His jaw was still red from where her hand had slapped him, that slice in his cheek from her fingernail was slowly in the process of healing, the blood she'd draw crusting on that caramel skin. Tetradore kept glancing over his shoulder as he moved quickly down the street and away from that nondescript building. Escaping her was impossible. He'd never been so wrong in his life as he had been the moment he'd thought she was dead. That defiance, that unwavering strength all but crumbled within him as that adrenaline slowly from it's coursing through his veins. He wanted nothing more than to fall in his bed at the Ark, tucked in those sheets behind closed doors and metal walls and fall apart in all the ways he surely could have away from unseeing eyes. As much as he would have liked to, he was hardly the only being she'd surely come back for. There was still another whom he'd dragged within this mess that deserved that forewarning he had never gotten. The number of places where that auburn haired vampire would be were extremely limited when she was not with him. Maybe he would be enough to keep her safe where Tetradore had all but failed. He ducked down the nearest alleyway, glancing once again over his shoulder before he beckoned to those shadows that so rushed forward to embrace his form, stealing the Alpha from that west he'd once viewed as his sanctuary only to deposit the man on the porch of that Eastern townhome.

He paused on that overly cheery doormat, those emerald eyes once again sliding down the street in a clearly paranoid fashion. How could he not be, truly? His vampire mistress was back and her creatures had a way of being everywhere. He knew what it was like in that hell hole he'd quite near just crawled from. He refused to go back and yet, as much as he hated to admit it, she had let him go. She only did so for a reason, certainly not out of some mock display of kindness. Maybe that whole purpose of his escape was to find where Isolt was too? Though, he doubted that Risque was not fully capable of that herself if the desire suited her. After all, she had found him easily as it was. That pheonix around his neck felt far more heavy now that he knew of it's origins, much less that leather collar that still was shoved in the folds of his pockets. The were King could hardly help the shudder that ran down his spine at the memory of all of it.

Slowly, his fist raised to the door, knocking gently upon that thick wood before he leaned back against the wall of that little alcove. The man tried to focus upon his breathing, on that simple rise and fall of his chest and yet, his emerald eyes never once left the street, hardly wishing to afford anyone the chance to catch him by surprise. His head turned towards the door at the slightest sound of that door knob before that beautiful Isolt was left standing before him. God how he remembered how she'd looked that night she'd entered the dance club. She'd been so uncomfortable in that corset like top, so removed from her element and yet, so lovely that she'd draw him to her in a near magnetizing fashion. She was still everything he'd ever wanted and yet, everything that he was never meant to have. Rather than those sweet hellos that so often left his lips, the sight of her prompted one singular question, the only hope that he was still relying on - "Is Damon still in town?"