For far too long the were-panther's life had been dictated by the vampire mistress he unwillingly severed. He dreaded the evenings upon which she came to visit but a part of him was far too used to the horrors and torture of his life to be emotionally affected by the cruelty she inflicted any longer. He bore the brute of her maliciousness, he kept the air of indifference and when it suited him (which was more often then not lately), he defied her. It had only taken a few days to discover that any hint of submission that Tetradore gave her only caused her to take her malicious fantasies out upon the redhead she sired. It was this realization alone that brought out within him a newfound streak of confrontation - the point of which hadn't existed within the were since his adolescent years. The more he opposed her, the more likely she was to turn her attention upon him and, in turn, give a blind eye to his fellow captives within the dance club. The redhead Risque had sired had become an important entity to him, perhaps as much as the spotted feline that daftly refused to leave his side. He did everything he could to protect them from the atrocities that went on behind those victorian walls. Sometimes, however, it was not enough.

Silently the man slunk within the corner of the crowded club, knowing all too well that Risque had an uncanny ability to find him when she desired to subject him to her notion of amusement. His emerald eyes traced over the crowd that surrounded him, all together ignoring the music that reverberated throughout the upscale warehouse. He watched with apathy as his mistress' vampires hunted through the crowd, searching for those too naive, too drunk, or too high to refute their primal urges. In truth, his observations were hardly purposeless, instead intently searching for something - some one. Innately, he knew Tobias was nearby, the bond formed through their pack was far too steadfast for even Risque to obliterate. It was with that reassurance that caused Tetradore to turn his attention to his second charge. He hadn't dared to approach the newly turned vampire since their fateful encounter within the clearing. The image of her shuddering from his proximity was stained within his mind and yet, for whatever reason, he chose to be that rather unexpected guardian haunting the shadows. On more then one occasion he had redirected things, individuals meant for her to another place, knowing all too well that her delicate soul could not survive within the nightmare of his life.

A frown marred his masculine features as he found the young vampire dragged along by her escort, his proverbial throwing of her feminine figure was enough to cause his eyes to narrow. Restlessly, his fingertips toyed with the edge of the ebony sofa that had become his resting place for the evening, his gaze intently observing the fashion at which she nestled against the edge of the bar, her gaze turning lifelessly amongst the crowd. There was a soft sigh upon his lips as his emerald eyes met those lifeless crystalline ones. He knew that look far too well - that look of defeat. For a moment he simply sat there, watching her in silence. He knew all too well that his presence was not a welcomed one. He knew she'd likely flinch away from his figure, that he'd more then likely frighten her and yet, with all this knowledge, Tetradore still found himself rising, mrauvering with feline like grace through the crowd that assembled around her. Half of him expected for her feminine figure to be gone the moment he had emerged from the throng and yet, there she was - still as defeated. A soft sigh left his lips as he slowly neared the girl, his hardly gaze drifting from her fair features only momentarily, captured instead by the peculiar object around her neck and the red that rimmed it.

Tetradore was no stranger to Risque's favorite form of punishment, having experienced his own fair share of bruises and pierced skin by her pulling of a "collar". She had be far less subtle within the crafting of his, proudly showing off her 'pet' to the patrons of the bar. She was getting subtler, although why he certainly had no doubts. Others were far more inclined to help a damsel in distress then a captured panther. Delicately his fingers reached out, gently brushing against the flesh of her neck as he took the lacy material within his hands. He could hear the hiss of silver on skin as the movement, he could feel her blood on his fingertips but he ignored it as he tried to undo the peculiar buckle mechanism. After a moment of getting absolutely no where with the thing, Tetradore leaned closer towards her, his emerald gaze intently tilted upwards, watching her for any sign that she found his proximity too uncomfortably to bare. His lips brushed against her flesh as he took the choker within his mouth, letting his only ability work it's magic - soaking through the cloth and metal beneath it. It hardly took more then a moment before his task was done and he was capable of removing the awful thing from her throat, depositing it without care upon the bar with a soft clink. "There. It won't take long to heal, I promise Angel." His voice was a soft whisper, hardly even hearable over the loud obnoxious beat that echoed around them. Then again - he suspected that she wouldn't even begin to care about his efforts to help.