There's no saving me.
I've become a shell of the man I was. Only time will tell if I'm strong enough.
He could practically smell it as it radiated off of her taunt feminine figure. It could feel it moving through her bones, calling to him in the same way his element always did, malleable and ready for his shaping. Her fear was practically palpable to the Were-King and yet, for the meantime, he all but ignored its very existence as he peeled the thin cotton from his well-defined frame. Tetradore gave distinctly little thought to how appealing his flesh might be, his whole attention fully focused upon getting through the evening of Harlequinn's first turning just as he had been tasked to. It was the least he could do, considering how he had made her into what she now was, albeit against her belief or comfort. Her inquiry on whether or not she too might gain such a bodice upon her turning was one that Aiden was quick to shut down altogether. He might have lied to her before but he was trying not to give her any sort of false hope more than necessary. He knew first hand just how much that dishonesty could hurt. That disgruntled grumble on her lips was one he was more than willing to ignore as he tossed his shirt to the side, the emerald of his eyes falling upon her retreating figure. How the girl curled in on herself, that very pain suggesting that he had cut this far too close. If only she hadn't been such a god damned pain. A soft sigh left his lips as Tetradore approached her, his hands reaching out for her as Harley cried out in agony.
He pried her fingers away from her pointless grasping, the man pulling her into his strong arms as he worked at pulling up the fabric of her shirt. Tetradore was well aware of her fingers battling against his hold, her nails digging into his skin and yet, it was nothing he had not experienced before. The white of her nails paled in comparison to the sharpened talons dotted with silver of his own mistress' fingers. The hiss of her words was hardly enough to sway him as Harley attempted to jerk out of his grasp. It was a useless endeavor as he pulled her shirt from her flailing figure, tossing it haphazardly onto the ground before his fingers worked with adept skill at her undergarments. Her bra fell from her figure, baring her bodice to the world as an animalistic sound reverberated from her lips. Harley's figure all but slammed into him and yet, it hardly perturbed the Alpha in the slightest as her bare flesh brushed against his own. Her harsh inquiry prompted but a vague shrug of his shoulders as his fingers dropped down to the button upon her waist. "What does it look like I'm doing?" He inquired, returning her demands with blatant sarcasm of his own. It hardly took much effort upon the Were-King's part before he was pulling both her jeans and underwear off of her figure, his grip nothing but firm upon her as he slid them down her long slender legs, letting them pool around her feet. The Alpha glanced up at her with a singular command, his emerald eyes hardly straying despite the very sight of all he was afforded in such a position.
Tetradore was hardly surprised by the very vehemence that Harley spat at him, his own brow rose ever so slightly as his lips parted. What he didn't expect, was the way that her knee rose so abruptly, the girl clearly striving to kick him and yet, her shin collided quite firmly into his nose, knocking the Alpha off balance. Immediately his hand moved to his nose as Tetradore fell back onto his butt, the Alpha hissing softly as he wiped away blood. "Jesus fucking Christ, Harley." He murmured in pain as he tenderly touched his nose. God, that had fucking hurt. Whatever damage she'd done would surely heal when they shifted but....fuck he hadn't been quite prepared for that. Tetradore's gaze narrowed as he glanced at her retreating form. Slowly, the Alpha rose to his feet, the man once again running the back of his hand against the bottom of his bloody nose. As much as he might have liked to nurse his own wound, there was still the matter of the young woman's impending shift. Her body would hardly wait much longer before it tore itself apart. Slowly, his fingers toyed with the button upon his own jeans as Tetradore pushed them down and off of his waist. His own clothing fell upon the leaf ridden floor as he stepped out of them, his own caramel skin utterly bare beneath the pale light of the moon.
Tetradore gestured loosely to the space ahead of him as he commanded her to stand before him, his own baritone voice laced with that authority of both an Alpha and her maker. Despite the wary manner in which the Hispanic man watched her, that was little want or appreciation within his gaze. His irises hardly roved her feminine physique, his own utter disinterest within the woman surely visible in the lack of reaction on his own body even as she stood several feet away from him with clenched fists. The emerald hue of his own gaze met that fiery purple of Harley's own, that battle of wills entirely silent and yet, with each slow step, the woman relented to his commands. Firmly he ordered the woman to take a breath, his own abilities as Alpha flaring to life as he reached metaphorically for the feline just beneath her skin. The last thing he expected was for the sudden shake of her head, Harley apparently all but denying him even a breath and yet, it hardly mattered in the end. He had already grasped that cat and it, at the very least, answered to his demands. That shift was pulled abruptly over her with a force that was relentless, the panther himself shifting much in the same process with a fluidity that Harley was unable to rival. How quickly his own body twisted and contorted, those bones shifting and elongating, changing and shortening with each muscle as the man shifted to the form of that black jungle cat.
With distinct ease, Tetradore reclined upon his haunches, those near luminous irises watching with vague interest as Harley's body twisted and contorted with each painful snap. That transformation was altogether new for the poor girl, her figure not yet used to the metamorphosis that had overcome her. His head slowly tilted to the side as that cry echoed into the silence of the night, her vocal cords clearly adjusting to that new range of sounds available to her. Sweat covered her ebony figure in the wake of her turn, her body panting in the sheer effort of it all and yet, for the moment, it was over. Tetradore's own tail flicked from side to side behind him as he watched the gangly woman attempt to navigate her new limbs. Her barred teeth and pinned ears hardly perturbed him, Tetradore was far more accustomed to his feline physic then she was. It was almost...amusing to watch her attempt to navigate upon those four legs, the sounds that left her lips almost pathetic in a manner and yet, Tetradore was willing to allow her that moment to become accustomed to what she now was. He watched as she suddenly shifted her attention completely towards him, her movements rough and unwieldy as she launched herself towards him, the woman all but barreling down at him. Only this time...he was ready.
Years of his life had been lost to that animal form, particularly within those earlier years in which Risque had so taken to molding him to fit her fantasies. He was entirely at home within his feline skin. Really, it was almost laughable, Harley's very attempt to go after him. How easily he outweighed her, his very figure so notably larger than her own. The jaguar was utterly intuned with his environment, with his own affinities as those shadows began to chase around his feet. He waited quite until the last moment, letting the woman throw everything she had into that launch before Tetradore simply disappeared. Those very shadows unfolded but mere seconds later, the panther effortlessly slinking through the darkness to throw his very weight upon her uncoordinated figure, quite purposefully knocking her off balance. He hardly hesitated as he positioned himself on top of her, his teeth grasping purchase upon the fur of her neck as Tetradore pinned her to the ground beneath him. It hardly mattered how much she might flail, how she might kick and squirm or how much those sharpened claws might tear at his fur and flesh. There was no world in which the newly turned panther could win this battle - not against the King of the West, not against the Alpha of the Nightshade pack, or against Risque's cherished pet. He had little intention of letting her go until she had submitted to him - just as numerous others before her had done and a great many more after her would.
This is my last goodbye