If looks could kill, there would be nothing left of Tara except for an explosion of blood smeared throughout the road. She had tricked her. The bitch had tricked her, and the only salvation that she had was the fact that Eric stepped towards her. Because, as furious as Tara had just made her, she was still hers, and she was still fucking livid at her own maker.
Ex-maker. He had renounced her. He had let her go, and with the rage that the virus was already making her feel, she felt the fury that she had been burying and ignoring for years now suddenly come to the surface. If looks could kill, Eric would definitely be dead, but that wasn't how Pam would want to kill Eric. No. He deserved another kind of death. For hurting her. For betraying her. For LEAVING HER.
"I learned from the best," she sneered, stalking towards him as if she was sizing him up. As if she was going to hurt him, because she just wanted him to hurt. She just wanted him to fucking hurt for making her cry. "What the fuck are you even doing here, Eric? Don't you have your stupid sister to take care of? Or the Vampire Council? Or that fucking Sookie? Or SOMETHING more important that you have to take care of?"