There was particularly little thought given towards the sword the young woman so haphazardly nudged under her bedside, even if he might later hate himself for that. Instead, his own thoughts were entirely preoccupied with the very real threat his own life still faced. His body was still black and blue as a result and though he knew all too well that to leave his sentry position might be a grave mistake, Tetradore allowed the young woman to slowly pull him to the bed and under those fluffy sheets - at least, for a brief moment in time. He had only just begun to find some measure of ease within the embrace of those pillows before a singular name he'd never expected to leave her lips so tore his world in two. Tetradore was at the edge of the bed in moments, his thoughts entirely preoccupied with ways to save her from whomever Risque still held within her clutches to torment him. Regardless of her state of life or death, those that had once followed that vampire were still a threat to whatever he had created here - it was that knowledge of the souls that so idolized her that caused that decidedly sharp tone in the man's voice as he nearly demanded to know exactly where she'd heard that name from.

It was true that Tetradore often failed to explain his past in any great detail to any individual and yet, in truth, few had ever really bothered to ask him of it either. He was well aware there were rumors that floated through the ranks of the were community of the life he'd spent within the dance club but he had never cared enough to bother to correct them. After all, he knew well they didn't actually care of those hardships he endured - much less those he called family, Tobias had perhaps gained a glimpse of that world he endured but even then it had hardly been longer than a month within those walls before the were-king had staged his own escape. No - Samantha was the first soul who ever truly asked and he saw little reason to deny her that knowledge she seeked. He could feel her fingertips upon his back, pulling his thoughts away from the walls of that club he had been confined to for so long. Instead, Tetradore's emerald gaze slowly turned towards the woman as she kissed his shoulder, making some effort to explain exactly how she knew whom Risque was.

Tetradore's lips pursed together ever so slightly in consideration, the man hardly wanting her to relive, much less see some of those darker moments within his life under the hands of that cruel women - moments such as being chained to her bed in silver or the multitude of innocents he'd murdered for her pleasure. He buried such thoughts however, as immediately as he could, struggling to instead focus himself if only to control that which Samantha saw, even if it was a rather futile effort. He heard her efforts to relax him and yet. Tetradore could only shake his head ever so slightly, muttering softly, "There is no safety for me." It was, as hard as it might have been to understand, the utter truth. Until Risque was dead, if she was dead, he would forever be haunted, his steps tracked and traced so she could regain the man at her side once again. Still, Tetradore turned slightly on the bed towards her, positioning himself in such a way to still see the window from his periphery vision. "She came back for me - just like she always will." The words were muttered softly, the answer decidedly clear and yet perhaps not wholly as in-depth as she would have liked. Still, how did one explain the last nearly eighteen years of his life? Where would you even start?