The Were-King had desperately hoped that this time, things would be different. Though his last meeting with his vampiric mistress had gone abysmally, he had so wishfully believed that, maybe, the fact she had not bound him to Synyster was indication that she had grown bored of him. It had been naive of him to hope for any glimpse of light amongst the eternal dimness of his life, and yet, he continued to all the same. That call had been forceful and demanding, harder to fight then before. Perhaps it had been due to the renewal of their blood bond, or maybe just her needs had been far more imperative. Either way, it was inevitable for the Alpha to return to the dance club he so abhorred, even if it had changed buildings from his youth. So much of it was still strikingly the same. Tetradore had regarded her with cool indifference upon his arrival. His very features had returned that apathy as she had draped herself over him, her sharpened nails so lightly toying with the flesh on his neck, clearly checking to ensure some mark from her teeth remained upon his shoulder. He had taken some satisfaction in the way his caramel flesh had healed, the sheer rapidness of it thanks entirely to Matteo's own magic. He hadn't been prepared for the way her teeth abruptly dug into flesh, prompted a grunt from his lips and wince and yet, this time, her bite came neither with the plethora of venom nor the taking of blood. It was merely a mark to claim him and with that, she had been sedated, if only for far grandeur plans that lingered upon her thoughts. Thoughts Tetradore had been less than thrilled about.

Harley. Her very name had prompted a frown on his features. He was certainly no stranger to the woman, much less exactly what her relationship was to his beloved Isolt. He could only assume Risque's interest within the woman was in some effort to punish the vampire child that had so stood up to her maker. Tetradore had known it would come back to bite her, just as it did him every single time. It was, he was certain, a cruel twist of fate that Risque had sent him to retrieve Harlequin. He was certain that, this time, Isolt would not be so keen to forgive him when he assisted in so ravaging her closest of friends. It was, certainly not the first time that Risque had taken an interest in Harley and yet, with the sudden callous ruthlessness his Mistress had taken on, Tetradore could hardly help the fear that this would be the last time. His lips pressed together in a small frown, his hand balled into a fist at his side as he stared at his reflection in the darkened windows of the luxury sedan he was supposed to take. The keys were nestled in his hand and yet, at the present moment, Tetradore merely stood in front of it, testing the very limits of that command Risque had forced upon him. The compulsion tore at him from the inside, bouncing around in the inside of his brain. The longer he stood there, the more it filled his every thought, creating an almost pulsing, pounding pain in his head when he failed to comply.

A soft sigh left his lips as his hand unclenched, only to massage gently at his temples. He reached to open the door with his free hand, getting in to the car that was so aptly named after his own species. Risque had probably purchased it sheerly for the amusement of having him drive it. It was the exact sort of lame humor the woman would have. He rolled his eyes as his gaze shifted over the console and leather interior, tossing the rope he held into the passenger's seat. He could hardly deny that it was a pretty car, however. After all, it was entirely due to her that Tetradore had found his own appreciation for those luxury vehicles. The very speed of them so coaxing at his soul. His key fit into the ignition, the engine rolling over to purr beneath his hands. Tetradore shifted the vehicle into drive, letting it slowly creep forward an onto the familiar streets of Sacrosanct. Risque had given him her address, the woman's flat not terribly far from Synyster and well within the Were-King's own territory. It was unfortunate, perhaps, that he was so well known within these parts. The heavy rock music blared through his speakers, the man purposefully turned it up, letting those lyrics drown out the command that uttered over and over in his thoughts - 'Bring me Harley.'. God, he had not missed this part of being Risque's...pet. How he hated the word.

The vehicle slowed to a stop in front of Harley's home, the rope tossed over his shoulder as he moved towards the front door. On the plus side, at least kidnapping wasn't murder, he supposed. Tetradore leaned against the door frame of the home, his fist knocking on the door. He could hear the barking of a puppy inside, the very sound prompted his lips to purse together. Great. He was going to have to deal with a dog too. Tetradore watched as the door slid open, leaving him staring at the purple eyes of Harley - and didn't she just look happy to see him. His foot easily moved towards between the door as the woman made an effort to slam it closed on him. He hardly waisted time in throwing his own weight on it, forcing his way into her home only to let the door close behind him. Thank God she didn't still live with Isolt. His gaze turned briefly towards the fuming woman, before he nodded to the sleek black car that waited on the curb for them. "There's not a good chance I can merely convince you to come with me, is there?" He inquired, at least trying to find a less...physically forceful way to complete his task.