Tetradore did not seemed too pleased with how she dismissed the notion of someone powerful enough to kill her. Which was entirely unsuprising. She had heard it all before and in the short time that the two of them have been together perhaps he had not seen what she had overcome over the centuries, that this little saviour of his would amount like the rest. In her malevolent eyes Tetradore had become weaker in her absence, unable to do what was needed to be done. He would not make the same mistake again, not with her around to spread her venom within her reluctant panther, to make him strong again. How dare he think this creature that bested him could best her too! Did he not remember all the foes that were seemingly more powerful than the vampire and have failed, time and time again? Truly, he must have grown lax with his delusions and fairy tale existence. If he could come after her and win, than where was he? Where was this great slayer? Perhaps it just wasn't worth the risk. Had he truly forgot the formidable foe she truly was?

Her death would only bring mayhem, she ensured it. Mayhem so great that perhaps the world would need to recover for many years to come. Perhaps she was the proverbial pandora's box. A knowing gleam crept upon the wicked vampire's face. Maybe it wasn't such a terrible idea after all. The thought of that potent destruction she could deploy on this city was amusing to her. There was so much Tetradore didn't know and it was almost sweet the way he thought he could prevail against her.

He rubbed his now tender mark she left behind from her hefty slap, only a hint of the havoc she could inflict upon him. She knew just where to break, where to slice, where to burn to break a man and the most potent ingredient of them all was patience. His defiance right in this very moment was so very tempting to relish in the beauty of this blood that could drip from him. She held the key to him in the palm of her hands. Only he did not realise it yet. One day he would come to terms that it was futile to fight her. But then again his fight is what made him even more appealing to the sadistic soulless woman. In such a twisted way the bitterness that spewed from him feeds that already immeasurable ego. A petite smirk finds those crimson lips a hum of satisfaction bubbles from her like a cat. He tried to hurt her with those words but in fact, it did the opposite. His death was worth the cost of hers. She nearly laughed, those stone cold eyes contained that sadistic delight. "Oh Tetradore, you flatter me so." What he thought was hatred still burned so strong within him like a blazing inferno. He certainly was incredibly passionate even without the leverage he thought he had. "It still won't change anything, but still." She sighed as if bored.

His blazing hatred was just a potent and desirable as passion itself. After all, they all stem from the same thing. Do they not? Ah such precarious fine lines we dance upon, satan's very barbed wire tightrope. How she tiptoes like a sensual ballerina upon that very hell maw that desires to consume her.

It was then her cold slender hand reaches out for him, gentle and sweet like a lovers butterfly caress. Their eyes locked in an unspoken battle, but to any onlookers it would almost seem like a longing stare. She felt the heat from the inflicted pain she offered him. She liked to wound him, to feel the pain she had caused him, to share the gift she had been given. She wanted him malleable and like clay within her talon-like fingertips.

His defiance still radiates off him like heat and how appetizing it was. All she wanted to do was simply devour that flavour and yet she taunts him with that ability making him wonder what her next action was. She relished in the heat of his body against the coldness of hers, feel his life's heart beat when she possessed none. He chooses to not say a word about keeping insurance on his life with that phoenix amulet. Did she hit a nerve?

He was so different than the man that chose to save her undead life all those years ago and yet as much as he would hate to know he was still so very much the same. In his own sick way, this strange and unexplainable twisted union has taken a toll on the man and his inner psyche. Even after he thought she died, did she not still exist within his mind? Where she was a ghoul to haunt him, to in a way alter his very present? There was an urge within her to see his blood, the delicacy that thrummed through his body. His life force that she often devoured, relishing in that unique taste and unparalleled heat. It was no doubt that he was her favourite. Her favourite to use, to rip to shreds, to play with, to torment.

That silver talon daintily worn upon her finger, bit into the flesh of his cheek. The movement was quick like snake striking. The point was sharp like a panther's nail. It left a fine scalpel precise line of red. A delicate dribble threated to spill from the minor wound she caused. The red that painted the silver of her trinket she wore was so tempting to bring to her lips. She wanted to see red, his red. It was pure impulse driving her now, that sadistic desire that left her transfixed. Those emerald eyes watched her keenly. An eyebrow shot up as he asked her if she missed his taste.

Would he be here if there were not aspects she craved? His blood was certainly one of them. She could practically taste his defiance in that delicious cocktail he possessed within his veins. "You know the answer to that." She cooed to him, the words like silken fur on flesh. Her fangs grew larger, more prominent as impulse lured her to embed them into his juicy neck. "Don't you worry your head, I will have you again my saccharine feline." The sensual promise oozes from her sultry parted lips. She would taste that blood once more, but not tonight. Some things could not be rushed, despite that allure to drag her tongue across that fresh wound upon his face. How he managed to remain so stoic only made her want to splinter his resolve more. It would take time, but one day he would come around.

The moment was soon shattered into a million tiny shards of her hot temper. That oppressive power showered like poised needles down around him hard and pummeling, a reminder of what he had been so long without. It would seem threats were not enough. How she pelted at his resolve, knowing it peeled away reluctantly. Eventually those knees buckled before her, she could feel him fighting every step of the way and yet she overcame it, much like she did time and time again. How she missed him at her feet, he looked good this way on his knees before her. A hypnotising chuckle slips from her lips. How she met those defiant eyes with a casual indifference.

She knew each time would become easier than the last, he would tumble down that slow, slippery decent into being hers once more. He was already within her cage, only he didn't realise it yet. "This will have to do for now." She purred, the flash of that predatory nature flashing ominously within her eyes. Then after a moment of consideration. " I know you think that now, but one day you will come to see things my way, my pet. You bite, I bite harder. But you know that's how I like it my defiant Tettypoo." There was almost a longing in her voice, a sick satisfaction thrummed to life within her. She ran her fingers through his thick brown hair, tugging at it to lift him back up. She was impressed with the way he fought her, she enjoyed that threat of challenge when everything else was so easy. She pulled at his hair so that he would rise, her grip moving to the back of his head tightly laced within the threads of his hair. She pulled him closer, almost too close so she could see the intricate lines in his eyes, lines she had no doubt put there.

Risque spoke with her power laced within her words, her words like poisoned honey. He would have no choice but to obey. "You will come to me in two days time. I want a proper greeting then and then and only then I will mark you. Don't you ever forget that you are mine and always will be. So long as your heart beat still beats you can't escape me." There was a promise and venomous bite to those words, uttered so low that they were almost a sensual whisper. One day he will come to realise them as she dismantled him brick by brick. She pulled him closer, her crimson lips almost brushing against his yet the coldness of her would radiate from her. Her tongue darted out, tasting the tender skin of his lips for but a second before releasing him entirely as though it never happened.

Oh she bet he wished he stayed home tonight, even though the inevitability of the very existence of her was bound to catch up with him one way or another.

Risque

just face the moon and put your death mask on