The Hunter's Vampire {Re-writing}

Chapter 75 Flaring Energies

Two hours earlier...

A sharp intake of oxygen filled his lungs properly as Samson rose from his slumber. He ran his hands all over his body, feeling for any injuries, for something... he exhaled in relief when he found no such thing, slumping his shoulders. Thank the Heavens. Samson closed his eyes for a moment as he hugged himself, then froze. "I know you're there." He said, opening his eyes. The room might have been dim and foreign, but his senses hadn't disappeared. He was still alive and kicking after his encounter with the Vampire.

"Yes. I'm aware that you know." Wicker said as she removed herself from the shadows in the furthest left corner of the room where the light couldn't reach.

Samson's eyes widened at the gorgeous dark-skinned woman, her slender body shimmering with what seemed like gold specks, and her attire-he cleared his throat at the sheer black fabric that clung to her hips and bosom but hung loosely over her as a loin cloth would. "What are you?" He couldn't properly catch onto her scent, but she did seem to smell like a cool breeze hinted with ash. Samson swallowed around the lump in his throat at how this woman was unknown to him. His eyes flickered to green, and he followed her closely as she carefully moved towards him, yet not threateningly.

"Don't worry. I won't harm you. I'm Wicker, the familiar of the Witch Vidaldus. I'm normally either a calico cat or a smoky tattoo on his skin. I've been tasked with watching over you for any..." she ran her eyes up and down his person slowly, "lingering traces of arousal."

"Hah, and then what, you'll stop me?" Samson scoffed but swallowed tightly when her left eye flared gold as the other darkened into obscurity.

"Precisely. Anyway, you seem to be functioning regularly. If you continue to do so, I'll let you join the rest of the supernaturals, and then you could explain your attack." Wicker said.

Samson noted how her voice was like a sweet echo that made the skin tingle with goosebumps. He narrowed his eyes on her once her eyes returned to their mismatched colors, the right white and the left hazel. "I don't think you can take me if I wanna leave." Wicker's pupils darkened, and her aura seemed to grow to a stifling point. Samson questioned himself as he held her gaze.

Wicker hummed. "I can take you, but if you get too flustered, I can kill you by consumption. I can absorb the life force from any living thing I want, so don't try your luck, Wolf. I'm being polite."

Samson didn't like being in this house. He ran here purely on instinct, not intending to stay or be held captive. The Familiar stood before his bed to the left, and he could now see how truly stunning she was. What Familiar looked this enchanting?

"You're not a prisoner, but you attacked several Witches and harmed an ally in your wake. Please heed my warning and understand my caution. You were monstrous, Samson Duncan. That alone made you a threat to us all."

"Monstrous, huh?" Samson looked down at his palms now, seeing himself transform in his mind, and chuckled without humor. "That was the first time that that happened. I've never not had control over my transformation... even on full moons. This heat was frightening. Is everyone okay?"

Wicker winced as his voice broke and lifted a hand to rest over his palm, which paled in comparison to her dark skin. It was like night and day... "Everyone is okay now. Magic does wonders, and this coven is strong. No one blames you for what happened because no one could predict it. You're hungry. Come eat." Samson looked up at her, and she allowed him a small smile. He chuckled for real this time and sighed, resting his forehead on her shoulder.

"You're warmer than you seem. And here I thought you would hurt me." Samson mumbled, humming when he felt the brush of her hand through his hair.

"I would only ever hurt you if you brought harm to my Witch. I may be a dark faery, but I know compassion." Wicker whispered. Samson nodded.