@louisanasheriff liked for a starter from Pam !!
The world is black. Black and thick like tar, clinging to the edges of what used to be consciousness. Pam floats somewhere inside it, weightless, bodiless—until suddenly, a violent sensation rips through her. Dirt. Grit. Sharp and suffocating in her mouth, her nose, scratching against the rawness of her new skin. She tries to scream but no sound comes; she doesn’t need to breathe, but her body hasn’t learned that yet. Instinct claws at her spine and, before she even understands what she’s doing, her hands punch upward through the packed earth.
The night air hits her face like a slap and a kiss all at once. The coolness sinks into her bones and she gasps again, even though there is no breath to take. Every sensation crashes into her, magnified a thousandfold—the electric prickling of the wind against her filthy skin, the scent of the earth, the damp rot of moss, the faint metallic tang of blood somewhere nearby. She blinks against the dark, but her eyes don’t strain—the night lays itself bare before her, luminous and endless. She can see the shimmer of dew on every blade of grass, the glint of something pale and golden pushing up through the grave beside her.
Pam’s heart, which no longer beats, lurches in her chest. She knows. Before she even sees his face, she knows. ❛ You—❜ she croaks, her voice raw, her throat still clumsy with the memory of breathing. ❛ You did it…❜ Her new vision sharpens further, and when her eyes find him something inside her shatters and reforms all at once. The air seems to crackle between them. The universe shrinks until it is nothing but the sight of him, her maker, her savior, her eternal future. Pam’s lips part, and a rush of laughter bubbles up from her chest—low, throaty, almost manic. She brings a dirt-streaked hand to her cheek, and the sensation is a symphony, a thousand violins screaming across her nerves. Even her own touch is a revelation now.
The hunger roars up next, feral and aching, curling around her like a second skin. It gnaws at her belly, pounds behind her eyes—but it doesn’t drown out the dizzying swell of devotion rising inside her. ❛ Eric Northman—❜ she breathes his name like a prayer, her voice catching, colored with something richer, darker than gratitude. Reverence. Worship. Love, even. She doesn’t know yet, but she just knows it will not fade. Her blue eyes, bright and wild with unshed blood-tears, find his, and she sees the universe inside them: endless, savage, beautiful. Her smile, slow and small at first, stretches wider, trembling with emotion. ❛ I owe you my life, ❜ she whispers, voice thick, soft as sin. ❛ For eternity. ❜ The words are a vow. A bond. A surrender. Pamela Swynford De Beaufort understands one simple, undeniable truth: she belongs to him, utterly and forever.
