This story has been sitting on my desktop for over five months now. I've been playing with it that long. The idea came to me back when the Age of Eric contest was announced, I was so excited to enter contest! Needless to say I didn't.

Not because I didn't want to, but I couldn't find my muse to finish it at the time, so I decided not to push, having fallen in love with writing Pam and wanting to make sure I'd done her justice (I hope I have succeeded).

I'd put her away, taking her out to play every now and then, hoping I'd come up with the ending. I did eventually write one. Again I wanted to post it. I didn't.

I was still not happy with it. By now, I had to admit I was frustrated. If you aren't aware of my writing process, here's the truth, I do hear voices in my head. Pam's voice is very strong, and she is determined I don't leave anything out.

I've finally come back to it, yet again. This time I decided that I will be posting it as a multi chapter. It has turned into one in the end, starting at just under ten thousand words and is now a little over twenty, and I've still got a ways to go before I'm done editing it, meaning it will most likely grow bigger by the time I'm done.

I hope you will enjoy this glimpse into Pam's past as much as I do. I love this story, it has been such a process and definitely something I'd never expected I would write.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from SVM universe, thought the rest are all mine.

WARNING: This story contains mature language, mature themes, violence, blood, and sex. Please be aware that this story is not for everyone and if you have problems with reading BDSM I would suggest not reading this story, or at least skipping chapter 3.


There are many who believe that vampires are cold, unfeeling creatures of the night that will kill indiscriminately. We are not, and though killing does bring us a form of pleasure, it is not something we indulge in often. It may be because the ones we hunt can think and speak for themselves. After all, we do not consider a wolf unfeeling for eating its prey. Maybe it is different, but I do not think so. How is our hunting different to that of humans, lions or wolves? They are more likely to kill their prey; we only do it when it is necessary or in the haze of bloodlust.

Feelings.

Like any other creature on this planet we have those too, but we hide ours so deep that most do not see anything but glacial calm, an indifference towards anything that is not relevant to ourselves, our safety and standing. A human would do the same if they had the opportunity to perfect it for as many years as we live. After all, feelings are a weakness that can be used against you.

Few of our kind truly care for humans. We pretend sometimes, but in the end they are all disposable, all sustenance, chattel. If one does stand out from the herd, it would have to be an exemplary creature indeed; those we nurture, and more often than not, turn. In most cases it is a calculated move. Not everyone has the capacity for immortality. Years stretched out in front of you for eternity is a daunting feeling if you do not have a strong will and joie de vivre.

I have both in spades.

It takes a while to acclimatise to such a lifestyle, to learn how to hide one's true affection from the world. After all, when one has only a few decades to live, it would be a waste if they were lived without passion. Humans are all so passionate in their feelings, so careless and impulsive when making a decision. It is understandable, their lives finite, each day bringing them closer to the moment when they will find their light snuffed out.

My parents, who loved me dearly despite the fact I was a daughter and not the son they'd hoped for, would have rejoiced that in the end their name lives on in me still, when my brother's line has died out long ago.

I was groomed from a young age to be a wife of wealth, the embodiment of grace and femininity. Those words had different meanings than they do now, and I must confess that though I have put aside most of the teachings from my youth, there are some I still put into practice.

In truth, I had not expected for my human life to end so early. Not that I regret it in the least. My life had barely begun when Eric found me, but I do not hold a grudge against him. I only feel gratitude for his decision. For if he had not seen me that night, had not been taken with me, I would have lived out my short life in chains not of my own making, hating what I had become. It is much better this way. This way I am free to be myself.

Oh, you may be quite certain that I did not seek out such a change, though like any spirited young woman I had craved adventure before the shackles of marriage locked away those dreams, and like most such things in life, it found me. An implacable tide that is life, changing the landscape of your soul sometimes so slowly you do not notice it, but when a storm descends, nothing is the same in its wake.

I've often wondered: If things had turned out differently, would I still be living my undead existence? I have my doubts, for if anything, the events that occurred just shy of the tenth anniversary of my first death became crucial for the tempering of my character so that I would survive the test of time.

Though our race is old, our true origin is unknown. There are legends, as with any other populace, yet none are the concrete truth. When humans were still babies learning to walk on this earth, our people had been running. We were there when the first fires lit, when writing was discovered, and we are still here now, unchanged by time, stagnant in our beauty.

Vampires have been turned from all and every human race that walks this earth, each carrying their faith into their new existence. Some thing themselves damned, others soulless; I prefer to think of it as a blessing, for though we only live at night, we are indeed blessed.

My own gift when I wakened to my second life was that of impeccable memory. I can recall the exact details of every human I have ever fed from, all the vampires I made the acquaintance of, and here I kid you not, every gown that has ever been worn by me.

That night, I can recall with crystal clarity, as though it was burnt into my soul—if I still have one—so I would never had a chance to forget my last moment of whimsical reverie.

It was late October, the year 1876, and a beautiful autumn season had graced us with its presence. The weather in such transient moments oftentimes can be a capricious child. The coldness in the air a sure warning that winter was coming to swaddle everything in its white blanket for a time.

Such things could never be predicted then, not like now, so when the first of the snow fell, the large iridescent flakes dancing through the air around us, I was not eager to welcome it. The same, however, could not be said about my companion.

"I really don't see what's so exciting. It's snow," I said, completely exasperated by the growing snow drifts finding their way onto my path.

It came out more of a snarl of sheer frustration, the battle lost already. My lovely new silk shoes were ruined by the small white specks that landed, melted on the delicate fabric. If I was forced to admit it then, it would have been easy to concede that one pair of shoes should not have warranted my foul mood, and yet they were my favourite pair that week. I will not pretend that I have no weaknesses; there are many flaws in me, and one of them is fashion.

"It's first snow, Pamela. A new beginning in a way. Do you not enjoy the longer nights the season has to offer?" He ignored my sulky mood as any parent would.

Though he wasn't my parent in the human sense of the word, he was the one who made me vampire.

My maker.

He became my father, brother, lover, friend. My one companion through the endless nights of our existence.

Eric the Northman is everything and anything I have ever needed at any given moment. Right then, he was just irritating, something he had made a habit of being when around me. Over the years it turned into a game, one he is still a master of, and I but a young pupil.

"It falls, and then melts, ruining all of my best shoes and gowns thanks to your insistence we walk everywhere," I whined. There was no bite to my words; we'd had this discussion for the last five years since we came to St Petersburg.

"It'll give you a reason to visit the modiste again," he pointed out.

I looked up at his face; his eyes sparkled with humour, though there wasn't a hint of it anywhere else. I'd learnt to read his handsome features, enjoying the game of deciphering his moods from the close connection between us. A connection that intertwined us on a more intimate level than two human beings could ever be.

The streets were dark around us save for the flickering gas lit lamps, a novelty in this country, though not so novel for me. I'd travelled enough in civilised places to have become accustomed to certain luxuries. Eric was forever telling me how spoiled I was. It was true. I neither denied nor wanted to alter that truth. Neither Eric nor I needed the extra light; our vision was near perfect in the dim darkness of the night. Even with clouds swaddling the moon and stars above us in a plushy blanket, the night was bright.

A smile tugged at my mouth as I realised his obvious ploy. Eric was as indulgent with me as my own human father had been, betimes more so. I didn't need a reason to visit the modiste; as a matter of fact I had visit Madame Fioriche just last week. She had a lovely fashion plate of a new evening gown I was of a mind to order in beautiful cobalt blue silk. Maybe the blue shoes with the silver thread to match—

I was rudely snapped out of my thoughts as Eric's arm grabbed me by the waist, picking me up effortlessly off the ground as he moved. The extra speed would have made us a blur to human eyes as he flew us into the darker side alley. The impact of cold hard stone against my back wasn't cushioned by the fur coat, or the silky dress that acted as a barrier. Lust rose in me at the same time as mild pain spread down my back, a pleasured kiss searing my blood.

I had been vampire for almost a decade, we had been together for just as long, but his close proximity, combined with a look that spoke of wicked things done in the night, never ceased to make my body ache for him.

"What are you doing?" I whispered, and my voice came out husky.

My face instinctively turned up to his as he pushed me further into the uncompromising cold wall, lifting me up to his level. Eric was tall, all lean muscle and strength, uncompromisingly male. I savoured the sensation of the almost painful hold he had on me.

"I'm providing you with a reason to order a new dress," Eric said with a promise of something wicked in his words. His lips descended onto mine before I could so much as voice a protest; not that I would have.

My agitation over the ruined shoes melted under Eric's ceaseless ministrations. It was ever so hard to resist him in this kind of mood. Not that I will ever be able resist him; it isn't part of my nature. He is my maker, and will forever be a part of me, his moods influencing mine, his happiness an integral part of mine. Besides, Eric has never forced me into any situation I would find truly distasteful, and I have yet to find anything that would leave me ashen.

His kiss turned from teasing to demanding and I responded in kind, playing a dangerous game with lips and tongue and fangs. My hands tugged at his hair, demanding more, messing up the long blond locks I had taken great care to style earlier that night.

I licked his fangs, enjoying the shudder that went through him. His body bucked into mine, and even through all the layers of our clothing it was hard to miss Eric's readiness. I felt myself grow wet with anticipation, savouring his reaction.

His lips moved as he trailed kisses down my neck, sending hot pulses through my cool body, but even the thought of sating my sexual hunger wasn't enough of a reason for me to lower myself to the standards of a street doxy.

"Eric, I won't have sex in an alley," I said, trying to muster up the appropriate level of sternness, yet even to me the denial sounded hollow.

My body betrayed me as it so often did with him. I couldn't seem to stop my hands from massaging the back of his neck, encouraging his current activity. It wasn't that we hadn't before, on more than one occasion, but the snow—even for a vampire the chill would be uncomfortable.

He nipped my neck before moving his head away. I couldn't help the moan escaping my lips as his fangs cut my skin in the process. The pain was exquisite when it shot through my body, leaving behind a raging need for more. More pleasure, and more pain...blood, sex, everything I knew he had to offer. His tongue came back to lap at the pooling blood, lips went around the small wound, pulling just enough for me to see stars under my eyelids.

"Then let us go somewhere more civilised," he said with mock seriousness as he lifted me into his arms. I squealed in delight while we sped through the darkened streets, his good mood finally winning over my sour one.

The house we stayed at was almost civilised for this part of the world. It wasn't like we had a lot of options. We needed a residence with a secure place to sleep, and this one was perfect.

It belonged to Admiral Gregory Kushilev, who believed Eric to be his distantly related nephew from England. Of course Eric did glamour him into such knowledge, as well as making sure he was to spend his winters in the country as opposed to coming to St Petersburg for the season. His wife was not happy about missing the social season, but then nobody ever asked her. Women, human women, were to obey and all the rest of those dreary things that you promise during a marriage ceremony I gladly left behind in my old life. Russian people seemed to take these vows particularly seriously.

We'd been staying here for several seasons, and the bedroom that we used had a special panel in the wall leading to another room, something only we knew.

"Dobri vecher, Barin," I heard Donsov say as he opened the front door, anticipating our entrance as always.

"It has been," Eric said, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards. Donsov did a little dance back as Eric expertly manoeuvred me inside.

I tried to feel embarrassed over the indignity of the situation, came up with none, so settled for a frown, since it wouldn't look good in front of the help if I didn't at least look displeased by the manhandling. I couldn't hide the knowledge that I was enjoying myself from Eric.

"Will you require anything before I retire?" Donsov asked without a hint of emotion escaping his façade.

I valued good help, and since we paid the staff here while in residence, they were all fiercely loyal.

The emancipation had left many of the lower class struggling. Freedom has a bitter taste when one isn't given the means to enjoy it. The reform, while giving them rights, had left them more vulnerable to the whims of the upper class. The staff at Admiral Kushilev's townhouse did not suffer along with the majority of the populace.

"I believe Pamela would enjoy a bath in a couple of hours," Eric told him, a leer evident on his face and masculine pride coursing through his voice. I would have blushed at the not so subtle subtext, but I was not the modest young miss that my face would have you believe.

I'd been turned at the sweet age of nineteen, and had been with Eric for over a decade. I was never overly modest, even during my human life, and any left over naïveté was quickly gone under Eric's tutelage.

"Of course. Barinya, would you like Natasha to put it in your room or in Barin's?"

If the butler (that would be the equivalent of his position in the household in England) had a particular opinion on my wanting to bath at six in the morning, he remained silent on the matter. The vagaries of masters were not something questioned by servants that were paid well.

"My room will be fine, Donsov," I said to him before focusing back on Eric. "Now, I believe Pam would enjoy it if you would stop manhandling her."

"If you insist," he told me with a mocking twist to his lips.

Oh, I didn't like the sound of that at all.

He didn't put me down downstairs like I'd hoped, but threw me on the bed the minute he walked into his room. I fell in a graceful heap of dress, petticoats, and fur, fractionally missing the large wooden posts that held up the canopy.

"That's not exactly what I had in mind," I confessed sourly. My hands flew to my hair in a futile attempt to straighten it; the run, and now landing were hell on a girl's coiffure.

"And here I though you wanted to be home?" He was already out of his coat, and his dexterous, long fingers were tugging at his cravat. Sensuous movements, yet he wasn't ever aware of his own allure at such times. Even though I knew his sexuality to be a finely honed weapon, it was the times when he would use it without underlying designs in mind that it is most potent.

I watched, captivated by the naked desire on his face for me, and the show he so graciously provided. The light from the fireplace cast its radiance on him, making normally white skin glow softly with a golden undertone that had been lost during the transformation centuries before I had been born.

Now that we were in private, I loosened the rigid control I'd learned to hold over my vampire instincts. My fangs descended, paying silent homage to Eric's more than adequate charms. He looked devastatingly handsome, and I was grateful all over again that he'd chosen me for his child.

"Would you like some help with that?" I questioned him, my voice languid with promises.

I too was learning the arts of seduction, he was the finest teacher.

I have learned more about pleasure from Eric than any being has a right to; he is an expert after centuries of practice. I have learned that the pleasures he taught me made my feedings all the more flavoursome. The flavour rich, sweet, satisfying in a way only a vampire could appreciate.

Tendrils of arousal laced with need blossomed inside my body. A need that was ever present, sometimes burning as brightly as the sun, and other times simmering just under the surface, waiting, watching.

Eric winked at me as his fingers pausing on the first button of his vest, and I was there in a human heartbeat, divesting him of it. His shirt followed next as it slid gracefully from his muscled arms. I trailed my fingers over the naked skin, revealing in the barely sheathed strength under my fingertips, savouring the scent of his arousal as I left red marks on the perfect white of his skin.

Even back then I held no illusions that our intimate relationship was based on love. Yes, we shared a kind of love, but not in this.

Lust.

Now that was a powerful emotion I prescribe to. Savour and revere. And when that fades, as these things so often do, we have our friendship. We always found new things to lust after and enjoy, together or apart.

Yet that day would be long in coming, we had a while before our fascination with the other would lessen, a while yet for us to need space from each other.

A while before I'd need to walk the path of a solitary vampire.

His body was beautifully sculpted, and I enjoyed the process of undressing him. There is something completely sinful and illicit in undressing a man like Eric while you are still wearing all your clothes. He stood, patience personified as he let me take my time, but I could feel the tension in his muscles as he held back, passion brewing behind the calm façade.

"You are still dressed." The timber of his voice slid through me, more delicious than a physical caress.

I nipped at his chest playfully, scrapping my fangs over his white skin. Eric threw his head back with a pleasurable groan as they left a trail of blood behind. My tongue worked soothingly over already healed skin as I licked off his blood, the fresh infusion only heightening own frenzy, strengthening the already strong bond between us.

"I believe you mentioned my needing to visit the modiste," I inquired with a raised eyebrow as I met his eyes. They glinted like obsidian gems in the firelight, not a speck of his usual cool blue present anymore.

His head bent down to mine, our lips inches apart, he said, "So I did." Then he closed the distance, and the contact was exquisite in its power. I heard the rip of fabric while we kissed, and within moments I was naked, pressed against him as he proceeded to move us towards the bed. His large hands held me to his body. I trembled in his arms, aware of the power and strength surrounding me.

"Eric, I said dress, not coat," I whispered between kisses.

"That one was getting old," he said into my neck before licking the skin, leaving a lover's bite behind.

It was last season, true, but fur coats were not something you changed every year. Not even every other year.

Still. I wasn't about to argue with him then, given that his lips found my earlobe. He sucked, biting down on the delicate skin, I moaned. His hands travelled down my body, and I felt my knees get weak as he started to explore me with his long fingers. I let myself enjoy the sensations before wrapping my hand around him.

I had discovered (to my delight) that Eric was not an average-sized man in any respect. He knew how to use his body to his advantage. His fingers slid over my nub, drawing a delicate pattern around it, pulling, circling, pinching. I whimpered as my body grew taut under his ministrations, my heightened vampire sense making me even more susceptible to his charms. He growled as my body rushed into the first orgasm, my fingernails leaving bloody trails when pleasure rippled through me, blooming like the first flower of spring: joyous, and very much welcome after a long drought.

I went down on my knees in front of him, legs too shaky to hold me. He let me go. My tongue darted out to lick his tip. The pale red liquid of anticipation tasted wonderful, and I swirled the taste in my mouth, savouring it, him.

I had yet to get bored of this. He was magnificent, and I had the pleasure of enjoying him night after night. With my heightened sexual cravings and vampire stamina, I even wore him out on occasion.

I tightened my lips around him, and heard him growl. He pulled on my hair, pushing himself further into my mouth. I didn't need to breathe, and I had learned how to accommodate all of him. He did enjoy that very much.

I watched his face while I worked him. Eric always looked at me. His eyes burning into mine while I had him in my mouth was one of the most sensual experiences; I enjoyed watching ecstasy built in him as I pleasured him.

I knew the moment he was close. I knew exactly what I needed to do to get him over the edge. I didn't do it. I stopped.

"Pamela. What are you doing?" He practically growled out the question.

Moving back quickly, I climbed on the bed. He stood there, naked and completely, gloriously aroused, shaking with being so close to the edge. I admired all of him. My maker was delicious. I licked my lips, anticipating tasting him again, feeling him as he stretched me, moving in me with a speed and strength only a vampire could.

"I want you to watch me," I said as my hands moved down my body, exploring the curve of my breast, circling around the budding nipple, then trailing down the smooth skin of my stomach.

Down. Further down to the hollow between my thighs. My skin was taut with anticipation, tight with need. I moaned as I reached my goal: my already over-sensitive centre, deliciously tender after the recent pleasure, moist and ready for him.

Eric licked his lips as he watched me shudder, his eyes were following my progress though he stayed still. I felt the stirrings of amusement through our bond, but it was washed away by lust and hunger. My hands moved onto my inner thighs, and I spread my legs slowly in front of him. Leaving myself open, vulnerable in a way that spoke of trust as nothing can.

"Bite me."

He did.

He bit my clit just before I felt him entering me. The pleasure from a bite like that could only be described as transcendent; no human could possibly survive it, as it would be too much for them. I felt him growl above me as he pounded into me, each thrust bringing him flush against me, making me shudder in mindless pleasure. Faster, he was pounding into me with all the speed a vampire has, and then he faltered, roaring above me as I felt his seed fill me just as my inner walls clenched around him yet again.

I let him lie on me while he recovered, enjoying the solid weight of him. My fingers traced slow patterns on his back, which was still slick with blood from the marks that had already healed. I was looking forward to licking him clean later.

"We have the king's party tomorrow night," I said, as I mentally went through my wardrobe for the right outfit to impress Wladimir, the ruler of the vampires in St Petersburg.

Each major town in Europe has one; the system set up centuries ago. Our way of life mayhap has more violence and blood than that of humans, and some would call it animalistic, yet it is not so. The governance of my world is much more rigorous and structured than that of humans. Our rulers are ruthless and cunning. They have to be, in order to control the populace.

Wladimir was a particular favourite of mine, since unlike most rulers, he didn't have his head stuck…well, you get the idea. He reminded me of Eric, though a darker version of him in every respect. I liked that about him.

"Yes. Which means our meal will have to be a quick one." Eric rolled off me then, sprawling out on the extra-large bed we had put in this room for him when we moved in. "It also means we'll have to be on good behaviour all night. I hate politics."

Something I've come to understand over the years is that our views on the matter are completely different.

Even as a child I had enjoyed watching the flows and undercurrents in social gatherings. I had learned from a very young age how to use such things to my advantage, and now, as a vampire, the game had higher stakes.

In some cases literally.

Eric's somewhat rash temperament wasn't really meant for such things, although he was getting better with me at his side to temper him. He would make a powerful monarch if he learnt to control himself better; with me at his side…the possibilities were limitless. Yet, I knew he had no taste for power.

"Maybe we can call on the twins. I don't remember receiving any interesting invitations for tomorrow night. Besides, we wake up earlier than most social events start, I'm sure they'll be at home around six." I rolled over, resting my head on my arm as I looked at him.

His eyes were closed, he was on his stomach and the trails of blood woke my hunger. I saw the beginnings of a smile curve his lips at the mention of the Martunov sisters. They were a lovely find, and quite adventurous. I had always appreciated women, but sharing a lovely meal like that with Eric always made dinner more pleasurable.

His fingers traced down my thigh with renewed determination I could not have mistaken. "I enjoy watching the three of you together."

I enjoyed him watching me in general, something I indulged in for the remained of the night.