Tetradore could avoid her gaze all he liked, that mere gesture was an omission of guilt to the she-devil. Her pet truly did like to wander like the tom cat he was. Perhaps she should fix him and make him into a strict house pet. He truly had been given some rope to wander those streets and she was honestly beginning to wonder if these feeble distractions would only continue to weaken him more. How those thoughts rolled and rattled within her calculating mind. Things to contemplate another night, it would seem, they had more pressing matters to attend to. Her eyes slice over to the white-haired witch, letting that gaze rove over her form with those apathetic assessing eyes. Perhaps the two pets had once grown acquainted with one another, perhaps they still did. There was no denying that look the woman had given Tetradore, of course that astute gaze could hardly miss it. That very pathetic little stare that betrayed her far more than she had probably realized. Risque's eyes narrowed before allowing her body to allow her body to press against her pet possessively, allowing her finger tips to brush against his heated skin like she savored it and it was all for that possessive show. That very caress was like a hint, a promise that this was far from over and a reminder that he was ultimately was hers, no matter how many whores he fucked. He was her favoured pet to do as she pleased, knowing it wore him down every time his control was so stripped from him.

How the other vampire chooses to try and bait Risque with those taunting useless words, dangling them in front of her face like she were foolish enough to bite at them. This temptress has been playing this game a long time and he was nothing short of disappointing, coming up short time and time again it would seem. What tiny excuse for a man. A man who thought he possessed all the cards, when all those cards were in her deck. How foolish Ivan was to think that he was needed in any of this. We was expendable, much like that white haired little strumpet was. Tetradore opened his mouth to claim he got bored, those pale eyes snap to him. "I do not believe you, mon chat." Her voice rang out from her voice, her fingers digging into that warm beckoning skin. This soap opera was growing to be quite stale. Her pale alluring eyes befell upon Ivan easily then. "I do have ways to remedy this. Could you say the same, Ivan?" She uttered casually but there was that ominous jabbing in those very words.

"Your control over your pet is poor.. How about a demonstration of how it should be done, shall we?" It would seem that Ivan was running out of options and to be quite honest, he was boring her with his own droning. That patience were wearing so terribly thin. The time for words was coming to a close. Perhaps, it was time to unleash her trained monster on the world, to allow him out of his contained little cage and stretch those aching limbs. After all that debt was far from settled and these foolish dramas could be dealt with in copious other ways. How little did she care for those performances that did not pertain to her and besides, the acting was atrocious.

Tetradore peeled himself from that wall, encouraged by the weight of her words laced with those powers. How that pristine pearly white hair would certainly look so much better slick with her own blood. In those moments, Risque content to watch her pet work within that rapidly fading light, hungry submissive darkness consuming that room then, concealing her Tetradore's human form as that fear permeated the air like an insatiable disease it devours, that musk is like the finest perfume. She breaths in deep, devouring their scent, tasting it upon her tongue as her tongue seems to slide hungrily across her crimson lips. That familiar flicker of light seemed to send a shrill electrical current of anticipation through the sadistic woman.

That anticipation caused a primal wicked grin to slide across the woman's lushly sinful crimson maw, those razor-sharp fangs exposed like a tease of bare thigh exposed. How with every methodical step of Tetradore's slinking form the light seems to flicker, just to see his form and disappear again, his muscular body moving with seamless practiced precision. That room was trapped, filled with suffocating intent as that shift over took him so quickly. A near seamless shedding of skin and crunching, rearranging bones. That ebony monster emerged only a moment later when that light flickered on. A dark near maniacal chuckle escapes the she-devil.

How this night was barely getting started and now Ivan seems to beg like the pitiful excuse for a vampire he truly was, by offering here barely any kind of compensation. Another meager kill. How dare he. The time for negotiations were through. He had his moment to give into her demands. It was time to make him an example, to train him in the art in dealings with the maleficent she-devil.

"If you live, I do anticipate you will deliver to me three heads of my choosing, but if you die, the true death, then our debt will be settled." She nearly sighed, those words dispassionately articulated making her intentions so very clear. Who said she was not a fair mistress? Violence was inevitable now and even Tetradore himself could taste it, how those binds within him wrung so tight. The brief though of that potential of making the duo before her, forever in her favour was certainly something that calculating temptress thought of in that moment. Perhaps she should enslave them both. Placing that binding noose around Ivan's neck could easily be fashioned into a leash, after all. But he was hardly worth the effort. Or perhaps he was better off dead alongside with his pretty whore.

For now, she was content to take her pound of flesh, to set an example and a standard of respect. How oblivious the twosome seemed to be of Tetradore's silent stalking that room, that very monstrous force that had their blood on his mind. A veritable reaper stalking them with purposeful silent footfalls, that anticipatory growl rumbling from his very chest gave him away as if seeking to ensnare their attention before he strikes.

How that pounding drums of fear seems to sing like the hymn of the devil itself, it felt like a worshiping caress against her greedy skin. How she soaks it in, feeds on it. "Tell me... do you feel it?" What she meant by that very notion just as obscure as she is, especially within those shadows that cling to her.

"Because I want you to." That melodious voice uncurls and slices through the air like an adeptly wielded reaper's scythe.

Now she eagerly waits for those screams that were sure to follow as her panther executes his pungent assault.

Risque

just face the moon and put your death mask on