity. She had her reasonings that she rarely ever shared. Her perfectly manicured brow rose sharply, daringly.... Welcoming. Did he not wish to play? She was the one who held all the worthy prizes... unless he wished to busy himself with the paltry second-rate denizens within her parlour. How unlikely it was with all she dangled before him.
Darcy's mismatched eyes had locked onto her own, pale depthless blue. Her cowboy's gaze was decidedly bold, judging those volatile shifts she could summon at the drop of an eyelash. One could never be certain if she was in control of them all along.. Using her own moods as another trap to sway her favour, or she was truly that unpredictable. Appearances were everything.
His southern drawl rang clear in response, his very words designed to work within her complex snares. A safe response and yet it seemed to satisfy her all the same. The question about the stakes of that game questioned next. Any smart gambling man would wish to know what he afforded to lose and what he could potentially gain. Risque, intentionally vague with what she stood to gain should she win. If Darcy was curious of what that entailed he knew better to press further upon it. Those stakes if he lost were great enough incentive for him to play.
The southern cowboy reached for that deck, as he began automatically and absently shuffling that deck with perfect dexterity honed by a century of practice, that vampiric speed in which he moved could be observed easily from her own eyes. How well he shuffled that deck... Perhaps more than he had to. Perhaps he took that time to consider every possible scenario.. Darcy moved across from her in the dealers position as her gaze tracked his movements, a goading question about if he'd gone soft. He'd not accepted those terms... He seemed to meet her words yet again, engaging and suggestive all the same. One might call that an invitation. As if he were to rise to the occasion in any situation. The corner of her dark red stained lips twitched into what seemed like a glimpse of amusement.
"Always so... eager to please. I like that in a man." She cooed as she leaned back into her chair, her leg draped over the other. While she was one to draw things out when she deemed necessary she rose her hand to gesture for him to continue. She had set up this match deliberately, as if to see how he would play his hand. She looked every bit as unphased as he began to deal those cards and flipped them to reveal their spread. Even with the music playing.... The room had gone deathly quiet. Darcy already had a hand closer to the coveted 21 and Risque was near forced to take another card. Her chances of going over that number far higher than she'd like. But to simply stand... she would clearly lose.Yet there was a chance. So far. Darcy didn't dare twitch even an eye out of line. She could still win this. Risque looked to the table before looking at Darcy, her hand tapped the table with complete confidence of a player that had done this for decades. Her mouth parted just as she was about to say that one word to place her final card down... until Darcy covered the deck with his hand and said the boldest words he'd said next to asking her to be his mate. Risque's eyes narrowed immediately, his words like sandpaper. How could he be so sure? How she disliked when any man tried to tell her a thing. Not to mention after she had already indicated he wishes. Yet his voice held certain and so did she. She would not back down after she challenged him. That challenge still hung in the air, suffocatingly so, it build and builds until it almost builds a current of power akin to an invisible electrical storm radiated from the most powerful vampire in that room. Herself. She would not stop that game on his own words alone.. For all she knew it was apart of his charade. She would not turn to cowardice, not even to a measly game of cards.
Risque nearly bristled as he said those next bating words, like a hook he'd dangled before her.. To lie to her tonight would be perilous. What if he was? A cursed smile tugged upon his lips as he goaded her as she goaded him so many times before. She moved sinuously forward as a feminine gasp could be heard from behind her, undoubtedly from Lorelai taking a breather from her quest of tormenting Ian when there was a far greater intrigue in occurrence. Every single pair of eyes rested upon the pair engaged in that game before them. Risque ignored them all, focused simply upon the game before her. Her hands reached for the edge of that table sliding outwards as she leaned in further.
"Daring words, cowboy." That lightly french accented words dripped like a drop of poison in wine as she shifted so minutely a single polished fingernail tapped upon the dark wood just before she continued. She hardly acted like she was going to lose. It was almost like she had caught him in a trap of her own. So wickedly concealed within a game she could ensnare him. "Hit." She tapped that table sharply once more as she enunciated her very word. Her tongue slid languid across her lower lip as she watched him in anticipation. Many would crumble beneath prickly shoe of uncertainty as seconds ticked by and yet... How she thrived in it. Drew her advantage within it. But there was no advantage to draw in a game of chance. Darcy hinted to nothing as his callused finger brushed against that card before it was revealed. A nine.
She'd lost. She'd known the moment she saw that number flash before her eyes. There was not a single noise within that club, everyone remained frozen in place within their darkened shadows like movement alone would provoke her. Darcy's gaze met her own and didn't dare look away, a move so bold she could have flayed him for it. That familiar southern drawl soon boldly followed once more, claiming he didn't lie. No he hadn't, he'd warned her and it wasn't for personal gain or was it? He'd either known she wouldn't back down and he was covering his own tracks... or he was truly warning her. Which was it she wondered without true certainty. Had she allowed him to play her? Had he been anticipating that all along. Or perhaps he merely thought he did and she had played the player into doing exactly what she expected of him. Ah it was never so simple. To think it was a test... only alluded to her own mercurial and methodical genius. Or perhaps just this once she would allow him that sweet drink of victory.
He didn't let her win and that alone set him apart from the rest and could have damned him all at once. Now.. how did she wish to proceed? The seconds ticked by as time waited for no one even though it seemed to with the tension that lingered within the air.
All of them could already see it at the forefront of their mind, predict what would happen next. Would Darcy suffer? Had she set him up for the largest fall of them all? There was no denying that it was in each and every one of their eyes even if she couldn't see it. She hadn't needed to. Some had shown relief that it was not them in his place, others pity, and some sense of contentment. Risque's ire when sparked was no secret.. And even though she remained perfectly emotionless, which only made it that much more agonizing!
Darcy searched her for an inking or sign. His far too studious eyes would find none within her seamless mask that shrouded her beautiful features. Wrath was a beautiful thing, one she wore all too well.. Far better than any jeans or boots... She wore it like lingerie... but she wore her cunning like diamonds. She could live off those two things alone. Yet this was a new situation entirely.
How bold her undead cowboy this night. Perhaps it was what he wondered what was to come or.. The fact she'd allowed him to share that meal.
She'd lost. Risque was by no means.... Ever in a mood to lose. She looked at those cards like they were something less than and yet somehow offensive for a glimmer of a moment.. Her pale gaze rose to Darcy once more, that moment filled with so much unspoken anticipation. Every being in that club could feel it. It was like being in the presence of a nuclear warhead about to blow. Her fingers slid in place before her. It would have seemed like an eternity but it was only a few short moments. He claimed he didn't lie. "It would appear not." She stated those ominous words loudly enough that the room could hear.
Ah but there was a price to pay, either way. There always was. He would have been a damned man to lie to her... and damned man if he didn't do as she explicitly asked.
But it was just a card game.
Their eyes were locked in what seemed an eternity. She rose to her feet, that chair pushed back as she stood, leaned into that table as she spoke. "Come with me." Not a question. A demand that was as ensnaring as a razor wire noose around his throat. No matter what part she played she would forever be dominant at the core of it. Those three little words contained so much, enough to send an imagination rampant. She turned with that supple grace, her long bluish black hair whisked around her as she moved with a distinct purpose known only to her. No one said a word. No one dared. They all looked busy... they did a poor job of it too.. But no eyes dared to look upon the pair. Her slender but powerful legs carried her with an elegant seamless stride all the way toward her office. That unspoken threat was like a damned leash around Darcy's throat, as though that thick chained necklace he wore drew tighter as he was forced to walk behind her. She said nothing as the she-devil slipped into her office expecting him to follow like a shadow like he had over the years even if that very walk might as well have been to his own torment. This night had been going so well, had it not? How could it so shift so fast?
She led the way toward the back into her office to where one of her stairwells led to her garage, it sprouted into several directions... one further into the club, one way to the car garage and another that could take them upstairs into their room. Syn was built like a labyrinth that Risque knew every nook and cranny of like her own body. She could be anywhere within those walls... she designed every shortcut with meticulous care so that only she could have access to it.. Every hidden corner down to the steps, planned with meticulous care. Their shoes echoed in the lit stairwell that illuminated as the sensor was triggered... No one knew where they went beyond that office. One could only deduce what would happen next. It was so easy to presume. So easy to wonder what torment that awaited Darcy... if taking one of her creature's tooth was only just for sport.
They remained just outside the private doors into the garage, a small but still polished room with black marbled floors that you could see your reflection in, a tinted mirror that lined half the walls...The garage with her private fleet lay dormant just outside those heavy doors that only she had access to.. The light set to a dim setting that could easily be adjusted and yet it mattered little to a vampire's eyesight...
She stopped suddenly and yet did not turn to face him. "Darcy." How she tasted every letter with her faintly accented words. It could almost be heard with an inflection of disappointment only if one mirrored their own emotions upon it. When was the last time she lost? She had always set herself up for victory time and time again. You did not get to where she stood by losing. She pivoted upon the balls of her feet soundlessly to face him. He seemed far taller in this style of boots.
"I loathe losing. You know this." There was an underlying terseness within those words as though they were such unused words strung together.. Another 'L' word that seemed to rarely grace her vocabulary. He'd warned her, given her every moment to manipulate that situation to suit herself. He wouldn't have said a word either. Yet even despite this.. She tested him, even at the cost of that game. At his game. It was all an elaborate test as if she needed one to deem him worthy of control for but a breath in their mystically long lives.
"Yet.... what do I despise more than losing?" He'd given her the choice. The choice to demolish the playing field, to start over.. Or test him. But to do so... would most likely ensure his victory. It was the boldest move he'd ever tried in the history of them. He'd learned her just as well as she taught him. "A liar." She added cooly.
It was a game of chance... how could he possibly know? Even counting every last variable, there were still odds that she could take all. Only a select few cards...that sent her over or.. Under his limit. How she disliked card games when she lost... it was why she rarely indulged in them.. Although she had to admit playing against the were... that she quite enjoyed.
She could see that wariness within Darcy's form. He hid it well but not well enough from her. She could pick up on it. He gotten dreadfully quiet as if not to risk her temper. Had he regretted his actions? Was she accusing him of lying?
In a moment, she moved, deadly fast, faster than Darcy, stronger even. She'd rarely needed to show that display of her power. The older the vampire the stronger they were. She had far more centuries over her mate and yet she would have not tolerated anything less. She was a blur, nearly invisible to the human eye not that it mattered for the two predators in the room.
She suddenly had him up against a wall, she slammed into him right into it that one of the mirrors cracked, spidering out in an instant. Yet another thing that needed to be fixed. She swore she heard the wall behind it groan in protest too. A satisfying sound and even more perfect position with his back pressed against a solid surface like a mouse that couldn't flee. She was pressed so tightly against his body, offering him no solace. No personal space. He was pinned. At her mercy.. How she enjoyed that very thing, her body even though it hardly looked like it.. Was a weaponous thing.
"How poorly this would have gone if you did." Surely he did not fear her at this moment. Her voice sounded intimate, a sultry tone that needled its way right into the most intimate parts beneath the surface She leaned in heavily into his body that she became almost flush to his clothed, muscular physique as her hypnotic pale eyes fixed upon his own unique pair. What a predicament he was in. How she could not help that dominant nature. Desiring nothing more than to take more. To over power and overwhelm. It came as innately as a human breathes. She wondered how she could relinquish that control for even a breath of a moment.
"Close your eyes." There was that other command she expected to be obeyed, that control she dangled in front of him it would seem, was not now. One hand reached for his hand that she placed against that wall in case he sought to test that boldness further, her hips pressed against him to keep him in place.. Her other hand disappeared from view all together. Was it a weapon she reached for? Did she have a blade even on her? Had he noticed?
Did he wait for that sudden impending pain she wished to deliver? Most likely with a slow artful precision of a paintbrush in a master's hand.
What a strange shape it was within her fingers, her hand curled around it taking caution in having it make too much of a sound.
you better run
the full moon's rising.