The man could feel that pull deep inside of him, clawing to the surface despite Tetradore's resistance. How he tried to push the feline within him back down and yet, it was futile. It always was. Risque was stronger than him in every fashion - those hundreds of years she had upon him so evident as that cat all but engulfed his very willpower, demanding that shift from man to beast. His emerald eyes peered from the depths of the man's ebony form, his body moving against his will to his mistresses side only to settle at his haunches. That begging upon Isolt's lips hardly caused Risque's affinity to waver, only prompting a cruel simper upon the vampire woman's lips as she savored the very glimpse of despair upon Isolt's fair features. Oh, how Tetradore wished he could have so valiantly risen to defeat the villainous woman that had made his red-haired damsel! And yet, that role of a knight in brilliantly shining armor had never been his to play. He knew it all too well as the sharpened points of Risque's nails ran through his fur. That idle contemplation on Risque's lips was hardly considered by the man, at least, not at first. Although the vampiress relished within the terror she created, he'd hardly realized until it was too late that it was his gift she so wished to invoke.

That very affinity so abruptly rose to the surface in an uncontrollable fashion that Tetradore was so strikingly unused to as Risque's abilities for control all but left the feline gasping. How easily that fear rose its ugly head, and yet, Tetradore was incapable of doing so much as twitching in that very moment without Risque's permission. That purr on her lips prompted a panic within him, seizing his beating heart with the very knowledge of what Isolt would be beset with. How the very room itself would twist and warp into a cruel and callous rendition of those dark places Isolt feared the most. How his very visage would alter to take on a far more hideous and malicious facade. His gift for terror filled the room to the point that even the scent of it assaulted the once King's senses. He watched with eyes filled with forlorn remorse as her petite figure fellow to the weathered wooden floors beneath her, those once lovely blue irises so widened with the very terror that so greatly assaulted her. Those gasps that fell so weakly and feebly from his lips broke his heart, combined with the very knowledge that it was his affinity that so afflicted the woman he had cherished so deeply for so terribly long. Her gaze, however, never seemed to waver even but a moment from the depths of his own intensely vibrant irises, even though the man was left with merely the ability to stare back in an almost eerie fashion.

That sudden scream that filled the very air would no doubt reverberate within the Were-King's mind and in the depths of his own personal nightmares for months to come before her gaze is suddenly torn from his own with a glance he could only define as the stark realization that it was he and not their shared mistress that so brought the vampire to her knees. Her body all but crumpled in upon itself, his own feline instincts nearly viewing her as little more than prey in that vulnerable moment as her hands clasped over his ears. Such a consideration was one Tetradore was all too quick to stifle, even if he remained helpless to cease the unending waves of terror that so clutched at her. He was aware, near immediately, of the very way in which his affinity so seemed to falter, hardly afflicting Isolt in the same fashion as before. Those screams gave way to nearly maniacal laughter, her gaze but briefly glancing over him onto to settle upon Risque herself. He could feel the weight of his mistress' gaze upon him, his own head rose against his will only for his emerald eyes to meet her own. That sneer upon her lips hardly went unnoticed by the man, the very glimpse holding within its depths the threat of something sinister.

His gaze flickered immediately back towards Isolt at the woman's very blur of speed. Her movements alone were telling of her species as she closed the distance between them, her slender fingers curling into a fist only to collie quite abruptly into Risque's cheek. His eyes widened as Isolt's voice echoed in the depths of her own shrill laughter. That snarl upon Risque's lips was, perhaps, not surprising. He had seen very few actually get close enough to the vile woman to truly strike her. The were-feline remained still beneath the vampire's unyielding hold, even as he watched the events unfold before his gaze. That scent of blood so toyed with his senses and yet, he knew well that Isolt would never escape unscathed from the vampiric woman for what she had now done. He could feel his lips peeling back in an echoing snarl, just as his mistress so began to navigate with a predatory grace around the red-haired vampiress. Those words Risque uttered prompted a hiss upon his lips, the sound reverberating within his throat even if he was incapable of moving against his mistress in the slightest. As much as he abhorred it, Tetradore knew well that Risque was right. For how many years had he done her handiwork? How many years had he maimed and tortured and killed before Isolt had stumbled into the bar? He was everything that Risque had crafted him to be.

He was unsurprised, truly, that Risque chose to throw Isolt's own vulnerabilities back at her - attacking the same things she so often went after when it came to Tetradore himself. It was, quite simply, not safe to have companionship as long as Risque was alive. It was the very reason he had isolated himself for so long. He was unprepared for the way his own feet moved beneath him, his body bounding like a well-practiced marionette. His jaw parted, that salvia already coated with that acidic venom he could taste. How he strove to fight against her control! His very moments became slightly disjointed and yet, the forward momentum hardly ceased at all as he pounced towards the vampire he so adored, claws outstretched and teeth gleaming.