A/N Hey hey me again, thanks for the support and for sticking with me. Chapter four is already written just needs typing and editing, so will probably be posted in the next couple of days.

Trigger warning for acute violence towards the end.

Chapter Three

After a few days Tara found she could get used to the very pleasurable routine of feeding and fucking with ease. Maker and Progeny would spend hour after glorious hour, worshipping each other's bodies. Nurturing their bond, planting the seeds deep for a blossoming future that awaited them.

They were lounging naked in bed. Pam was lying on her back holding her progeny close as she listened to her impart a mostly painful and tortured life story. Tara hadn't wanted to relive all her most intimate histories, but found that she couldn't refuse Pam a thing.

Together they went on a journey, from an uncertain and insecure childhood masked by confidence and sass. Together they cruised through the school years, where Tara formed strong ties with her cousin and Sookie. Pam barely contained a snarl at this, but she held herself in less she interrupt and deflate Tara's sometimes stuttering account. All these years were of course dotted and marred by her Lette Mae's 'episodes.' Pam was hissing incensed that any Mother could do that to their own child, let alone one so faithful and nurturing and caring as her Progeny. Through gritted teeth Pam spoke.

"Just say the word Tara and her head will fly." Pam held Tara painfully tight, bones crunching. But Tara didn't mind, she understood, but she couldn't answer that question. Instead she leant up to place a single kiss on Pam's lips and cheek before she settled back down and carried on, scared that she'd never get it all out otherwise.

"...and not so long ago there was Franklin." Tara finished with a shudder to which her entire frame seized up to form a tight block of muscle.

The bond had been pulsing in a steady calm rhythm, mainly due to Pam consciously meditating her energy of lover and care to her acutely emotionally vulnerable lover. At the mention of Franklin's name these pulses now jumped in red staccato, the beat was heavy and coarse as it became Pam's terror too.

As Tara painfully recounted her time with Franklin, Pam found herself holding Tara tighter. She lay butterfly kisses all around Tara's temple even as tears started sloping down her own cheeks.

When Tara was finally through. Her tears utterly spent, she wiggled in against Pam, tucking her head in under her chin. Tara took solace in her Maker's scent, letting it seep into her pores, calming her frazzled nerves.

The bond was back to a steady tranquil hum, but there was a nervous niggle coming from Tara's end.

Pam tried to lift Tara's face to her own but it required much effort. Tara didn't want to be seen, she didn't want to see the pity that would surely paint her Maker's face.

A determined tug brought a twitching chin up to Pam's level. Though eyes were closed at a tight squeeze, Pam sighed softly as she palmed Tara's cheeks.

"Tara, look at me… please." She added softly.

Pained onyx orbs finally found their mate. Tara's face winced in anticipation of the pity party that was sure to follow.

"I love you Tara… I. Love. You." Pam spoke slowly her voice strong and commanding, as eyes soft and loving took in the shaking form above her.

Tara nodded dumbly before collapsing back into Pam's embrace, her head nestled safely back in its comfy nook.

"Me too Pam." She whispered, her voice emphatic. "I love you too."

"Good." Pam concluded.

They stayed snuggled together like that for a long while, occasionally shuffling and wiggling around. Not so much for arousal, but for comfort, for safety.

For love.

Early hours of the morning found the pair out on the balcony. They sat facing each other with legs wrapped around. A mirror image of love. Tara tugged her Maker forward as she reclined back to lie down into soft silk cushions.

Hands delved down reaching their goal, they worked in unison, working slowly. Eyes locked, gazes penetrating, choking, and soulfully sincere. Pam dipped down for a kiss, twining her tongue with Tara's, drinking in her moans as she did.

Below soft fingers were stoking a fire that grew to a steady burn, hips joined in. In earnest they rolled together in beautiful harmony, wrists twisted, fingers reached up and eyes bulged. Pam drew away from Tara's lips with a sharp grasp.

So close, so they slowed.

Not yet.

A free hand palmed Tara's cheek as her Maker moved to claim her neck and throat with her lips and tongue. She bestowed kiss upon gentle kiss on smooth cocoa skin unaware that above onyx orbs were tearing at her loving caress. Tara gripped Pam hard pulling her in close, soon cradling her head then reaching down to her ass, squeezing the plump flesh.

And on they went, thrusting in sync hips rolling in their own rhythm.

It was delicious.

Tara met her end first, her lips latching on to Pam's neck as she fell into an abyss of pleasure. Her Maker soon followed, she released a low groan, heavy and long.

Tara pulled her fully back down as she continued to adorn Pam's neck and cheek with kisses. Upon reaching her ear she nibbled all around.

"Love you beautiful. I love you."

"Mm too." Was all the reply received, but Tara knew. She felt it, all around encompassing her, she reveled in it.

Ten days in, and the pair had yet to leave the room. They'd finally settled on a starting point for their travels, but they'd got no further than that.

This evening found them bathing in moonlight and candles. Tara sat up against the headboard legs spread with Pam spooned in her embrace.

Pam leant back her head resting on Tara's shoulder, on her lap was a book of poetry. Blake, to be precise, Pam had been sharing one of her greatest loves with her Progeny, and she delighted to find the pair to shared much of the same tastes.

"Sleep! Sleep! In thy sleep

Little sorrows sit and weep.

Sweet Babe, in thy face

Soft desires I can trace,"

And on it went, Tara let the imagery wash over, but her thoughts drifted to goodbyes she'd have to endure before their departure. One in particular we weighed on her more so than others.

Tara didn't want to endure it, but it had to be done. She knew she'd find no peace until their account was settled and closed. She needed to do it now, tonight, before she lost her nerve.

She needed to do this alone. A thought that scared her, but Tara knew her Maker would only heighten the tension. Besides Tara was a little unnerved by Pam's willingness to decapitate the woman on her behalf. She'd sure seemed sincere enough when she'd suggested it.

Pam noticed the drift in Tara's thoughts, she felt the cloudy grey settle in the bond as her Progeny pondered her issues.

She tilted her head to plant kisses up a strong defiant, slightly quivering jaw. "What's going on in there?" She enquired all neutral and calm.

"I need to say goodbye before we go. I need to do it tonight." She reasoned. "How long will it take for you to transfer the funds to our accounts?"

"A few key strokes love."

Pam didn't have to ask whom… she knew.

"Right." Tara sat up stiffly and gently pushed Pam forward to leap out of bed. She became a blur as she washed and dressed.

Not two minutes later Tara was dressed and ready to go. She stood before who Maker who was now sprawled across the bed on her side. Tara's stance was an expression of nerves and worry, but a clenched jaw proclaimed her intentions were strong and true.

"I'll be back before dawn. Can I take the car?" Tara muttered to her feet, but Pam was having none of it. She brought her Progeny down for a fierce toe curling kiss that sent Tara's nerves reeling, and her skin a flush with goose bumps. Tongues delved, searched for their mate and entwined, claiming what was theirs.

Tara was the first to pull back, and with eyes shining with love for her Maker, whose face she still held in her palm, crystal eyes were open and sincere. Never had a she felt a love so secure like this, as passionate as this, as fulfilling as with this Vampire before her.

Pam took Tara's hand in her own and brought it down to her chest where the bond was humming away, brimming with tenderness and affection.

"I love you. Be back by dawn. The keys are on the mantelpiece… I think."

Tara offered a nod of thanks, before she kissed Pam's forehead. There was a moment of absolute stillness as Maker and Progeny stood before one another. Then in a rush of movement, Tara found the keys and was gone with a quick snick of the door.

Pam sighed. "I'll be with you Tara. If you need me, I'll come running." She promised to the empty room.

Tara had hoped that her journey to the Reverend's house would give her time to think of a game plan. But all too soon she was driving up a pebbled driveway.

Eyes cleared from a mind's eye to focus. This was it.

Seven steps had her at a front door.

Four knocks had Lette Mae peering through a near bay window before she emitted a violent shriek of fear.

Tara rolled her eyes.

"Listen you vampire slut. I don't want no trouble you hear? The Reverend will be home any minute so you better go."

"Mama, I ain't leaving 'till you hear what I have to say. Will you just open the door." Tara waited patiently.

"No!" Lette Mae screeched.

Tara sighed. A cursory look around confirmed her suspicions, that they were soon becoming the stars of some prevalent curtain twitching. She sneered before shouting in forlorn tones.

"Oh Mama! Why do you have to treat me this way? Your own flesh and blood… well not so much blood. I'm Pam's now…" She veered off with a soft smile.

With a sucking whoosh the front door swept open to reveal a hissing Lette Mae.

"Will you be gone already? What on earth will the neighbours say?"

"Do I look like I care Mama?" Tara's fangs came into view. Lette Mae jumped.

Tara took a deep breath to gather her voice before she opened her mouth at a blaring yell.

"Hey everybody. Yeah, you Mr Robinson, you dirty fiddler you. And you Miss Edgar, how's that junkie daughter of yours doing? Me, I'm fine. I'm a lesbian vampire in love with my Maker. Haven't I turned out well!"

"Tara Mae Thornton!" Lette Mae hollered in dismay. "Shut your mouth girl." But after a sigh she finally acquiesced.

"Alright, come in, but don't come near me. I've got silver all over me and I ain't afraid to use it."

Tara smiled in victory and felt the invisible wall of tension before her evaporate, allowing her to step forward into the hallway. She offered a barely polite, sniggering. "Thanks Mama," As she passed her in the doorway.

Lette Mae took an immediate step back as she held up her silver cross from her necklace in defense.

Tara just laughed as she continued through. "Whatever Mama."

She proceeded to enter what she presumed was the living room. It was full of flowers, from the wallpaper to the soft furnishings, with a few full vases for added effect. The room was full of a sickly flowery odor, which caused Tara's nose to twitching in disgust.

Tara took a seat on a sofa and waited albeit patiently for her mother to settle. This took a while but eventually she sat down at the end of the dinning room table, which was practically in the next room.

Tara rolled her eyes once more but made a start.

"Mama, I just came here to say goodbye,"

"Oh." Lette Mae seemed perplexed.

"Yep, I'm not looking for drama or a fight. I just want to make some sort of peace with you, with us and get on with my un-dead life."

"Oh." Lette Mae mumbled again.

"I know you're not thrilled by my new … nature? And you know what? Neither was I at first. But, I'm happy now Mama. I'm with someone that I love dearly, and she…" Lette Mae gasped. "Yes, SHE… loves me too."

There was a heavy pause, and Tara saw no way of breaking it without pushing on through her thoughts.

"I don't expect you to accept me, or even… love me. I just want to be able to put you at rest in my mind, that's all. Do you get it Mama?" Tara looked up hopefully. And in that moment she looked deceptively innocent, almost human as she looked up at her mother beseechingly.

There was another pregnant pause as Tara's shoulders finally relaxed and Lette Mae collected her wits.

Tara noticed her mother grow fidgety and nervous, but she paid it little mind. She was used to seeing her mother with the shakes.

Lette Mae started looking from Tara to a nearby cabinet on her left, her gaze jaunty. Though quick eyes portrayed a scheming intent.

Tara allowed it. A sick part of her, (or maybe the beast within) was ever so tempted to let loose all the past and slug it out.

"Try me Lette Mae." Tara shrugged. "I'll even let you have the first hit." She rose her brow in invitation.

Lette Mae scrambled from her chair and went for the cabinet. She wrenched open the top middle draw and pulled out a silver dagger.

Tara's fangs clicked forcefully into view.

"Okay Mama, we'll play it your way, if we must. Bitches first."

Tara stood up offering the time honoured 'bring it on' gesture.

Lette Mae charged forward and Tara let her. With feral eyes she watched.

Dagger held high in a Psycho grip Lette Mae lurched forward.

At the last minute Tara ducked to the left in a blur, she watched honestly still stunned that her Mother, now sober would still have such venomous hatred for her own child.

"Really Mama?"

Tara deftly plucked the dagger out of her mother's grip and threw it aside, trying to suppress a howl as her fingers sizzled.

The beast within growled, she was hungry. She hadn't fed this evening, in the rush to get here, Tara hadn't even considered feeding.

All too soon the beast consumed, and Tara couldn't tame it, couldn't restrain the growl.

"Mother dearest. I. Am. Starving." Tara growled low and deep.

Lette Mae screamed for her life and made to run away but Tara easily caught her and in a haze of motion carried her Mother out of the house.

Down the street.

Out of town.

Into the wilderness.

Lette Mae screamed all the way, but once they'd made it into the woodland a vicious slap knocked her unconscious. With no preamble Tara sunk her fangs into Lette Mae's neck drinking deep and long. She didn't stop until she was full.

She paid no attention to the pulse. Although one did remain when she was done, it was jumpy and weak.

Without any regard for her wellbeing Tara dropped her mother to the ground and stepped back. Fangs clicked back into their sheaths, and Tara considered her next move.

Although the beast within purred, momentarily sated in it's blood lust there was a demon in her ear asking for more.

After years of torment, persecution, violent beatings...

The growl was back.

Tara stared down at her mother's prone form. Memory upon abusive memory flickered through her mind in violent waves.

She was on her back, still a teenager, her mother leaning over her, demanding to know why she poured all the booze down the drain. Before Tara could answer her mother rained down savage fists until she lost consciousness.

She was a young child, coming home from school to find her mother passed out in her own vomit and piss. Tara cleaned her up as best as she could trying to keep her own urged to vomit at bay as she did. Then she waited patiently bedside until her mother regained consciousness. When she did, she came too in a fit, slurring profanity as arms flayed round the bedside table to purchase upon the vase of flowers Tara had put there. Inexplicably incensed Lette Mae reached for the vase and took Tara out then too.

As the memory burned Tara's fangs dropped down again, her fists clenched, her pupils fully dilated. Before she could think she was clawing at her mother's neck.

Soon scratching, then squeezing, then rising to her full height and stamping until it snapped with a sickening crack beneath her boot.

Silence, there was absolute silence, even the crickets stopped to observe the massacre.

Tara shook her head coming back to herself in an instant. Fangs once more receded back into their beds. Tara let out a primal howl before she disappeared into the night.

Pam sat up in bed. A streak of absolute panic laced with fear shot through the bond. Pam clutched her chest at the painful ache and strength of it.

But as soon as it came it went, along with the hum of her progeny.

Tara was gone. Pam couldn't feel her at all.

Pam screamed herself horse, her face soon crumpling to tears as she collapsed back into the bed, racked with uncontrollable sobs.

NB William Blake's poem was `Sleep, Sleep, Beauty Bright'

TBC