Tetradore's attempt to drag his feet were all but ruined as Darcy tossed him into the depths of Risque's office. He stumbled forward, his hand placed almost protectively over his side in a vain effort to hide his blotchy skin. He hardly reacted as the weight of that heavy silver door closed solidly behind him with an audible click, trapping him within the depths of his own personal hell. There would be no escaping her wrath, he knew this all too well as he stood with silence before her, all too aware of the weight of her glacier eyes as they transversed his bare caramel flesh. He remained silent as he stood before her, knowing all too well that any word he uttered would not provide him with any sort of relief for what would inevitably come. Tetradore had spent far too long at Risque's side. He had watched those blubbering men beg for her their lives, for her mercy, as they muttered excuses that failed to satisfy her. It was far easier to accept her anger, if only for the hope that she might lose interest by his lack of outward defiance. He was too tired, tonight, to be the man so filled with pride and blatant contempt that she had become accustomed to and yet, even so, Tetradore's gaze slowly shift, his emerald eyes turning towards her with the resolution to face whatever came next in the same boldness he had been so forced to stare death in the face time and time again.

His lips pursed together ever so slightly at the sound of Risque's voice and yet, he answered with little more than a meager shrug of his shoulder. It was altogether clear that Risque was...displeased, to say the least, at what she had viewed as his attempted effort to escape her cold clutches. She would scarcely believe him if he informed her that he had every intention to return. An audible sigh left his lips and yet, Tetradore was simply too tired for that meticulous dance the pair so often weaved. Every breath caused pain to lace along the side of his rib cage and into his lungs and his thoughts were far too preoccupied with the welfare of Tobias and the inoperable sports car left within the depths of the dry and desolate desert. Quite frankly, he was too busy to spend the remainder of his evening as the vampire's little pet, though he had little intention of informing her of that. He had hardly been naive enough to think he was capable of escaping her just yet, the man's baritone voice decidedly flat as he responded. "You have been perfectly clear with your intentions." For a moment, Tetradore's emerald gaze followed her as she moved with such predatory grace towards him, his irises fluttered away as she paused just in front of him. He was well aware of the weight of her glacier gaze upon him, his shoulders all but bare and free of the indentation of her fangs. He had healed far faster than normal with the assistance of Matteo's affinity - thankfully, neither of them voice a syllable on those marks he was blissfully absent of.

That demand to show the woman his side, however, was answered with a slight tightening of his fingers against his flesh, his emerald eyes narrowed ever so slightly. The last thing Tetradore wanted was her callous fingers anywhere near the multitude of colors upon his chest. His stillness, however, hardly seemed to be missed as the sudden lash of her affinity so slapped against his skin. Her power so tugged at the feline with him, more as a reminder of what she was capable of should he prove to remain stagnant. The hair upon his arms stood on end and yet, the Were-King still dragged his feet all the same. Obeying her in this, at least, hardly hurt him any more than he already was. Slowly, Tetradore moved to the very wall he innately knew she desired him at, his gaze tracing the chains and collars that hung upon that silver plated wall. Tetradore turned as he stood, leaving inches between his bare flesh and the wall with the clear intention of saving his spine from the burns of that metal. His eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly as he listened to the laughter upon her lips and yet that promise within her voice was nothing shy of foreboding. At the very least, he was assured that it was not Tobias that she had within her grasp. There was some level of reassurance within that fact alone and yet, the multitude of other souls he cared for, he still fretted over even as he watched her with a glimpse of frigid apathy upon his masculine features.

There was an undeniable taunt to her voice as Risque assured her with such a saccharine sweet tone that he was unlikely to enjoy such a gift. His eyebrow rose ever so slightly, "I am somehow not surprised." He muttered, more to himself than the woman in front of him. Once upon a time, when he was younger, he might have resorted to pleading and sobbing over such a promise, in his adolescent years he had been more inclined to merely glare at her with utter silence and yet, in those years he'd spent away from her, as the Alpha of his own pack, he found himself inclined to utter the very truth of his thoughts. As it was, the Were-King swallowed the anxiety within him, steeling himself and his heart both against the pain and the fears that so beset him. "Let's get it over with." He commented, clearly goading her onwards with some feigned lack of concern if only so he could return home all the sooner.