The very mention of that demure vampire Tetradore harbored such affections for prompted him to pause within his steps. His hesitation hardly seemed to last any longer than a mere moment as those words of dismal acceptance were uttered upon his lips. That probing inquiry from the feisty woman caused him to shake his head ever so slightly, the Were entirely aware of just how she was stalling. "Because Risque wants you." He responded, his steps once again began their forward prowl, altogether aware that she would surely fight his simple statement. She was hardly likely to understand, just in the same way that Isolt too didn't understand the very hold that Risque had over him. They thought it was his choice. They thought he merely accepted her callous commands. Over the years, he had begun to realize that rebelling each and every one was damn near exhausting. He chose his fights now, even though Isolt and Harley would think lesser of him for it. Neither woman, after all, saw those times he rebelled so greatly that he had to be dragged back to Syn. Nor did they see the aftermath of those evenings and the state he was often left within. Harley was, unfortunately, a battle not worth bleeding for. Not when she was a consequence for both Isolt and himself. It was better to merely accept this, especially if it kept Risque's attention from Tobias thanks to his escape effort just days prior.

The Were-King hardly displayed any true interest at the French words that left her lips. Quite on the contrary, the man regarded her with little more than a shrug as he continued forward, at least, until the puppy so keenly started nipping at his heels. The puppy alone served as a distraction for the Were-King, causing him to lean down to lift the small dog in the air by the scruff on the back of his neck. With those teeth bared and small paws dangling, Tetradore inquired for some way to momentarily distract the small dog, hardly wanting to do it any sort of damage in the altercation that would soon be sure to come. Though Tetradore was often regarded as little more than Risque's callous pet - there was no denying, at least to himself, that he had change, somewhat. He caught the bag of dog treats that was tossed towards his face near effortlessly. Gingerly, Tetradore placed the small dog back on all fours before he tore open the zip lock seal on the bag, tossing several of those small treats to the floor to occupy the little puppy while Tetradore busied himself with the dog's owner. His simple declaration that he hardly had a choice seemed to prompt the same sort of disbelief that Isolt had on the topic, only confirming his thoughts. He said little of her anger or the roll of her eyes, instead merely moving forward with the intention of seeing through the task given to him.

The fork she positioned in front of her caused his eyebrow to raise ever so slightly, his hand quickly encircled her wrist, saving himself from being stabbed by a bloody fork. Her strength was, admittedly, rather pathetic in comparison to the Were fighter. Her efforts to escape was little more than flailing as she threw her weight into her attempts to pull away from him. Tetradore stepped forward just enough to better tighten his grasp on her. The rope was already nestled in his hands as he bound her wrists with tight precision. Tetradore all but ignored the curse words spat at him, having heard his fair share of expletives thrown in his direction. He'd been told before he was a wide array of degrading terms, it was all nothing new by now. Several of her kicks collide into his upper thigh, barely missing those far more sensitive areas and yet, they hardly compared to what he had endured in the past. Tetradore merely grit his teeth, ignoring her sarcasm. "Sorry about your sex life." He apologized half-heartedly as he began to guide her towards the sofa. Her inevitable defeat only seemed to further the girl's fury. She swung her bound hands, attempting to swing the rope in his face. Her feet returned to their kicking spree, aiming as high as she could. Tetradore made every effort to protect those far more sensitive areas before the mad simply got fed up, all but tossing her onto the sofa.

The Were-King used his own superior weight to pin her beneath him, already working on binding together her legs. His attentiveness to that task alone made the man all the more oblivious to her sheer desperation as her skull collided into his. "Jesus fucking Christ, Harley." His hand rose to his head as his gaze turned back towards her with a scowl. That had actually hurt! A small grimace crossed his feature as he shifted in a position that provided him the capability to throw more of his own weight upon her, the man quick to finish those bindings. He stood over her, one hand gently still rubbing his skull where her own head had slammed into his. After that migraine from putting off Risque's command, this hardly helped. The glare he was given by the young woman caused his own eyebrow to raise ever so slightly. "I don't know, was it really necessary to bash your head into mine? What are you, a fucking ram?" He complained, watching her as she attempted to toss a piece of hair out of her face. For a moment, his emerald eyes simply eyed the woman before, slowly, his hand reached down towards the rim of her shirt, lifting it only enough to see those scars he remembered leaving upon her petite frame.

Tetradore was, admittedly, discovering a particular talent for utterly disregarding the woman as she all but spat at him. Her piercing words hardly stopped his fingers from gingerly reaching out to caress that raised skin, even as the woman squirmed beneath his touch in the very same way that he so tended to do with Risque. The realization caused his hand to abruptly pull away as Harley threatened to kill him. "You're welcome to try." The Were-King responded softly, truly, he almost would have welcomed the embrace of death. If only it was so easy for him to find. Tetradore hardly let those dismal thoughts linger, however, before his emerald eyes turned towards the small dog happily eating those treats upon the floor. He was hardly surprised the disdain his inquiry was met with and yet, Tetradore remained silent while she sighed, resigning herself to give him a truthful answer. His head bobbed ever so slightly as she continued and though she couldn't finish those words, Tetradore was more than willing to offer her a glimpse of understanding. "I'll ensure he's taken care of." The man promised her as he reached down for the woman. "I'm sure it's pointless to ask you not to kick me but..." His own voice trailed off as a small shrug crossed his shoulders, the man pausing just enough to lift her now bound frame into his arms and up over his shoulder.

Tetradore led the way out towards the care, careful to ensure he navigated the woman's house with care less she hit herself on...well...something. It was only out in the cold dark air that Tetradore opened the back door of the car, all but tossing the woman into the back passenger seat. It was only once the door was closed that he found himself taking a soft breath in the much-needed quietness. God, he wished tonight was not going to go down as awfully as he was certain it would. Unfortunately, the more time he took to meet his mistress' whims, the more his head pounded - no thanks to Harley. He shook his head only to run his hand through his brunette locks before Tetradore pulled open the driver's side door, sliding into his seat.