Samson's Lovely Mortal

Samson knew it was madness to pursue the human woman, but he was desperate. He needed sex, and he needed it soon, otherwise he’d turn into a dangerous beast whose moods could no longer be controlled. He would become a liability not only to himself but also to those around him. He had worked too hard in the last two centuries to let all his achievements go to pot because of sexual frustration.

Less than half an hour after he’d left his home, he reached his shrink’s office and stormed in. Time was of the essence. He’d never felt this kind of urgency before.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

Dr. Drake raised an eyebrow. “What’s so important that you couldn’t wait till tomorrow?”

“Something’s happened.”

He looked at him and the shrink’s eyes flickered. “Oh. Tell me who she is and what she did.”

“That’s just it. I have no idea.” Samson let himself fall into the coffin, stretching out his full length on the soft cushion.

His doctor stared at him in disbelief. Samson had never in all his sessions used the coffin and always insisted on sitting in the chair. Or paced impatiently about the room.

As Samson recalled the incident with Delilah blow by blow, Drake listened intently, taking in every word. At the same time he observed his patient’s demeanor, breathing, and movements.

“What does it mean?” Samson asked eagerly.

“Interesting. And you said the stripper left you cold after that woman aroused you?”

“Like I said. As if I’d stepped into a freezer.”

“Interesting.” He steepled his fingers in front of his face with his elbows resting on his armrests. “In our session last week you mentioned something about missing something. Can you elaborate on that?”

“Now?” Samson shot him an exasperated look.

“I think it’s important in relation to this event.”

Samson huffed. “Fine. I just—I can’t really put my finger on it. There was this void, no matter what I did, how much I achieved. It always felt as if I wasn’t complete, as if an important part of me was missing.”

“In what way?”

“Emotionally.” Samson let out a sigh. “There was this yearning for something that would finally complete me. I believed that the blood-bond would have filled that emptiness. It had to.”

“The blood-bond with Ilona? I doubt it.”

“What makes you say that, doc?”

“A blood-bond is but a formal culmination of what’s already there. The bond already exists. The ritual only formalizes it. The ritual can’t complete you, if you haven’t already found this completion in your mate.”

“I don’t get it. The ritual creates the bond. That’s what I’ve been taught.”

Drake shook his head. “A common misconception amongst our kind.”

“I didn’t feel the bond with Ilona, not like you describe it. I thought it would be obvious later, after the ritual.”

“Trust me; you’re not the only one who believes it. But if you didn’t feel the connection to her before, then you weren’t meant to blood-bond with her. It’s not something you can force. In any case, I now understand better why you reacted the way you did when things fell apart with Ilona. It all makes sense now.”

Drake got up and walked to the coffin.

“Comfortable?”

Samson’s head jerked around, and suddenly he realized where he was. He instantly jumped up, putting distance between him and the offending coffin. “What the…?” He was losing it, definitely losing it. Not only did he not understand Drake’s cryptic explanation, nothing in his life made sense right now.

“Uh huh.”

“What? Damn it, what?” Samson needed an answer. What was he paying the quack for?

“I think I know what might have happened. By being confronted with a vulnerable human, you’ve allowed yourself to become vulnerable again and stripped away your layer of protection. And as soon as you were with the vampire female, that wall went right back up, and your dick went down.”

“Thanks for the colorful illustration. I suppose you’re charging me for this insight?” As if he needed a mental picture of his limp dick.

“Hmh, a mortal. I mean, it could work. It’s entirely possible. Many of our kind have sex with humans. Of course, it would be dangerous—for her, at least, but if you were careful … Well, yes, it could work.”

Dumbfounded, Samson looked at him. What was the quack waffling about? Was he talking to himself? “Damn it, doc, what the fuck do I do now?”