A/N: The feedback on this story is making me giddy I swear. I'm loving the fact that you all are loving this story. Here's the chapter six and if you have time to spare, drop me a couple lines letting my know what you thought!

Happy reading!

The bond between Maker and Progeny was both a blessing and a curse. It was a connection that was unparalleled by any other; a permanent blood tie that lasted forever and a day and could only be severed by six simple words and only if both parties were willing to part ways. Your thoughts and feelings were a virtual open book unless of course you learned how to effectively turn the pages or snap the volume shut altogether. Shielding was a skill that took a great deal of conscious effort and concentration.

It was a skill Tara had yet to master apparently because Pam knew the exact moment when her progeny kissed that girl.

She had returned to their underground quarters with a human female for them to share – a shopkeeper from Royal Street who had just been locking the door to her small boutique. Her cropped curly hair and rustic complexion bespoke of her Creole heritage and the beast within the blonde vampire had purred with glee.

It had taken all of five seconds after the initial shock and the expected terror on the human's end of things for Pam to get the pretty young woman to see reason. No human could resist a gaze into her cobalt blues, they'd been her most effectively dangerous weapon since her human days. Eric had once likened the blue of her eyes to the call of the sea. They lured helpless victims in and then drowned them within their depths.

Once she felt Tara awaken for the night, it was as if a light switch had been flicked on somewhere in the center of her chest followed by the humming buzz of their connection. Shortly after Tara's undead body reanimated, Pam felt the rush of emotions that were a result of her antics from the night before. A sliver of guilt shot through the blonde's heart. She enjoyed torture as much as the next vampire but she wasn't a sadist when it came to the feelings of Tara and Eric. She very much took them into account and she didn't enjoy hurting them. Especially not Tara who had known hurt her entire life. She didn't want to add to it. She did love her progeny but showing it? Expressing it? She didn't know where to start and she needed Tara to be patient with her. Just for a little while longer. They had eternity. What was the rush?

The instant Pam returned the nightclub with the Creole blood bag in toe, she knew Tara wasn't there and judging by the confliction skipping through her chest she had a damn good idea on just where her precocious Child might have wandered off to. Or to whom, rather.

Her first instinct was to summon her baby vampire, give her a thorough tongue lashing regarding the dangers for a newborn traipsing around the Crescent City – never mind that said newborn have proved more times to count that she could handle herself – and then send her to bed with nothing but a cold bottle of True Blood for dinner. But she didn't do that. No. She wanted to wait and see how things were going to pan out.

Making quick work of her meal though barely registering the sweet and spicy tang of the girl's blood, Pam sent the human on her blissfully glamoured little way before perching onto Eric's throne and tuning back into the current of feels coursing through her chest.

Nervousness quickly fluttered to excitement which gave way to happiness. Happiness shifted into incredulity before tapering off to contentment.

And then they were kissing.

Pam pinched the bridge of her nose and heaved a sigh. Of anger? Frustration? Sadness? She didn't know. She just wasn't sure. Over the course of a century her emotions had been warped and controlled to the point where she could only identify a select handful. All of the others fell into the box marked 'feelings' and that particular box was duct taped shut and packed away into the further recesses of her psyche, only managing to escape ever so often and then only when those she actually cared about were concerned.

This was her fault and she knew it. She had driven Tara to this point, driven her to find some sort of solace wrapped in the arms of another woman. If she had just sucked it up and put on her big girl panties, Tara would be at Fangtasia right now and they would be sharing the Creole girl. Maybe after that Pam would finally sit her Child down and just talk to her. That was what Tara had really wanted, for her to stop shutting her out and just tell her what it was. She could do that, couldn't she? And she would! And then who knew? Maybe then she could correct her mistakes from the night before and really give her progeny the loving she deserved. It had been far too long since they'd been intimate and that quick tryst on the beach couldn't really be counted could it? No, tonight she'd show her just another perk of being immortal. Just as soon as Tara got –

Pam was out of the throne and on her feet in an instant, her fangs dropping with a sharp, solid click as potent pain and sheer panic flooded the bond, seizing control of all five of her heightened senses in a powerful vice grip. Whatever was happening at that moment was not good at all and while she didn't know what the hell was going on, Pam was sure of one thing however. Tara was in trouble.

She sped out of the club, Tara's name a whisper on her lips as the throbbing in her chest and vibrating pulses beneath her skin acting like a supernatural GPS system directing right to her progeny's location on St. Charles Avenue.

Only she didn't get that far.

"Where do you think you're going you fanged freak?"

That was the last thing she heard before two small pops of a silenced pistol rang out and she crumpled to ground, screaming from the agony of having both her knee caps shattered by the silver hollow point bullets.