I really should not be starting another story, but I can't help it. This idea won't go away.
It sits on the edge of my thoughts taunting me, its all "Bitch write me! There's not enough Tamela in the world." And I agreed cuz I'm a weak person.
And I've recently fallen in love with this pairing, and the True Blood series.
So read and enjoy people!
Pamela Swyn De Beaufort sat on her throne in Fangtasia, bored to proverbial tears by the monotony of her customers. The same garrishly dressed people insisted on shadowing her doorstep each night, and predictably, lost themselves to the deceptively lush desires of the flesh that Fangtasia offered in abundance. Humans dressed in leather, reeking of poorly applied cosmetics, and desparation begged for vampire attention-pathetically seeking out a sinful night of pleasure, or an achingly sweet death. Vampires invited themselves to her territory so they could bask in the presence of so many delicious beating pulses, and accept whatever humans had to offer: Blood, sex, never ending fealty and subservience. It was a common occurence for a human to leave with a vampire, and return as a progeny.
Fucking Baby Vamps.
Vampires unable to see past their libido; unable to contain their insatiable need for sex and blood but too young and stupid to obtain either effectively and discreetly filled the edges of her club. Eyes unconsciously drifting towards anything with a heartbeat, and popping fang at the thought of slacking their thirst. It was barbaric, but funny. Humans wandering into Fangtasia didn't seem to care that they were considered food, and that amused Pam endlessly. What sort of pitiful creature seeks out their death, and then asks it torment them?
Humans.
Desperate fucktarded humans.
In her opinion, if the living breathing blood sacks wanted to flock to their death-who was she stop them? Especially since humans smelled and tasted so much better than the synthetic bullshit her peers were trying to mainstream. She rather liked being a casual observer-watching as someone dilineated into a veritable husk of what they used to be. She adored conflict. Unfortunately, she was in a position of power and wasn't allowed to relax on the sidelines as people destroyed themselves in her club. As Sheriff of area five, and the only progeny of Eric Northman-she had an obligation to keep the peace.
In respect of Eric's memory, she was going to make sure her territory flourished, and the people beneath her remained in one piece.
She refused to be a disgrace to her Maker.
She was the last of his legacy, and by extension, the last of Godric's.
By that lineage, with that blood flowing through her veins, excellence was not just expected of her it was required.
Eric Northman had groomed her for centuries before his demise to be the most lethal, invulnerable vampire she possibly could be. Pamela had always been cold, calculating, and uncompromising as a human. When he turned her into a vampire-he nurtured those qualities in her so she would survive through the eras, and adapt to whatever extenuating circumstances arose. Every Viking trait he valued and cherished- courage, unwavering loyalty, frugality, and stubborn exceedingly abrasive pig headed-ness, he instilled in her. He was determined to prepare her for the future, and that inevitable time when he was gone.
However, when her Maker met his True Death-courtesy of Russel Fucking Edgington-Pamela was not ready.
She made a grevious error in assuming Eric Northman was invincible and he would always be there.
Despite his training, and his cautious words of warning she had never truly considered her future without him in it.
It was empty.
It was cold.
And it was filled with an incomprehensible amount of despair.
The silver lining was an eternity to mourn, and the four walls she built with Eric to do it in. Fangtasia was left to her in his will, along with all of his assets. Pamela was immeasurably rich, and planned to use all of her resources to ensure the continuity of her home, and her undead life. Right now, that meant investing all of her energy into making sure that humans felt safe with vampires, and that vampires in turn did not feel the urge to do something incredibly stupid to satisfy their ingrained sense of hubris.
To that end, she waited, and watched.
Always aware.
Like now.
Pamela's gaze did another cursory sweep of the room, passing over the swarm of familiar faces, to rest on two unfamiliar ones sitting in the corner. One male. One female. The male, a dark haired vampire with a grim profile, and a bland uninteresting type of attractiveness met her gaze unflinchingly, and held it. They studied each other, drinking in appearances, divining each other scents over the smog of the bar, and openly looking for weaknesses. Raising one challenging eyebrow, her eyes whorled with amusement, she purposefully turned her attention to his companion.
He visibly bristled, and Pam smirked as he leaned down to warn the blonde at his side that they were about to be summoned by her.
That wasn't true.
She had zero interest in summoning them-until he said something that is.
Now she felt a pressing need to talk to this odd pair that were making unwarranted assumptions about her, and what she planned to do. They weren't among her regulars, and clearly weren't here for the usual reasons.
Sighing, Pam curled her finger back in a disdainful come-hither gesture
Exchanging glances, the dark haired vampire and the blonde woman slowly got up and walked over to her at a human pace. As they neared her throne, Pamela tilted her head to the side, studying them. The male was tall, and dressed formally in dress pants, and a black button down shirt. His jaw was clenched, and his hand was encircled protectively around his companion's waist as he guided her gently through the crowd. The blonde haired woman was in a sun dress, that did not compliment the atmosphere of Fangtasia in the slightest, and was chewing nervously on her lip.
When they stopped at her side, Pam became utterly still as two very important things became clear to her: One-it registered to her that the dark haired male was not a stranger, he was in a fact a local vampire that hadn't been home in ages. His name was Bill Compton. The second thing that she became very aware of was that the human woman smelled heavenly.
Pam licked her lips provocatively, inhaling the blonde woman's aroma.
"It's been awhile Mr. Compton." She drawled, her eyes never leaving the woman at his side. "Why don't you both take a seat?" She inclined her head in invitation at the open chairs next to her.
Her Maker was familiar with all levels of Bill Compton's fuckery when he was alive.
They were acquaintances, with very little in common aside from their inherently superior nature.
Bill was a mainstream vampire, who spoke out of both ends of his mouth.
Eric never trusted him, and she didn't either.
"I've been indisposed." He explained, in the politically correct way all vampires articulated themselves. Pamela rolled her eyes internally at the nonanswer. It meant nothing: words without substance.
"And who is this delectable treat you brought along?" Her gaze raked up and down the blonde's body, wondering how she would taste. The girl smelled mouthwatering, and even better, she smelled untouched. Virgins blood was always richer, and infinitely more satisfying than normal blood.
Tired of her eye fucking his human, Bill's fangs slid out. "This is Sookie, and She's mine." He hooked a possessive arm around the girl again. Drawing her closer to him although they were in seperate seats.
Males were so utterly predictable.
If Bill was a dog he would have pissed on the girl.
If he was a human he would have bought her a ring.
But because he was a vampire, his way of showing possession would be with fangs and blood. Pamela's gaze flicked to the girl's neck, but only pale unmarred skin was visible-which meant his claim was a load of craptastic garbage, or he had marked her somewhere else. He most likely left his mark in a place less exposed. Although why he would choose to mark someone with a trashy backwater name like Sookie confounded her.
"How unfortunate." Pam leaned back in exasperation, a decidedly fake pout in her voice. "For me anyways."
"Look." Sookie finally spoke for the first time, her voice small and unsure sounding in Pam's home and place of business. "I was wondering if you've seen these people before." The blonde rummaged through her purse for a few moments before withdrawing some photographs, and handing them to her.
Wondering where this line of questioning was going, Pamela lazily accepted the photographs, examining each of them in turn. "I fed on that one." She pointed at one photogenic girl with dimples, "And that one begged to be eaten." She pointed to the brunette in the next photo, sensually tracing the edge of her picture. "I ignored her though, and threw her out of my bar. She wasn't ready for a woman of my calibre" Pam concluded, her lips curving up into a dangerous smile as she handed the pictures back. "Is that all you needed?"
Sookie nodded hastily, her face pale. "Yeah."
"Come Sookie." Bill drew her away from Pam's throne, his expression guarded. "Sheriff." He dipped his head respectfully at her, and Pam waved him off. She never cared for formalities, and she knew posturing when she saw it. Bill was just rushing to get his new plaything out of the door. Who knows what kinky things he had in store for her. Probably using all of his vampire charm to rid her of that nasty virginity.
"It's always the quiet ones." Pam murmured distractedly, her thoughts turning back to her maker as they always did.
The quiet ones always gave her the most grief.
Perhaps she needed to be wary of Bill Compton.
A short first chapter.
I'm feeling out the characters a bit still so once I figure out how they flow the chapters will get longer.
R and R!