Hey folks! First attempt at a True Blood story! I promise chapters will get longer (most of my stories have chapters that range 3,000-4,000 words). If you enjoy this, I will definitely continue. Reviews are greatly appreciated and loved! -Jen
Prologue:
It was hot. No, that was an understatement. This was fucking hell. Pam inhaled sharply through her nose-not that she needed to breathe, it just felt...necessary. Vampires weren't usually bothered by heat-especially during nightfall since the sun wasn't even out. But much had changed over the past six months. A lot. And there wasn't a single damn person in the world that she needed now more than ever than Eric Northman, her stupid, fucking, concern-inducing maker.
The journey to the Rhone Valley was a long one, running being no longer a possibility or even safe for that matter. She took the metro once she reached Paris, relatively glad that it was mostly empty this time of day. But it was no surprise that what few passengers boarded the transportation took utter interest in her. Not in the fear and unnerved way she was use to. No, she desired that sort of reaction more than ever. This was different. Curious. Worry. Fucking sentiment.
"Madame?" An older gentleman said from the seat across the aisle. "Parlez-vous francais?"
She looked away from him, not even wanting to acknowledge his existence. Part of her wanted nothing more than to rise up and drain him of his precious blood. But something in the back of her mind fought against that idea. She shifted in her seat, the feeling of heat growing even more intense. She was exhausted. Parched. Fearful for her maker. She'd give him a piece of her mind when she found him...after she made sure he was alright, of course.
"Madame?" The man pressed, leaning forward. His accent was thick, making it hard to understand what little English he knew. "It...is not safe to be out this late in your condition..."
"Fuck off," Pam growled, causing the man to lurch back startled.
"Madame," the man said quietly after a few moments. "It...it not safe at night with the vampires... Your infant will be endangered."
For a moment, an undefinable lump formed in Pam's throat. Her eyes wandered down to the solid middle of her stomach that was far swollen than it should be. Memories began to bleed through the cracks in her mental wall she put up. The tortures of Vamp Camp... The experiments... A "parting gift" from the assured resurrected Josef Mengele himself. 'Consider it a reparation for what you did to my daughter, Mr. Northman' The governor's voice repeated over and over again in her head like a broken record. Inhaling sharply, she forced the voice and the thoughts from her mind, glaring out of the train window as the lights flickered past in a blur.
"That is the least of my problems..." she muttered, ignoring the slight flutter sensation that came from her middle.
Six months to the day. It was growing. Moving. Alive. Vampires couldn't get pregnant or even impregnate for that matter. This wasn't that fucking excuse for a vampire series. She wasn't going to give birth to some exquisite brain-capacity of Einstein baby. This was messed up. Fucking messed up and Eric was gone... Gone... And she needed him.
"Vallée du Rhône," a voice announced over the speaker. "Le dernier arrêt pour la nuit."
And Pam hoped privately it would be the last for her as well...
