Oh how he bristled like an enraged beast! Just what would it take to tip him over that precarious ledge? his own power began to press against hers as if silently testing for control. But she was old, much older than he would ever see, she had much longer to sharpen her own nails on that abrasive surface called life, to grow the unnerving resolve that could withstand most beings on this entire planet. So many years to practice that cunning to weave her web of treachery. The same web Tetradore had found himself ensnared within, time and time again. But like a bug caught in her web he continuously tried to fight it, squirming and thrashing for freedom he would never achieve. Not while he was within he sticky web and exhaustion would surely come. The spider would soon have its meal, all it was.. was a matter of time.

That small little smile laced with lethal poison and knowing remained plastered upon her pristine face. She was a thing of ethereal beauty and hellish delight, that would never change so long as that preternatural grace flooded through her. He spoke his hatred like a teenager lashing his tongue. "I would hope so because I intend to make you." There was a nonchalant tone to that wicked statement loaded with promise of pain and anguish. His refined defiance met her own stare as if daring her to unleash her rage upon him. Oh, and fret not, she would unleash that fury upon him. She was not a creature to be baited by daring words and antagonizing mannerisms, she took it slow before she had you right where she wanted.

She never forgot them his weaknesses and past transgressions, she allowed them to fester into some putrid mix she would unleash on them in a violent tidal wave. She hardly seemed daunted by his sudden shift. At first, he was a frightened little mouse, she could hear the pitter patter of his heart and the anxiety that leaked through his pores. She must have struck a nerve. How.. cute. To most, Tetradore would seem terrifying, but she created him, created this honed creature that could slice down his enemies. Whether he wished to admit it or not, it was her hand that shaped him into her greatest masterpiece.

The vampire siren rose to her feet terrifyingly quick and perhaps more poised than the felines she controlled. She was an unmatchable killer, strong, fast, agile and she never tired. She shattered the distance between them, startling and controlled. She devoured his scent, feeling the heat that radiated from him like she could absorb it into herself. All the smells, individuals that lingered on his clothing and flesh. They were like ripe fruits for the taking. It was well within her influence to turn him on them all. But that was just too easy.

She dropped that name like a bomb allowing to let it explode within his mind with infinite dreadful possibility. The blue black viper seemed to have struck a nerve as his heart beat betrayed him further like a skittering ruby. It only made his blood seem more appetizing, she liked to taste him when he was bristling with fear and rage. Her piercing eyes devour him as she devoured her prey, how easy it would be to consume him now, to make him submit and frail underneath her intolerable pressure. How easy it would be to pierce that armored skin.

For a sliver of a moment he is silent, so silent as he mulled her conditions. She didn't use her sway on him to get that answer she wanted, she wanted him to come to that conclusion on his own. It was like a form of torture she knew he would despise every second in. Yet she let that power, a guillotine hanging precariously above his neck press against him like a purring cat rubbing its head. How effortless it would be to smash down those barriers to enslave him without choice. She seemed to stroke that connection just to remind him what remained, what always remained. Of course, there was a stipulation to such freedom if you could call it that.. Why would she make it where she got nothing in return. Especially when she could just take it from him anyways.

A shift in him as he coiled like the panther he was, ready to strike. He tensed, his hands balling to tight fists that he thought he could use against her. "Always the angsty cat.." She provoked, amusement littering her voice. She could turn off all that pain and anguish within him and yet she wouldn't. The ebony feline at Risque's side pressed up against Tetradore's thigh. She seemed to be ignored despite the way the feline looked up at him like he was her idol. His emerald eyes never strayed his vampire mistress and she never wavered underneath all that delicious hatred. His words sliced through the silence as he stepped forward so that his body pressed against hers. His voice sounded smooth like velvet as his fingers seemed almost gentle as lover's caress. She remained steadfast, eerily still like a statue made of porcelain. That tender touch moved down toward her neck as his musing voice. How he seemed more like her in this very moment in many ways. If only he could see it himself in the mirror of her eyes.

The vampire remained unfaltering even as those hands coiled around her slender neck. Twisted, dark amusement danced within her hypnotic eyes as he basked in his upper hand. Poor little feline, to think he could ever have the advantage. He was the fool, the beautiful fool. If only he knew, knew the true peril he was in. If only he knew the truth of his own fragile reality and how he actually ended up in her manipulative hands in the first place. He drew out his words as if toying with her and, in all actuality, it only made her bored, her eyes beckoning as if asking for him to get along with it so the games could truly begin. She twisted within his grip to get out the words. "Oh, darling, you poor ill-informed soul." Perhaps she would have truly pitied him if were capable of such. He squandered his opportunity for a somewhat peaceful resolve the moment he tried to dominate her. The things she would do to him. She was a nightmare incarnate.

She smiles at him, a sadistic smile as she allows him to have this little victory. She laughed relishing in that devilish delight, soundlessly as her body vibrated with it as no sound escaped it as he tried to suffocate the dead. "We can play all you want but it won't make a difference." She attempted to get out but those strong hands were so tight against her pale neck as though he could squeeze the life out of her. Sticks and stones may break her bones but whips and chains, well they were just plain electrifying.

Oh Tetradore, so emotional even as he fought it was all based on potent emotion. It practically oozed out of him, even with those sickly sweet words. Those slender hands shot out to reach for his own nech, that silver razor sharp nailed, lined with velvet upon her dainty finger dug into his jugular. She wanted him to bleed and burn, to watch it trickle down his neck in a fascinating way that would only make her hunger pique. With her own strength she presses into him, her hand digging deeper, enough to possibly make his own grip soften. "We both know how this turns out, mon chat." The sensual poisoned honey of her words fell from those plush lips. What was the meaning of insanity? Repeating the same thing expecting different results. Her power used to control him, those invisible binding chains she began tugging as a faint reminder. Yet there is a sadistic devilishness welcoming in her eye, as if she wanted to see that passion of hatred unleashed on her.

"Come on.. show me what I taught you."

Risque

just face the moon and put your death mask on