Of Daughters And Mates Ch. 06

"Thank you, Deputy," Rebekkah said, clasping her hands in front of her and using the sides of her arms to frame her breasts in her low-cut blouse. "I appreciate everything you do to keep us safe out here in the boonies."

"Of course, Ma'am," the man said to Bekkah's cleavage. Samson suppressed the urge to growl and snarl at his disrespect. "Just doing our duty. Now, I wouldn't suggest wanderin' out in the woods alone for the next few days, OK?"

"Oh, no, I wouldn't dare," Bekkah exclaimed, leaning forward in earnest emphasis. "I'll stay here with my father, where it's safe."

"Yes, Ma'am, that's a good idea." He paused for an awkward moment, then cleared his throat. "Uhm, well, stay safe, and don't hesitate to call us if you need anything." The policeman hesitated a moment longer, then turned toward the front door. His eyes drifted across Samson, then up to his stony face. The young man flinched and beat a quick retreat outside, closing the door behind him.

Once she heard the officer's car drive off, Bekkah let the act fall. "Ugh," she said with a twist of her lips, "so skeevy. He didn't look north of my neck the whole time." She flounced over to Samson and snuggled against his chest. "Not like you, Daddy."

Samson wrapped his arms around his daughter and held her close. "You were brave today, angel. Maybe a little too brave."

Her cute button nose rubbed against Samson's shirt as she shook her head. "I'm a doctor, Daddy. Maybe not a human one, but I still need to help those I can." Bekkah tilted her head back and smiled up at him. "Besides, it worked out, right?"

"So far," Sam cautioned. "Why don't you get dinner started while I fetch our guest?"

Bekkah nodded and stepped out of his embrace. "OK, Daddy. Be gentle, though. They're probably still scared."

"They?" Samson asked with an arched eyebrow.

Bekkah's shoulders rose and fell. "I wasn't going to go poking around between their legs, and they weren't in the right shape to answer any questions."

"Right shape...? So you think they're a were as well?"

"Almost certain, yeah. Too big, too smart, way too far from their species' normal range, and," Bekkah held up her finger, "those bullets were gold-plated."

"Ah," Samson said. Certainly a bit of a smoking gun. Gold tended to affect most types of werecats like silver did werewolves. And it made for an even worse and more expensive bullet than silver, so there were no reasons to own any unless something supernatural was afoot. "I'll play nice," he said. His hand came down to pat his daughter's generous rump. "Go on now. I'll be back in a minute with our guest."

"Mm, promises," Bekkah said with a languid smile and hooded eyes. She stood up on tiptoes, kissed him on the chin, then spun around and headed into the kitchen. Samson watched her go, then headed down the hallway.

A brisk knock on the closed door announced his presence. "The Sheriff's folks're gone, so it's safe for now," Samson called out. "Bekkah's getting dinner started. Why don't you come out and introduce yourself?" The faint rustle of shifting cloth sounded from within the room. The doorknob rattled, then turned, the door opening to reveal their mysterious guest.

Taller than Bekkah, shorter than Samson. Long, tousled golden-blonde hair going all the way to a slim waist. Bright, intelligent blue eyes set in an oval face. A narrow nose, high cheekbones, and pouty lips. One of Samson's shirts hung loose, exposing one tanned shoulder, the front tented around moderate-sized breasts. Flared hips hugged by a pair of Hazel's old sweatpants. She was younger than Rebekkah. 19, maybe 20 years old, if Samson had to guess.

While Samson glanced her over, the guest appraised him as well. She looked him up and down, her nose flaring. "You're the wolf," she said in a soft, subdued voice.

"Yes," he confirmed. There was no sense denying it to another shifter. Samson turned and gestured over his shoulder at her. "This way." Bare feet whispered against the hardwood floor as the guest followed him.

Samson led her to the dining room and took a seat. The young woman settled into a chair on the opposite side of the table. "My name's Samson Jacobs. This's my cabin, and you're my guest for as long as you want to stay and don't cause trouble."

Bekkah poked her head around the corner of the open kitchen doorway. "And I'm Rebekkah Jacobs. You're looking better." Bekkah flashed their guest a bright smile. "Is the gunshot closing now there's no gold inhibiting your healing?"

The girl's hand rose to her right shoulder. "Yes," she said in the same soft voice. "My name is Susannah. Thank you for your care and hospitality."

"You're welcome," Bekkah said. "Before I get too far into making dinner, do you have any dietary restrictions or allergies I need to know about?"

A flash of surprise flickered across Susannah's face. "Um, no," she said. "I don't really... like vegetables much, but..."

"Ah, that makes sense," Bekkah said with a nod. "Cats're obligate carnivores, so grains and veggies probably don't sit well with you even in human form." Her eyes flicked to Samson's. "Can I break out some steaks so Susannah has something to eat?"

"As long as you keep kosher," Samson said with a nod.

"Of course," Bekkah said and ducked back into the kitchen.

"Kosher?" Susannah asked with a note of curiosity in her voice. "You're... Jewish?"

Samson gave another nod, followed by a knowing grin. "Strange, isn't it? No one thinks of werewolves reading the Torah or keeping kosher." He lifted his hands and shrugged his shoulders. "What can I say? It's the faith I was raised in. I can't claim to be the most devoted of the Shepherd's flock, but I try where I can."

Two blue eyes blinked at him, then a giggle emerged from Susannah's mouth. She clapped her hands across her lips with a blush. "I know. Wolf in sheep's clothing, right?" Samson let his grin broaden into a smile. "You're not the first to have that thought, and yes, it's funny to me, too." Susannah's blush deepened at his gentle teasing, but her hands dropped back down to her lap.

Samson allowed the levity to linger before leaning forward onto his elbows. "Now, I don't want to dig up trauma any more than I have to," he started. "Still, if you're going to hole up here, I need to know what you're hiding from. Who was the man in the woods, and why was he armed with gold bullets?"

When Susannah shrank in her seat, Samson added in a gentler tone, "You're safe here, I promise. Bekkah wouldn't let me kick you out while you're hurt, even if I wanted to. I just need to know what I'm protecting you from."

"Uh, um," the young woman stuttered, looking down into her lap. "He... was my brother."

Moonshadow stirred in the back of Samson's mind. Pack shouldn't hunt pack, the old wolf thought with an angry growl. "Your brother came lookin' to kill you?"

"No," Susannah whispered. Her shoulders trembled. "He... came to take me back. I don't, I can't go back. I can't!" As if by magic, Bekkah was there, crouching behind the girl and wrapping her in a warm embrace.

"Shh, shh, it's OK," Bekkah said in the same soothing voice she'd used earlier in the day. "No one here will make you do anything you don't want to." Susannah half-turned in the chair and buried her head against Rebekkah's shoulder. Quiet sobs filled the air.

Well, looks like Bekkah's got herself a new pet, Samson thought, then chastised himself for it. Susannah was a young woman with some bad family history, not a housecat. Still, the way she clung to Bekkah showed she'd earned the girl's trust. Then the werepanther stiffened in Bekkah's arms. Or maybe not.

"You... you said he's your father?" Susannah asked Bekkah. Samson grimaced. He saw the next question coming. "Then... why do you smell... like him? Like sex with him?" She pushed free of Bekkah's embrace and scrambled away from the table.

The air shimmered as Susannah shifted into hybrid form, filling out her shirt and popping the seams of her sweatpants. Angry, hurt eyes found Samson's. "You're just like them," Susannah hissed through inhuman lips. "You took her, made her yours. Raped her until she loved you. How many times did it take, wolf? Fifty? A hundred? When did you start? Did she even have her periods yet?"

Guilt flooded Samson. He couldn't help but look away from Susannah's accusatory fury. It hadn't been like that, but... Bekkah hadn't had a choice. Samson didn't like to think of it, and Moonshadow's denials were fierce and angry, but they'd raped their daughter and forced the mate-bond onto her.

A fierce snarl and Bekkah's shrill shriek were all the warning Samson got before a couple of hundred pounds of angry werepanther bowled him out of his chair. He shifted to match her as they rolled across the floor. A stray thought mourned his clothes, but the sharp claws raking across his chest left him little time to indulge. "I'll kill you and free her!" Susannah yowled as her fangs reached for his neck.

"Stop!" Bekkah screamed, but the girl paid her no heed. Samson grabbed Susannah's wrists and pulled them away from his chest, but he couldn't do anything about her sharp-clawed feet except twist away as she brought them up. This is bad. He was at a severe disadvantage like this. He was bigger and stronger than Susannah, but she had more and better weapons. Plus, she was trying to kill him, but he couldn't do the same except as a last resort.

Still, Samson was far from helpless. He twisted to Susannah's side and wrapped his thighs around her nearest leg. While his move kept her from raking him with her claws, it brought his left arm across her upper body. Susannah took advantage, biting down on his forearm. Samson let out a snarl of pain, let go, and wrestled her other arm behind her back.

It cost Samson a chunk of flesh, but he tore his left arm free from Susannah's mouth. Maintaining his grip on her left arm, he hooked his right leg around his opponent's far leg, then yanked her onto her belly. Samson pushed her left arm higher and clamped his jaws around her neck, not wasting a second. "Yield," he demanded.

"Never," the werepanther spat back. Her free hand came around and scratched deep furrows in Samson's thigh. He growled in frustration and tried to corral Susannah's right hand while she bucked and writhed under him. If it weren't for the searing pain and his blood dripping all over the floor, he might even have enjoyed how her firm ass rubbed against his crotch.

"Damnit, I don't want to hurt you. Yield already!" Samson tightened his grip around Susannah's neck.

"I'd rather die," came her stubborn response.

"Stop, both of you, stop!" Bekkah shouted. Her weight slammed into them from the right side, and she wrapped them both in her arms. "Please, Susannah, please stop. It wasn't like that at all. We've only been mated a few months, and it was all my fault."

"I don't believe you. He could have ordered you to lie for him."

Rebekkah grabbed Susannah's free hand and brought it to her belly. "Does this lie? Do you see any other children around?"

Susannah stilled as she realized what Bekkah meant. "No... But still, it doesn't mean anything except he's not a pedophile."

"Please, give me a chance to explain. Stop fighting. Please? For me?"

Several tense seconds passed before Susannah slumped. "Fine."

Samson kept his jaws around the girl's neck while he dismounted her. "Shift back," he demanded, still holding her arm high up on her back. "I don't trust you very much right now. Bekkah, go get one of your mom's necklaces." Susannah sucked in a breath. If they put a gold necklace around her throat, she wouldn't be able to shift without choking herself. The material would also burn her worse and worse the longer it stayed in contact with her skin.

"No, Dad." Samson turned his head to glare at his daughter, who glared back with defiance. "I'm not going to let you torture her."

"Angel, darlin', she attacked me out of the blue. She went for my throat. If I'd been any slower, I'd be dead."

Bekkah shook her head, brown hair shimmering in the light. "Two wrongs don't make a right. No torture, no threats. We're going to have a polite conversation over dinner, like civilized people. Got it? Both of you?"

"How?" Susannah asked, her voice trembling. "He gave you an order. How are you disobeying?"

"Dad isn't what you make him out to be," Rebekkah said. "He doesn't use the bond against me." Her eyes flicked over to Samson's. "You've given me, what, six real commands in the last three months?"

Samson grunted. "Something like that, yeah. And you asked for half of them."

"Asked for?" Susannah spluttered, incredulous.

"I'll explain everything, but not until you two have cleaned up and dinner's on the table. Go on, now. And if I have to break up another fight, I'm doing it with the shotgun and some rock salt."

"What do you mean? I'm not going to let--"

Bekkah cut Susannah off. "You are." Her tone allowed no compromise. "You're going to go into the master bathroom with my dad, and you're both going to clean each other off. And you're going to bind his wounds." She glared at both of them. "Call it a team-building exercise if you want. I don't care."

Susannah's ears flattened against her skull, then she shimmered back into human form. Samson followed suit, then heaved himself up onto his feet. His jeans, ruptured by his shift and torn by feline claws, slid down off his hips. A couple of kicks got them off his legs. "Well?" he asked Susannah. "You coming?"

Blue eyes tore away from his groin up to his face. A blush bloomed across Susannah's cheeks. She stood up, holding the tattered scraps of her sweatpants against herself. "Lead on," she muttered.

Once they reached the master bath, Samson shrugged out of his ripped and torn shirt. It wouldn't even be suitable for rags, bloody as it was. "Alright, girl, strip off," he said. "Your clothes're in no better condition than mine."

Susannah wrapped an arm across her chest and covered her groin with her hand. "Like I'm going to let you get me naked," she spat.

A frustrated sigh fought its way clear of Samson's throat. "Girl, did you not hear our marching orders? I'm not going to do anything but clean the blood--my blood--off you."

The younger woman shook her head. "I don't believe you, and I don't trust you. You clean yourself up, then leave. I'll wash myself. Then we can walk out together."

Samson closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. "I've never lied to Bekkah, and I'm not about to start now. I'm not looking forward to the tongue-lashing she'll give us or sleeping on the couch, but it's better than breaking her trust." He opened his eyes and glared at the smaller shifter. "Now, get out of those clothes so I can hose you off or skedaddle and face Bekkah's wrath."

Trembles cascaded along Susannah's arms and legs. Samson thought she might break down or attack him again, but she pulled herself together after a few seconds. Her hands went to her shirt's hem and toyed with the fabric for a moment before crossing and pulling it over her head. Her pants slipped down and pooled at her ankles without her hands holding them up.

As soon as Susannah started cooperating, Samson turned away and stepped into the tub. He turned the water on but didn't bother putting in the stopper. A slight breeze touched his back as Susannah joined him. He grabbed a washrag, waved it under the tap, rubbed some soap into it, then turned to face her.

Susannah stood with her left arm straight at her side and her right hand grasping her elbow. Somehow, she managed to look both defiant and vulnerable. Other than the sutured bullet wound near her right shoulder and several thin, faded scars crisscrossing her abdomen, she looked to be in good condition. Very good, Samson thought to himself.

Her breasts were bigger than he first thought, though still well short of Bekkah's size. She had an athletic build with sleek, toned muscles shifting under her tanned skin. Samson's type leaned towards the softer, plusher side of the feminine spectrum, but he wouldn't kick a woman this well put together out of bed. His eyes dipped lower, taking in the neatly-trimmed triangle of hair pointing towards her lower lips. Samson realized where he was looking a moment too late and jerked his gaze back up to Susannah's face.

She glared back at him and lifted her chin as if daring him to comment. Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, Samson declined. Instead, he lifted the washrag and ran it across a bloody patch along her ribs. "For the record," he said by way of small talk, "my wolf is on your side. Or was, before, well."

"On my side?"

"'Pack shouldn't hurt pack' is what he said, and I agree." Samson worked his jaw back and forth, then continued, "I don't know what all happened to make you react so bad, but it can't have been good. And coming from family... there's not much worse than being betrayed by people who're supposed to love you without condition." An image of Bekkah flashed through his head, followed by a warning growl from Moonshadow.

"No," Susannah agreed, "there isn't." She took the rag from Samson and started the much lengthier task of cleaning him up. Neither of them spoke any further, unwilling to risk the tenuous truce between them.

---

"...and that's the story," Bekkah said, then popped the last morsel of steak into her mouth.

"So he did rape you," Susannah said in a dark tone. Her blue eyes bored into Samson's from across the table.

"No. Well, maybe, but not really," Bekkah protested. "I did tell Moony no, but my objection was..." she tilted her head. "Societal, not personal," she eventually settled on. "Society says incest is wrong, so I fought against it. But I always thought Dad was sexy, and I always loved him with all my heart." She tapped her chin. "Without the weight of taboo, I'm pretty sure I would've been willing to have sex with him, and the bond would've come sooner or later."

"You can't be sure of it," Susannah said, leaning forward with a heated expression. "And even if you could, he didn't give you a choice, Miss Rebekkah!"

"True," she agreed with a nod, "but not the whole truth."

"What?"

Bekkah pushed her seat back and stood up, stretching. "Moony shouldn't have bitten me to seal the bond. Daddy and I both agree with you there. But I didn't really fight it, either. You said it yourself earlier when you asked if he raped me a hundred times." She reached down to the hem of her sundress, then pulled it up and off.

Samson's eyes drank in the sight of his daughter's nude body as she made her way around the table toward him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Susannah seemed almost as entranced as he did. "A mating bond can be forced on an unwilling participant, but it can take many attempts if they fight it." She pushed at his chest when she reached Samson's chair until he scooted back well away from the table.

"I didn't fight the bond because I didn't object to it," Bekkah said as she plopped herself across his lap. "In fact, before Moony bit me, I told him to bond me. We were in the heat of the moment, so not the most secure consent, but the facts remain." Her head nestled against Samson's chest. "I love my Daddy in all his forms, and I've never been happier than I am now. That's what matters in the end."

"I hope you know what you're doing," Samson murmured to Bekkah as he felt himself stiffen beneath her.

"Trust me," she husked back. Then, louder, she said, "I want you to watch, Susannah. See our love. If you can tell me afterward it's just the bond, I'll drive you down to the train station and buy you a ticket to wherever you want to go myself." Her hands drifted down Samson's chest and tugged at his belt. He raised his hips and helped her tug his jeans down to his knees.