From that small incision she made with that silver-tipped talon finger pressing firmly against his neck he bled. She watched with sick satisfaction as that liquid trickled down the caramel expanse of his skin. That ruby red ichor slides so tauntingly slow, it had been too long since she had tasted his very life essence. How much had time changed in him, changed his taste? How badly she wanted to just rip out his heart, to let her tongue ravage its contours to simply taste and feast on the very liquid from that vital source. Would that necklace she procured bring him back after that? Hm. To die and come back again, over and over again made her thrum with sick delight.

But not now. Not with his irritating hold on her neck. She could bat him away like one shoos an irritating fly and yet she is morbidly curious how close he would dare to bring her to death. Part of her enjoys this strange new game with her Tetradore. He was like a renewed source of undiluted dominance, someone strangely different and yet he is so very much the same man. The same weaknesses, the same predictability. Yet he had changed greatly from the young boy she shaped with expert hands. But now he is death kissed.

All he needed was time to grow into this, and all he would need is for her to return him into that magnificent splendor on impenetrable wicked cruelty. A perfect weapon. The she-devil was irritated by the fact she could barely speak with his hand encasing her neck. Such savagery, she was impressed, sort of. With her hypnotic voice, it would be so much easier to toy with him, to push him off that proverbial ledge. How she yearned to stoke that shadowy fire within him, how she wanted to see those striking feral emerald eyes looking back at her.

So much hatred, so much angst. It was delicious.

She was like a cobra when she strikes, choking him from his own precious oxygen. Only he needed that air to breathe, he needed oxygen, while she only needed it to talk. She could wait like this all night for him to attempt something new to entertain her. But we all know, Risque got far too bored when games grew stale. She toys with that invisible, primal line between his human side and his feline. It would be too easy to watch his eyes go vacant with the shift and yet she only flirts with the idea of it. How distracting it must be, to feel that most feral, intimate place be toyed with on a vacillating whim.

With his last card being placed on the table, she allows the silver collar to be placed around her slender throat. It sizzled and burned, inflaming her skin, but she relished in that pain, tended to it. Welcomed it, despite it being entirely vexing. She seems to test her restraint, inquisitive at how well it worked. It was a rare thing that she would allow herself to be on this end of their game. If only it lasted long enough to matter.

Only she knew Tetradore thought he was gaining the advantage. If only he played the role she yearned for so she could bathe fully in that savagery. She had given him his chance and he squandered it, any fire he lit within died. He almost seems almost desperate now, searching for that weapon and it's adorable. She nearly draws an exasperated, bored sigh while he knocks off items from her desk, making a mess while seeking for the sharp object he desires. All while it was simply staring him in the face, but she didn't want him knowing that.

Now it was time for the true feline queen to come out and play.

It was time for the vampire to relinquish control, with sensual finesse. Let's be honest, she was better at it than him. The blue-black haired siren uses her powers to send that other feline in the room after the distracted Tetradore. Remember her? The one that Tetradore seemed content to ignore. Or maybe it was the lack of oxygen from her own grip tightening around his neck that made him get so sloppy. She could feel his own grip weaken, just enough to swallow enough air to speak. He would not find the weapon he desired, at least not where he was looking, silly Tetty, he should have come better prepared. But who could be prepared for her? Not many, if any.

Her feline pet launched to sink her polished piercing teeth within the tender flesh of Tetradore's arm. The muscular arm that dared to still pin Risque even despite the leopard that attacks it. The young feline felt terribly conflicted, you could see it in her sweet little eyes, something that seemed much like pain and yet she had no choice but to surrender to her mistress's desires. That look of pain struck his handsome features, how glorious he looked with no shielded mask he so wore. The pain was tangible. He could barely make out that garbled yell, a wheezing pitiful sound. So much blood, it called to her. Yet the stupidly brave man still clung to her neck, even as her leopard chewed on his arm.

She listened to his rhythmic, broken breaths just before she slams her power into him, 'release me' it hisses within his mind, a haunted sensual whisper filled with promise and power. She freed the leopard from her spell. It was enough to make the female leopard recoil and skitter across the room to find a spot in the corner, cowering. The leopard hardly wanted to harm Tetradore, she liked him, she wanted him to stay. But not like this.. She began carefully licking her paws, trying to get that taste of blood from her mouth. Why couldn't Tetty just behave and let Risque do what she needed to do? Life wasn't that bad here, or so the timid girl thought. Then again, all she knew was pain and risqué looked like the hero, what a broken foolish girl. Now she had a roof over her head, she could be in her cat form all day, lounging. She never went hungry, never had to worry about what she needed. She was happy to comply. In all actuality, that leopard was the last piece of innocence left in this horrid place.

Risque released her own grip upon him suddenly just when she saw his eyes flutter ever so slightly. He was going to pass out and she couldn't have that, not if he was going to swallow his pride and undo those binds. She viewed her work, that her hand imprinted on his skin like a brand.

The wicked women smiles that warped grin, exposing those hungry fangs, glinting from that artificial light from the chandelier of her office. "Tetradore.." She croons his name possessively, while his fingertips sizzle against the silver collar latch as he moves in an automatic way. Too long he was taking too long. Yet she didn't allow that impatience to meet her voice. "Why do you try to dominate me and fight me?" She almost sounds sweet as honey, but her words are poison. Those endless depths for eyes watch him, study, roving over his handsome face.

She pauses, waiting almost patiently as that collar latch finally creaked open, before it fell unceremoniously against the wall, it clattered against the chains behind her. Relief consumes her, she nearly brought a hand to trace her burns and mutilated wounds.

She is upon him in an instant, on her toes to breathe in his ear a whisper.. "Especially, when I do it better.." A terrible smile upon her painted lips. The she-devil prowls around him, a sensual liquid grace as she does so. He would have to follow her, turn his body so that the wall of silver shackles is behind him. She allows her hand to caress the front of his chiseled body like she owned him, and in her mind she does. Her eyes trailing that blood and it taunts her, invites her.

"Tell me my pet.. What did you feel when you died?" She eyed him morbidly, only slightly curious of his answer. She never stops her trail from her fingertips. It was all a pretty little distraction before she took what she really wanted from him.

Risque

just face the moon and put your death mask on