my monsters are realthey're trained how to kill, these monsters can fight
they'll never say die, there's no goin' back
if I get trapped I'll never heal

Kindness was not a word that Tetradore would have ever utilized to truthfully define the vampiric woman who had enslaved him all those years ago. He had never witnessed her offer a single act without some ulterior motive - one that frequently she alone understood and equally as often came with an undercurrent of consequences that she delighted in executing with a cold efficiency. How obscure the syllables of that faux compliment felt within his mouth, though it was not that blatant lie that caused him to falter in his confidence. No, it was the momentary quandary over weather or not Risque saw herself as kind. Would she view such a word as a weakness? A thing to be despised? Or was it sufficient flattery to soothe the fury that dwelled beneath the surface of her pristine pale skin? How quick she was to seize upon that moment of weakness, her soprano voice held a sickening sweet tune to it though the Hispanic knew well the danger that dwelled within that query. A wrong choice and his efforts to please her would shatter into tiny pieces, making his complacency, his patience and perseverance all for naught. His tongue darted over his bottom lip, the enchantingly vibrant emerald of his irises stared at her reflection within the mirror as his chin lifted ever so slightly in a minute display of assuredness. "A statement." He answered, his baritone voice a soft utterance in the oppressive silence of her bedroom.

Her hand reached up to brush softly against the caramel flesh of his shoulder, the coolness of her skin a stark contrast to his almost too warm figure. Risque's pale gaze almost seemed to linger upon each refined muscle of his bare chest reflected within the depths of the mirror. It might have been easy for a stranger to mistake that emotion that danced across her poised features as one of lust and desire. Tetradore, however, had spent far too many years under her roof to make such a misjudgment of his Mistress. Her interests had failed to venture to any unsatisfied carnal wants for some years now. Her wants were comprised almost entirely of his physical torment. The pressure against his shoulder was soft and immediately, Tetradore turned to face the vampire behind him. He studied her contemplative features as she puzzled over his appearance. The itching silver earring within his ear was almost entirely hidden beneath his wealth of near ebony locks. Though the Alpha had been relieved at the subtlety of the small silver loop, Risque seemed...less than enthused. It was almost as if she had anticipated the earring should have done...something. A small frown tugged at the corners of his lips though he fell to the sanctity of silence, preferring it then the trouble the mere rumble of his voice might cause.

Risque's fingertips drummed against his shoulder, though she deliberately kept the silver taloned tips of each finger from brushing against his skin. He was acutely aware of their very presence, however, and how quickly she could dig the metal into his flesh. His figure was tense with anticipation of a pain that didn't come as the quietness between them stretched on, unbroken. Finally, she stirred, her fingers trailing across his shoulder and neckline only to pluck the dainty golden chain of the Phoenix necklace that promised his continued survival. Risque pulled back upon the gilded links till that were taut with tension, digging into the back of his neck. The tension, however, failed to induce any of the feelings his Mistress desired - the thoughts of those collars that had once been forced upon him were entirely replaced with a brief concern that she intended to take the immortality she had thrust upon him. He had gotten surprisingly...comfortable...with the idea that death was forbidden to him. It had prompted a level of recklessness within the man that made his previous insubordination pale in comparison. He threw himself willingly in harm's way outside of Syn with the simple knowledge that, in the end, none of it mattered anyways. It was a tool he had begun to utilize like any other affinity he held...and yet...how odd it was to finally have some desire to live when, before, he had wanted nothing but the comfortable reprieve of death.

The soprano notes of her voice drew Tetradore from his internal thoughts - that question of his collar finally prompted a scowl upon his features, even as he insisted that it was her fault it sat at the bottom of the ocean floor with the rest of the boat she had seen to sinking. Those words, he knew, were not ones she would like to hear. To suggest that his mistress was anything less than perfect was akin to heresy. Her response, however, was far more...concise than Tetradore had anticipated. His brow rose though he failed to offer her a syllable in reply. Abruptly she released the chain around his neck, letting it fall back to its place against his chest. Her French accent filled the air as she informed him that she had done him a favor by sinking the Ark - as if the destruction of his second home was something to thank her for! What he couldn't argue, however, was that the rusted boat had marred the view of the coastline. It had...certainly been unmistakable, it's sheer size and dilapidated state had set a pretense for the rough neighborhoods that surrounded the cargo ship. "It made a statement." He grumbled as his gaze turned away from her. His Mistress continued on without missing a beat as she informed him of how ungrateful he was. The Alpha's gaze narrowed as he glanced at her from his periphery. Ungrateful. He...was ungrateful? His fingers curled into a fist in a subtle display of irritation. How he struggled to understand what he had to be grateful for - for the murder of his parents? The destruction of his home? For a life of slavery? His features, however, seemed to lose all emotion as Tetradore retreated behind that facade of apathy, his clenched fingers falling lax as he remained silent.

It was the undeniable threat upon her stained lips that caused his empty gaze to turn back towards her. Though he had little doubt she might follow through on such a promise, Tetradore had thus far experienced a wide array of collars. It was unlikely that this 'next' one was to be any different then what he knew himself already capable of enduring. She reached out, pushing him out of her way as he stumbled several feet back from the force of her touch. Her hips sashayed towards the mirror, her eyes focused vainly upon herself as she continued to inform him that she was 'done' with him - those very words prompted a hint of relief within him, though he dared not to show it. It was her command of how to depart, however, that caused Tetradore to pause. For a moment, the emerald of his gaze met her eyes head on as she glanced at him over her shoulder, only for his eyes to shift towards the door. To crawl on his hands and knees....to the door and outside of Syn? The humiliation of such an action was enough to prompt a sour taste within his mouth, though he was careful to keep that scowl from his features. He had little intention of giving her the satisfaction of demeaning him in front of the entire dance club...though he suspected her request was made with that in mind. How she loved to push and see how far his compliance might take him - to see if he had yet broken to her continual efforts to control him. How she'd lied. She was just waiting to see what he might do.

His jaw clenched as Tetradore slowly dropped to his knees. He hadn't exactly felt inclined to those fires of rebellion tonight...and yet...the pride of an Alpha could be a..very stubborn thing. Still...she had wished to 'remind him of what he was', hadn't she? 'Mon chat'. That...that was something he very well could be. His skin rippled, that caramel flesh replaced with short ebony fur. The jungle cat slinked towards the door, only to settle upon his haunches in front of it as those intelligent green eyes turned back towards her. He had done what she had asked...just not quite in the way she had asked for it. Would Risque accept that slight deviation from her command or would tonight be far more...eventful then he had hoped?