Tetradore was entirely aware of the weight of Vhalla's crystalline blue irises upon him, despite that look of indifference that so crossed his placid features. He shifted from that position against the wall only at his mistress' beckon, the man so entirely used to her touch as she so draped her salacious feminine figure upon him. That action was so wholly possessive and yet, he knew better than to so challenge her here and now. He could feel that cold caress of her fingers against his warm caramel skin and yet, that simple glimpse of faux affection was benign in comparison to all that she surely could have taken from him at the discovery of his interest within another - fleeting though his affair with the ivory haired witch was. His gaze traced the familiar outline of Vhalla's jawline, the man well aware of those glimpses of her anger and yet, it was better to have her furious at him than it was for either of the pair to further foster those feelings of 'what if'. It was safer, like this. The Alpha's attention flickered towards Ivan as the vampire so addressed him and yet, he was altogether quick to brush off any ideas of any intimate affairs between himself and the witch. Those words alone prompting a near immediate response from the woman beside him, her fingers digging into his skin in a manner that made him flinch. Even so, Tetradore merely offered her a mere shrug of indifference. "Believe as you wish." He muttered, glancing away from the trio, all the while making little effort to argue that cause any further.

The Alpha remained silent as Risque so taunted him with what his future so surely might hold - that promise of remedying his altogether rare consideration of bringing anyone to his bed that was not the vampiric woman. He said little, however, as Risque so whispered in his ear her desire to unleash the beast that she had so meticulously molded him to be. He watched as Ivan folded his arms behind his back, so clearly unconcerned and yet, in time, the vampire too would learn his place at their feet - like so many others before him. Tetradore peeled himself from the hold of his mistress, his own affinity for fear so lashing out to ensnare them both. The very environment so seemed to twist and warp under the sway of Tetradore's power, the luminosity within the building dimming to an almost impenetrable blackness beyond those pale rays that cut distinct columns through the warehouse. His own coiled muscles moved in an unmistakably predatory fashion as that shift overcoming him with rapid assuredness on that darkness of his own making, the jaguar's presence only seen within that brief moment he so moved within the light - that deep, threatening growl the only sound of warning he so gave the assassin before he disappeared again into that inky darkness, altogether aware that she would undoubtedly be watching for him.

Ivan was, admittedly, particularly predictable. The vampire thought himself untouchable with his own favored pet nearby. She would be the very source of his aggression, just as she too was his weak point. That kindness he had so once given Vhalla, that protectiveness and tenderness had all but vanished within that moment - lost in an oblivion of cold detachment from those feelings he fostered. It was the only way Tetradore knew how to survive, to simply turn off those emotions and perform those tasks requested of him, no matter the personal cost to him. He was well aware of that desperate look to her eyes as she so seemed to stare at him in the midst of that darkness he so roved. His ears flickered at the musical sound of Risque laughter, the woman so declaring that, in the event the duo were left alive, she would anticipate repayment of that imagined slight against her. Tonight, he was sure, would not be the last of their dealings with Ivan - the vampire himself hardly moving in the face of that impending danger. How Tetradore might find a distinct enjoyment within this, if not for that fact alone. His movements were sudden and swift, those powerful hind legs so launching the creature's heavy form into the air as he so strove to take down the impudent undead man. His effort, unfortunately, was one done in vain.

His paws collided with some unseen surface, that invisible barrier so blocking him from his target and yet, Tetradore rebounded off if it with such distinct grace as he landed upon the floor of that warehouse. That low growl reverberated in the depths of his throat and yet, that fear he so attempted to instill upon both vampire and witch seemed, for now, to hardly be enough. That glimpse of annoyance, however, was fleeting as his emerald eyes turned towards the female witch. She - after all, was the only other way he could consider to get past that very barrier, as much as he so detested it. For all those deplorable acts that Ivan imposed upon Vhalla, the vampire at least held some measure of care for the girl. He would undoubtedly intervene on her behalf if her life was truly in danger - that alone was a stark difference between Ivan and Risque. His own mistress having brought him to the very brink of death time and time again if only for the curiosity of whether or not he might survive. Tetradore hardly flinched at that wave of fire that was so launched between them, despite that hiss that echoed on his lips as his own body was so enveloped, briefly, within the protective encasing of that obsidian armor he so often chose. That rock exterior, however, dissipated the moment it was no longer necessary. He watched the woman as she positioned herself in front of him, that soft begging altogether heard and yet it too was easily ignored. How many times, over all those years, had he been pleaded with?

For a moment, Tetradore watched those flames that danced and flickered before him, her control far more practiced than it had been before. He was aware of those words she mouthed to him and yet, death was a gift he would not provide her, even if it was a wholly selfish desire. His gaze fluttered towards Ivan as the man's voice so echoed in the darkness, his words alone all Tetradore needed for those claws to click against the cement. That obsidian coated his frame in mere seconds as the panther threw himself at that fire, his own massive form near colliding with the petite frame of the witch. His sheer weight alone would undoubtedly send her falling to the floor, if she failed to teleport out of his grasp. His claws were unsheathed, striving to cut through the fabric of that black suit she so often wore and to the fragile skin beneath.