Pam sat regally perched on her throne, overlooking Fangtasia. It appeared to be the same as always. Blood red walls splattered with various items of illuminated décor. Electronic music blasting out of the speakers, synonymous with the thumping and gyrating of the pole dancers. Fangbangers looking all too eager at the sight of vampires lurking about. Tara tending the bar, mixing cocktails and fetching True Bloods.
Pam's dark blue eyes rested on her progeny, dressed in a simple white tank top and denim jeans. Tara Mae Thornton. Fierce, independent, beautiful, loyal. She was everything Pam could have asked for. Tara had made her so happy, until they had fallen apart.
Pam had fallen hard for her progeny, and had frequently discovered herself studying every ebony curve of Tara's body. She had found herself lost in Tara's deep brown eyes, like pools of the sweetest, most delectable chocolate one had ever tasted. They had been intimate more than once, but had shared more than just flesh. Pam and Tara had confided their deepest, darkest secrets to each other, under a star-studded sky, under warm flannel sheets. Pam had learned that Tara thought she was broken beyond repair. She had been in too many relationships that never seemed to work out.
That's why Pam hadn't been surprised when Tara admitted to her that she didn't want to be romantically involved. The heartbreak and the pain that Tara had gone through in her life was too much for her to handle. Tara had confessed that she felt like she would only break Pam's heart, and that she didn't want to damage their strong relationship as maker and progeny.
Their split had been amicable and mature. Over time, Pam had gradually learned to accept it, and to respect Tara's wishes. Pam no longer felt any romantic pull toward her progeny, but only motherly love and protection. Pam knew that Tara loved her in the same way.
However, Pam had begun to feel lonely, more alone than she'd ever felt before. She missed the nights of cuddling in bed, keeping another safe and warm. Despite the unparalled feelings that came with being a maker, Pam missed the feeling of being in a serious romantic relationship.
Pam examined her electric blue nails and chided herself, wondering how the fuck she had ever gotten so soft. She half-smiled, recalling how much being a maker had changed her. When did Pamela Swynford de Beaufort ever need affection? Ever need love? She scoffed, flipping a golden curl over her shoulder.
Glancing out at the crowd, a female heading towards the bar caught Pam's attention. She was attractive, much too attractive to be here alone. She looked to be in her mid-twenties. She sported a slinky black top that revealed bare shoulders and a generous amount of cleavage, complete with form-fitting black pants and heels. Her curly blond hair fell in cascades to the middle of her back. She was wearing a black rose clip in her hair that sparkled and glinted in the light. Pam narrowed her eyes, assuming the girl was a fangbanger. But no. The way the mysterious young woman was looking around Fangtasia in wonderment, gazing at the people, drinking in her surroundings...she wasn't here for sex. This girl was more than that; Pam could tell. She was different than most of the patrons who came here.
At that moment, the young woman locked eyes with Pam and stared. Pam's enhanced vampire vision could detect that the girl's eyes were a light brown, with tiny emerald green specks. The girl's gaze was penetrating her, filling her, consuming her. Pam could only stare back, her cerulean eyes alight with intrigue.
The girl gave a tiny half-smile, turned her back, and sat down on a black padded barstool. Pam was left to stare at the young woman's back, her mind ablaze with thoughts, her body feeling like it was on fire.