Tetradore knew well there was distinctly little damage his human flesh could bestow upon her immortal body. His grip would never be tight enough, his nails paled in comparison to those dagger-like claws, his teeth were not meant for piercing and tearing. There was but one option open to him, to skewer her beating heart, to puncture and destroy that only organ of any great importance. That tightness around her throat was meant only to properly maneuver her to some place that might hold her long enough for him to find anything capable of rupturing her heart. That sickening grin upon her features hardly dissuaded the man, even in spite of that clear amusement she took from his efforts. Her laughter was absent of sound and yet, he could feel her throat contracting in an effort to let those raspy sounds of her laughter past his suffocating hold. Though he pushed her backward, largely hindered by the woman, he knew she would hardly let him continue unchecked, just as he too knew his chance of failure was particularly high. Even so, Tetradore hadn't anticipated the sudden supernatural speed at which she reached out, her slender fingers grasping the caramel skin of his own throat in return.

The silver on her nail dug into his flesh, burning his skin as it pierced, leaving blood in its wake. He flinched from the searing pain of it and yet, his grip hardly tarried, not when he was so close. Tetradore was aware of the scent of his own blood, just as he was aware of the intense way in which her eyes seemed to stare at that trickle that continued down towards his collarbone. That crushing hold, however, was what garnered the majority of his attention. Her grasp upon him so steadfast that he was quickly left gasping for air. Vaguely, he was aware of her affinity as it so stroked that inner animal, testing those very bonds of control she had upon him all over again. He tried to ignore it, all of it. He tried to merely focus on the task at hand, the burning of the silver against his palm served to ground him at that moment, even as he reached to wrap that dangling silver collar around her slender throat. That snarl upon her mouth brought a hint of satisfaction to him, even as one hand went to his own throat, desperately trying to pull her fingers away from his neck. His other hand reached out for her desk, searching for something with a sharp enough point to pierce through flesh and muscle and organ.

He was entirely inattentive to that feline within the room, even despite his knowledge of her. He hadn't viewed her as a threat, the woman far too meek and timid to hold a candle in comparison to the Western Alpha. Even now, in that desperate search for something to utilize, he hardly allowed his gaze to shift from Risque, his hand surely knocking over several items off her desk. The feline was silent upon her pads, even despite the hesitance and lack of desire or control she had. It was too late, by the time he registered her presence. Te were-King was already left gasping for breath, Risque's voice toyed with him, promising that what he was searching for, he would not find there, not easily. A frown marred his lips and yet, he was hardly prepared for the impact of the petite panther. Her jaws sunk into his forearm, those powerful teeth ripping through flesh to bring a wave of blood from his veins. His lips parted, that cry of pain only natural, even if it was little more than a wheezing sound. He tried to pull out of the feline's grasp, his own grip upon his maker forced to be released as he used his hands to attempt to pry her jaws from his arm.

He felt her fingers tighten around his neck at that moment, forcing his emerald eyes back towards her with a sort of desperate look in the very depths. He knew, logically, that she could kill him, just as he knew that, with that feathered necklace around his neck, he would return like the Phoenix he was. All of this, however, hardly helped the way his body so naturally reacted to that loss of air, the were-King all but gasping for any breath she might allow him, that fight against the feline near leaving him at that moment. A lack of air made him wholly weak. Though his mind still strove to fight, his body was simply incapable of answering those demands. That command caused his attention to refocus upon her and yet, before he could whisper even a syllable of rebelliousness, it was her power that collided into him like a veritable tsunami, all but attempting to bury his self-control. Though Tetradore had gotten strong in the year he'd spent apart from her, so too had she. Risque, after all, had infinitely more time to hone those skills. His attempts to thwart her always failed, where that power over his body was concerned. Even now, he found his hand slowly raising, reaching to give in to her demands.

His hands trembled as he tried to fight against that control she took from him. It had been too long since Tetradore had fallen under her sway, too long since he'd fought her. He almost forgot how to latch onto focusing on those small movements. It wasn't enough, no matter what he did, none of it was enough to keep his fingers from reaching out to touch that silver he had changed her with, even despite the blood running down his arm, in spite of that panther, of the spots that appeared in his vision and the breath he struggled to take, in spite of it all his fingers still reached for that latch. It took far longer to undo it then it had to originally place it on her, that fighting only prolonging his contact with the silver as it burned his flesh. In the end, however, that lock was unlatched, that collar falling from her neck only to leave Tetradore staring up at her, his arms simply resting at his side as he tried to focus on that simple act of breathing. He would not die here tonight, not again. He may have to concede that she had won this fight but he was hardly willing to give in to her whims entirely, even in spite of all he knew he was up against and all he knew would come in the wake of his blatant defiance.