Tetradore had never been particularly covert with his blatant abhorrence for Ivan. The pair across from him knew well his eagerness to all but slaughter the vampire - and were it not for the ivory haired assassin, he nearly could have. It was a distinct level of care for her that had prompted him to hesitate. Once, they had been upon the very cusp of cementing a relationship - one that was contingent upon Vhalla's freedom from the vampire's hold. But those months soon passed on as Vhalla remained within his care and, in turn, she too had moved on from the Western Alpha, allowing him to become little more than a distant memory. His rejection of her had, admittedly, been difficult for both of them and yet, now as he stood across from them, it only seemed for the best. The intensity of his emerald eyes turned slowly towards Ivan as a singular eyebrow rose and yet, any emotions the Were-King might have felt were concealed behind that facade of apathetic coolness. If only Ivan had known what he had just done. Tetradore could hear that possessiveness within Risque's voice as the weight of her glacier irises turned towards him and yet, the Were-King hardly returned that look.

It was futile, he knew, to deny his connection to the ivory haired assassin. After all, Ivan would only further insist upon it and when Vhalla herself didn't deny it, Risque would surely look into his past affairs in turn. The last thing he desired was for his mistress to track down every single woman whom he'd held some candle of affection for. He knew well what would happen if she did - it had occurred before, after all, when he was far younger and prone to the passing fancy of hope. It was far better, now, to simply declare his disinterest in Vhalla, that detachment clinging to him potently as he simply uttered his dislike for someone else' seconds. His very words, it seemed, prompted his mistress' own stare to turn intently upon the pale-haired witch, her eyes roving the assassin's lithe frame with a hungry malevolence. Tonight would hardly end favorably. That small flick of Risque's hand caused the Were-King to shift closer towards her, closing that distance of his own volition as Risque's fingertips touched his skin, the woman all but draping herself against his toned figure in a fashion he had become strikingly used to. It was only at Risque's direct inquiry that his attention turned towards the woman and yet, his lips hardly had the moment to part before Ivan saw fit to intervene. How well Tetradore saw through that feigned innocence and yet, it would hardly help his cause. Oh how little he knew of the vampiress, to think she might be so easily swayed with a fit of jealousy. It almost amused him. Almost.

Tetradore all but ignored Ivan's attempts to provoke him, his answer truly meant for Risque alone. "I got bored." He responded, as if Vhalla was little more then a passing fancy to occupy his time, and his needs. Tetradore's gaze shifted only at the glimpse of movement from his periphery. He watched as Vhalla stiffened, only to abruptly move in front of Ivan, all the while well aware of exactly what he was witnessing. He kept that scowl from crossing his features as his gaze shifted briefly towards Ivan, that glimpse all too knowing before Risque herself once again drew his attention. A small shrug crossed his shoulders at Risque's inquiry, the man hardly seeing fit to inform her that he had scarcely seen the need to tell Vhalla of his own capture. It was pointless, either which way. His mistress' interest in his indiscretion, however, was decidedly short-lived as her attention turned back to Ivan, the woman all too keen on settling that perceived debt. How naive Ivan was to think it possible to sedate the very Mistress of Death with pretty words and worthless secrets. Oh no, she would not be satisfied until that point was made - until Ivan understood that Risque was not the sort to be trifled with. It mattered not the terms or conditions of their contract. Ivan had been expected to fulfill his end of the bargain and he had failed. Although Tetradore knew it would be Vhalla paying the price for it, there was little he could do to save her. Sparing her from this only meant far worse would befall her in the future, especially if Risque discovered he cared for the entrancing, lithe woman.

How sweetly Risque cooed those vicious words within his ear, her voice still clear enough to the small gathering as she encouraged him forward. A soft breath left his lips and yet this was exactly what he was so good at. For years she had twisted and tormented him, she had taught him this dance so well and in turn, as much as he so despised the very monstrosity he had become, although he tried to hide the very world from all he was capable of, he was still the merciless killer she had made him into. Not a word left Tetradore's lips as he stepped forward, his very movements were as fluid as the sleek feline that rested just beneath his skin. The very room seemed to darken with each step he took and yet, where there had once been affection, kindness, and care within the depths of his emerald irises, now there was merely blissful nothingness. His entire gait was lackadaisical as he passed under the little light from above that was capable of cutting through the obscurity he summoned and yet, between those beams of light, deep in the depths of that inky darkness, that transformation from man to beast so easily overcame him, leaving nothing but the prowling panther that stepped into next, pale beam of light.

The sound of Risque's voice was almost haunting in that darkness as the very stench of fear so seemed to permeate the air. The panther prowled easily within his element, his jaws parting to produce a deep, ominous growl and yet, for a moment, he was content to simply stalk them. His paws were all but silent as he circled them, moving with such grace in those impenetrable shadows only to position himself to avoid Vhalla altogether. After all, Ivan was his target, that darkness surely meant to assist him before the panther's gait suddenly increased, those jaws parted, his ivory canines dripping with that acidic saliva as he pounced the pair from behind, so clearly intending to tear into the tender flesh of Ivan's neck. The only question that remained - was whether or not Vhalla and Ivan were fast enough to stop him.