Was it truly a victory when the only one losing was Tetradore? If victory was determined by the man's very torment, the very way he bent and broke for her than truly that man had never forged a victory a day in his life. How she would never tire in possessing that currency. How quickly he seemed to forget and how easy it was to remind him what would happen. It was an art in which she would never tire for, like an itch you can't quite scratch, a thirst you cannot quench. "I think I must have... because it would seem you have lost your voice, mon chat." The amusement shown within those amused words, amused in the way that a cat bats a mouse. That power collided with him, a heavy blow assaulting his very being. She was not gentle, no not anymore, the impact was a like hitting the ground from a freefall decent from the 5th story. She had just about enough of this renewed sense of rebelliousness. What did he think would happen? Truly, he must have already been so painfully aware that she could merely take what she wanted from him? What delusions befell the man to think he could disrespect her in such a manner? More than ever before. It would seem, she would need to break him from the ground up, to relay that foundation he had seemed too keen on obliterating. How much harder it would be on him. Ah, but that silence that gripped him was intoxicatingly lovely, those biting words stripped from him. How it also seemed to disturb the woman who lay so helplessly upon her desk. Those pale calculating eyes flicker downward for barely a second her mind singing, pay attention girl. This was a lesson for them both.

Tetradore was like her butterfly with his wings pinned and he is unable to fly. His desperation to remain entirely poised was near admirable. That resolve had been the best and most irritating of wills she had ever seen in a man! But how she knew that resolve had its limits and she almost desires to keep pressing it until it shattered, shoving him toward that veritable end. How long would it take? Would it be moments away from death before that the composure finally left him? Or would it be when sense prevailed before then?

It was just a twist away, she could feel it, before she felt his surrender. How she wanted to pluck it from him, offered or stolen, it hardly mattered. She was sure to taste that panic beneath his skin in due time, to season that potent alpha blood to her perfection. Unfortunately, now was not the time for her own desire. No, she had that pesky little maggot to toy with tonight. With that casual, indifference she moves near sensually, taking her time to open her drawer, leaving the man there, hanging, gaping without the relief of breath. How potent that assault was a reminder that he was hers, completely. That ultimately, she could make him her puppet as she saw fit. How she relished in letting that sink in, along with that raven-haired girl upon her desk.

Perhaps she should have just killed her, that would have been a kindness. There were things so much worse than death and that very woman would learn it, so intimately. Of all she had done, she would make her hers if only to make her suffer. She wove her orders toward Tetradore, to simply hold on to that blade until later. There was an ominous potency to those words, a slight foreboding hint to the future that lay ahead for the trio in that room and Risque was its skilled conductor.

After stealing that taste and once she was sure Tetradore was in a more receptive mood to her commands as she ordered Harley upon that wall. How those feeble protests and hard words tossed helplessly at Risque's feet, useless trinkets that they were. What a venomous little snake she was, but she was all but defanged in the vampire's presence and soon, she would have no choice but to obey like all those other felines before and after her. Those silver manacles that Tetradore so skillfully placed around the woman's wrist would soon bite at her flesh, soon that defiance would flee from her gemstone eyes, soon that defiance would be lain to rest. All those reasons why her brother had a soft spot for the girl would be stripped from her and left to rot in a pile of trash with the rest of the discarded. She would have her use, nothing more than a slave to serve the vampires she so despised so much, the very vampires that had stolen everything from her. Soon, she would find out that there was so much more left to lose. One day.

Harley launched herself at her, only to be near violently jerked back into place, a rabid dog on a lead, snarling like one too. How her Tetradore could hardly give a care in the world even though he is now a spectator, watching what was once a similar torment to his own. How she enjoyed watching the strong one's crumble to her feet, so much like her emerald eyed panther would. That resilient little human woman would be no difference, perhaps easier to fall that that stoic man. After releasing her choking hold from the girl, Risque plunged her fangs into her tender throat. There was something so very predatory to the way she resolutely took hold of her fragile neck, but how easy it was to prematurely end a human's fragile life, as pitiful as it were. How she felt that singing of her pulse echoing in her mouth, just a little harder and that feverish pulse would be gone. Each four fangs injected her venom in Harley's throat, enjoying that sweet taste as it eagerly flooded her mouth with that thickly sweet ruby honey. What was even better, the woman who with the loud mouth simply had no more words to share.. not more curses to muster.

It was Harley's mention of her brother that has her crimson lips quirk into sneer. Her powers ensnare Tetradore resolutely, he had been far too idle for her liking. His vibrant emerald eyes seemed to land upon her, silently. Good, now she had his attention. She would suffer and it would be Tetradore's hand to execute it. That diamond, glittering blade still within Tetradore's possession. How his expertise would shine and the enjoyment of watching that obsidian hued woman suffer, seemed far too appealing to pass up. At least for a little while.

Risque steps aside to allow her pet to do what he is so good at, even despite he puts on that act that he was indifferent, that he hated this very charade, he could not deny he was one of the best. With that blade glinting ominously within his adept hand, Risque backs up to get that view. How she truly enjoyed watching her panther worked, even though he detests it so! Yet how quick he is to simply go to work, sliding that blade within the girls skin like it was nothing more than butter. How Harley cursed at him, confused by those hallucinations caused from that venom and that striking, get wrenching pain that assaults her. That blood so easily drips from her, wasted upon that ground beneath the girl's feet. Tetradore seemed to work easily enough to avoid the most of that spatter. That hunger floods the she-devil's pale eyes, as she leans up against her desk that so purposely faced that very wall of silver chains. The office flooded with those insults, that slur of words that seem lost in that pain and visions.

It sadly surprisingly enough did not take long for that flesh to be offered to her, still slick with wet crimson glinting in that dimly lit room. Risque produced that wooden box upon her desk, opening it before climbing from her perch to allow her panther to place it within it. Her pound of flesh, but that was not her only price she would take tonight. "She is quite the mouth one isn't she?" Risque nearly coos in her sick amusement, examining that carved flesh, still dripping in blood upon the ground, unceremoniously. She examines that near perfect line, how impressive how smoothly he sliced away before snapping that box shut.

"Oh, Tetradore.. You are quite good at what you do.." That voice near singsong, she was enjoying herself. She drew closer to him, wrapping her hand around that hilt of that ornate blade, firmly to take it from him. She ran her tongue slowly along it tasting that blood like a lollipop. How silent that girl was now, hanging there helplessly, her head slung forward and gloriously speechless.

She places that box back upon her desk before she assaults him a final time with precision, with her power to be certain that it was done. "Bite her, turn her, butcher her if you want. Just make it hurt mon chat. I have other matters to attend to.. I do wish to see you again this week.. we still have much to... discuss, like why you healed so quickly. I should like to experiment.. When you are done with the little maggot, take her with you, I have seen about enough of that loudmouthed insect.. Throw her in a ditch somewhere when you are done. I do not care what you do.. just see to it that she survives long enough until her first shift, then we will see how much fight she has left. I will take it from there." Oh the plans she had in store for that fiery girl.

Uncerimoniously, the vampire turns on her heels and she accends into her room, to prepare for the other festivities she had planned for tonight.

Risque

just face the moon and put your death mask on