Dearest Forsaken

She was long gone by the time he came. Her pale blue eyes were unflinching as they peered into eternity, her mind traveling to places humans could scarcely imagine, let alone hope to visit. She pondered her maker's whereabouts and whether he'd be angry to learn that she, too, was a maker now. He would never find out, Pam decided as her latest lover collapsed on top of her from the weight of ecstasy she hadn't been privy to. She fought the urge to abuse her strength as the newborn vampire feverishly kissed her neck. What he lacked in skill and rhythm he certainly made up for in sheer enthusiasm, but Pam had already grown tired of his efforts.

Her plan had simply been to drain him, as she'd done with countless other men she'd stalked along the hardscrabble cobblestone streets of New York, darkened alleyways of San Francisco and the quiet countryside of her native England. But there was something different about her latest prey, something that piqued her curiosity. He was hearty and strong from farm work like all those who'd come before him, but unlike them he'd yet to be hardened by years of backbreaking toil and seasonal spells of soul crushing failure. There was an honest quality in his eyes and a certain sweetness to his smile that made her want make a mark upon him like a child eager to trudge through freshly fallen snow.

It was a whim, not at all planned, but Pam held fast to the idea just the same. She felt an alluring shiver creep along her spine as the scenario played out in her mind's eye. She would snatch away his humanity and expose the dormant beast that lurked in the hearts of all men. It would be a science experiment of sorts, she mused, a means to understand her kind that much better. And, of course, it would be something to assuage her boredom while her maker was away. More than that, it would be the greatest gift she could ever bestow upon a human, a gift of life in death.

And so she revealed herself to him, an alluringly feminine apparition alone in the darkness, calling out like a mythical siren from a cautionary tale sailors told to pass the time between ports. He offered to aid her, as she expected he would, invited her into his cottage. And in turn she offered him power beyond belief and an eternity of ecstasy.

She was a woman, the likes of which he'd never seen in his small seaside village. So it came as no surprise to Pam when he gave himself to her willingly. He knew not, however, what he would lose in the process.

Turning Collin was an altogether anticlimactic experience. Still, Pam found the immediate results satisfying. She'd spent so much of her human life plagued by uncertainty and fear, both for herself and the women in her charge, pleasuring men who treated her as a plaything with zero value outside of their own sexual amusement. But no longer did Pam fear. She was in complete control now, commanding men to do as she pleased when it pleased her.

If only they could actually please her.

"As your maker, I command you to…do a handstand…with one hand."

She muttered her commands now, tired of even voicing the words. After little more than two days, Pam had run out of amusing diversions. Like a cat with a mouse, she'd entranced her prey and toyed with him until she wanted little more than to break his neck and move on to more fascinating pursuits like beautiful clothes, beautiful women, and getting beautiful women out of their beautiful clothes.

Being a maker was tedious work, work she had no interest in performing. It was hard enough securing her own meals; she didn't need the added headache of hunting for two. Her progeny seemed to exist in a constant state of hunger and she wasn't about to play nursemaid to some suckling baby vampire.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she asked, her tone as harsh as the grip she held on the farm boy's neck. He'd stupidly attempted to feed from her wrist.

"I thought, " he stammered awkwardly, not yet used to talking with his fangs. "I thought I might have a drink."

"We don't feed from each other, haystack," Pam replied, pushing him away from her so forcefully that he landed on his ass halfway across the room.

"Why not?" he asked, his tone more curious than obstinate.

"We just don't," she said while adjusting her dress. "It's in the vampire bylaws."

"What's a bylaw?"

Pam rolled her eyes; he was so stupid it was almost cute. Almost.

"Listen, Cullen-"

"Collin," he corrected her, though not forcefully enough for her to take him seriously.

"Whatever," Pam dismissed him as she pinned her hair back into place. "It's been grand, but I'm bored."

"Wait, you're leaving?"

"I am," Pam answered cheerfully, her thoughts already occupied with all she planned to see and do next in a world that was gloriously without borders. "Have a nice life."

"You can't leave me like this. I'll—I'll starve!"

"Come now," she soothed him pinching his pale cheek with matronly playfulness. "Don't sell yourself short."

Collin frantically pulled his pants on, tripping over his own feet in the process. "But I'm your responsibility, you said so yourself. You said I belong to you."

Pam turned to her progeny and sighed impatiently.

"As your maker, I release you, renounce the ties of our blood and so on and so forth. There, now you belong to no one."

Collin's voice rose with panic and confusion.

"What do I do? How do I survive?"

"Not my problem," Pam said, almost melodiously, as she walked out the door and out of the newborn vampire's life. It wasn't long before she heard him trailing behind her, his bare feet shuffling along the stone path that spanned from the entrance of the cottage to a small dusty road. Halting his advance, Pam pressed the point of a stake against his broad chest.

She hadn't yet killed a vampire. How ironic, she thought, that the one she'd given rise to would be her first.

"Do it. Please," Collin pleaded. "I am not afraid." His voice was breathy with desperation, leaving Pam without a doubt that ending his misery would be a kindness.

But she was not kind.

"Pam!" the newborn vampire screamed in desperation as his maker turned from him and vanished.

"Pam?"

Tara uttered her name gently, mindful of the delicate situation she found herself in. Sheltered in shadow and darkness, Pam was uncharacteristically quiet. Contentment mingled with uncertainty as their limbs twined effortlessly about each other. Never had they been so close yet felt so distant, which is why she was caught off guard when Pam shifted upward and assertively closed the distance between their lips. It was a fleeting kiss that quickly gave way to another and yet another still, until the emotional intimacy they'd shared only an hour before was overshadowed by an aggressively physical exercise that felt more frantic than affectionate.

"Slow down, baby, I'm not going anywhere," Pam reassured her as she pulled away just long enough to marvel at Tara's face, punch-drunk with desire, her dark eyes remarkable in their intensity. Accepting the unspoken challenge, she rose to sit astride her, wielding sex as her sword and shield. Knowing what Tara knew awaited her, few others would have been able to keep their cool. But she had been there and done that before, having felt the brunt of both in the early days of their courtship, when every attempt to breach the icy fortress surrounding her maker's heart was met with fiery resistance.

"Which is more than I can say for you," Pam said, placing her palm against Tara's chest to hold her down with little effort as she dismounted her.

"You're joking."

"No, you are, if you think me sitting on your face makes us a happy family," Pam shot back, pausing to protract her fangs and pierce her index finger. "You should feed soon, you're not healing," she added, wiping the blood across the bite marks marring Tara's neck.

Tara swallowed, a bitter cocktail of resentment and shock, the moment she felt her skin mend. It was only hours before that Pam had clawed at her in a feverish attempt to drive them closer together, only hours before that she'd fed from her when closeness wasn't enough. And now she lorded above her, shamefaced and disgusted.

Tara rose to stand, defiant and tall despite her slight height.

"If you're going to treat me like a trick, at least let me pay you for your time."

It was a low blow and she knew it, but Tara Thornton hadn't survived immortality by fighting fair. She wanted her words to wound, if only to prove to herself that she was able to elicit more feelings from Pam than lust and orgasms.

"As if you could afford my time," Pam sallied, her voice as smooth as the black silk robe she slipped into. "I'll have Nola ready for you on Tuesday," she continued, dismissing her progeny as though she were little more than poorly paid help.

"Fucking typical," Tara groused, hastily recovering and donning her carelessly discarded clothes. Her search ground to a halt as quickly as it started. Something was missing.

Without a word Pam plucked a badly torn shirt off the lamp behind her and daintily held it between her fingers. "You're welcome," she offered, seemingly delighted by Tara's crestfallen expression.

"That was my favorite shirt."

"I know," Pam said gingerly before dropping the shirt into her progeny's hands.

Tara stared down at the shirt and chuckled at the absurdity of its condition. She soon sobered as she realized the love she'd once prized above all might somehow be worse for wear. Suddenly, it no longer mattered to her whether she or Pam was more at fault; Tara would shoulder the blame if it meant salvaging what was left of their relationship.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" Pam asked skeptically, her hand almost reflexively moving to rest on her hip. Tara's downturned eyes still focused on the tattered shirt in her hands. Had she looked up she would have seen lynx like eyes staring at her as though she'd just laid a claw trap.

"For trusting you. For not trusting you. For leaving." Tara answered tiredly, her voice wavering like a white flag. "For staying. For making love to you. For whatever the fuck it is you think you're punishing me for, I'm sorry," she ended, a long pregnant silence punctuating her words.

"Tara, if anyone deserves to be punished in this world, it's me," Pam admitted quietly, unconsciously slipping back into the highborn English lilt she loathed as much as the humanity she'd willingly ceded. "If I told you all the things I've done…"

"I'd still want you," Tara interjected without a second's thought, almost crude in her honesty. She wanted desperately to mend the confidence Pam once held in her. "I'd still-"

The sweet poignancy of her declaration was disrupted by the now curiously intolerable sound of a child, their child, crying as she often did when she woke up alone in unfamiliar surroundings. Before Tara knew what was happening, Pam was at the bedroom door. But rather than enter the room alone, she stopped and turned to look back.

"Well?" Pam asked impatiently, rolling her eyes for good measure while she waited for Tara to get over her apparent shock and join her. "I'm going in."

Tara took one last look at her tattered shirt before gently placing it aside. Perhaps nothing was truly beyond mending.

"Right behind you."

Not gonna sit here and front that update didn't take 6 months 8/ Sorry to keep you waiting so long. Blah blah life and all that. I'd like to close these two out on a good note for all those who've stuck with them (and me) so that's what I'm gonna do. Hope you enjoyed the late...latest update!