Of Daughters And Mates Ch. 11

Author's Note: We're getting close to the end of this story now. I'm sorry for how long it took for me to get this chapter up; real life intervened. Chapter 12 is already written, and it's an extra-long one to make up for the delay. As a further note, this chapter and the two, maybe three, following it are written with interweaved POVs. Each individual character's POV is linear, but they don't all start at the same time or advance at the same pace. They will all meet up and synch again, but some characters had more to do in this time period than others.

As always, you can check my profile for updates.

======

Samson paused as he approached the front door. A trail of black dots led out of the house onto the driveway. He ceded control to his wolf, who took a deep breath through their nose. Blood, Moonshadow growled in his mind, confirming Samson's suspicion. Not Shines-With-Love or Huntress-Defiant-Of-Wounds, Moonshadow said a few seconds later, using his names for Bekkah and Susannah. A savage, feral growl rose in their throat as their thoughts synchronized. Intruder.

They pushed the door open and peeked around the frame. Inside was a scene from an abattoir. Sticky, near-black blood was splattered all over, even reaching the ceiling. At the center of a brighter red pool lay the source of the gore.

A man, maybe an inch short of six feet tall, sprawled across the entryway. His shirt, once white, was now stained a deep crimson. What was left of it, anyway. The shirt, and the flesh beneath it, were torn to ribbons around the man's belly, and his entrails spilled out onto the hardwood floor. Nor was it his only wound. The man's throat lay bare to the spine, torn out by tooth or claw. There was no sign of a weapon on him.

Defiant Huntress defended the pack, Moonbeam's-Shadow thought with a note of pride and approval.

She did, Samson agreed, but there was more than one invader. If there'd only been the one, one of the girls would've called him. The only way his first indication of an intruder would be this corpse was if both girls were incapacitated.

The fact that Moonshadow could only smell one source of blood eased their fears, but they eased their way into the house anyway. They had to be sure. Their eyes scanned every corner and cranny for threats or signs of what happened to Bekkah and Susannah.

Gouges in the hallway were their first clue. They knelt and examined the hardwood floor. Claws. Susannah's, probably, Samson concluded.

Smells like her, Moonbeam's-Shadow agreed.

The second clue came further down the hall, a fluffy towel discarded against the wall, still damp to the touch. The bathroom door stood open, and the light inside was on. Did they get attacked out of the shower? But that would mean...

...Intruders were waiting for us to leave, Moonshadow filled in. How did we not notice?

They continued the search through the rest of the house but came up empty. "This isn't the work of a random home invasion," Samson concluded as they made their way back to the entry hall. "No normal group of thugs could've stood against Susannah."

Special training, special gear, Moonshadow agreed. No blood from our pack. Planned to steal them away without hurting them.

"And the way this went down, they're well-coordinated and well-connected. There's only one possibility I can see."

Otis, came the hate-filled growl from within.

"OTS," Samson said with a nod. "They came for Susannah and took our little girl in the bargain. I might have let the first pass if it wasn't in our own home..."

...But no one touches our mate without permission, Moonshadow said, finishing his thought.

"There's no hope of catching them before they return to their base," Samson said. "They have between a half-hour and an hour's head start, and they'll have a flight waiting for them. We need to clean up this mess so there's still a home for us to return to. Then I think it's time for the Greenville Ghost to come out of retirement and take a road trip."

---

An intense headache throbbed behind Bekkah's eyes, making her regret waking up. She tried to pull her pillow over her head, only to find cold metal binding her hands together behind her back. Her eyes flew open. A whimper and a wince followed as the bright light sent daggers into her eyes. A few moments later, Bekkah risked another, more cautious, look.

An unfamiliar room greeted her. The walls were stark white and undecorated. Tilting her head to look around her, Bekkah couldn't see any furniture other than the gurney-like bed underneath her. There wasn't even a chair to sit on. Of course, since a pair of shiny steel manacles secured her feet to the bed, it didn't matter much.

No more than five minutes after she woke up, the lone door opened to admit a tall, lanky man in a white lab coat. He gave Bekkah a friendly smile and closed the door behind her. "Good, you're awake. I'm glad to see our field operatives managed to work out the correct dose for you. It would've been a tragedy to lose you, Miss Jacobs." He paused and tapped his chin. "Or would you prefer Missus Jacobs?"

Bekkah's tongue felt swollen, and her throat was dry. "Where am I? What do you want with me? Where's Anna?" She recognized this stranger's question as an attempt to build empathy and rapport and wanted nothing to do with it.

If her refusal to engage upset the man, he didn't show it. "You are in the Office of Therianthrope Study's Everglades secure research facility," he said. Surprise filled Bekkah at his candid answer, and it must have shown on her face because he chuckled and smiled at her again. "We have no reason to hide anything from you, Miss Jacobs. Indeed, we want your cooperation. As for Miss Dixon, she's been reunited with her family. They missed her terribly."

Dixon? Susannah's last name, maybe? Come to think of it, she'd never said. If so... "Her rapists, you mean. Your plan for me as well?"

The man's face tightened a fraction at Bekkah's accusation. "Is that what she told you?" He shook his head and sighed. "Young Susan has always been the rebel. She has never once been forced to engage in any form of sexual activity without her active consent, and we have the video and audio records to prove it."

"Forced or coerced consent isn't," Bekkah growled.

"Miss Jacobs, I assure you, Miss Dixon is far too valuable to us here at Otis to risk physical or psychological damage in such a manner. She represents a potentially staggering leap forward in our understanding of therianthropy. Each time we approached her on the subject, Miss Dixon was given the right to refuse—and no punishments have ever been levied against her for the handful of times when she did." The man's voice was firm, confident, and authoritative. "Nor her family members, as it happens."

A tiny thread of doubt began to worm its way through Bekkah's mind. Did Anna lie about what happened to her? Then she remembered the instant, visceral, violent reaction the werepanther had when she smelled Bekkah's father's scent on her. Her resolve returned. "I don't believe you," she said. "And you didn't answer my question."

The OTS researcher's face grew harder still. "Miss Jacobs, regardless of whatever tales Miss Dixon spun for you, you are an intelligent woman. Please, tell me what point there would be in raping a pregnant woman? What possible scientific benefit could there be? Even if what Miss Dixon told you were true, wouldn't we have other outlets for whatever sadistic lusts she described? And if not, would we have bothered to dress you?"

"For all I know, you want to study what it takes to break a mate bond," Bekkah replied. "And I hardly call putting a hospital gown on me dressing me. You invaded my home, kidnapped me, and tied me to a bed. What reason do I have to trust you?"

"Very little, I admit. We would've preferred to approach you openly," the man said, losing some of the tension in his face and voice. "Unfortunately, Miss Dixon's presence complicated matters. She's too unstable for us to risk it. If she found out you'd talked to us, she might have killed you and fled."

"Anna would never," Bekkah said with absolute confidence, "hurt me."

A sad smile crossed the man's face. "Your trust is touching but misplaced. You wouldn't be the first woman she regarded as family to die by Miss Dixon's claws. Did she ever tell you how she escaped? No?" He shook his head. "She staged a fight with her mother to distract the guards. It worked—a little too well. Rose Dixon died of the wounds her daughter inflicted on her a day later. A terrible loss felt by our entire community."

Bekkah's eyes widened in shock. She felt like she'd been punched in the belly. It couldn't be true, could it? Unbidden, images of Susannah fighting her father came to her mind. The feral, savage way she tore into him, even once he'd subdued her.

"I'm sorry I had to disillusion you, Miss Jacobs," the man said, finally approaching her. "Susannah Dixon's only consideration is Susannah Dixon, alas." He pulled a key out of his pocket. "Here, as a sign of our goodwill, I'll let you out of those restraints and take you to a guest room we've prepared for you. This," he gestured at the spartan chamber Bekkah woke up in, "was for your protection while the sedatives wore off."

Rebekkah remained silent as the researcher unlocked the manacles, then, once she sat up, the handcuffs. She stared at him until he backed off and turned away. "Yes, well, if you'll follow me, I'll take you to your room."

---

"Matthew McDonald," a gruff voice said into Samson's ear. "I don't recognize this number. You have three seconds to convince me not to hang up and block you."

"Matty, it's Sam on a burner phone."

"Give me ten minutes and call back." The phone call ended with a click.

"Paranoid as ever," Samson grumbled to himself. In any other circumstance, he might hit the redial button. Right now, he was willing to play ball on the off chance OTS or some other agency was actually monitoring his old not-quite-friend's line.

Ten minutes to the second later, he called again. Matt picked up before the first ring. "Sam. It must be important if you're calling me. Lay it out."

"I'm calling in the favor you owe me. The big one."

"I figured as much. What's the story? Keep it short."

Samson drew in a shaky breath. "Ever heard of a government black agency called OTS? Office of Therianthropy Studies?" He didn't wait for Matty to answer. "They kidnapped my daughter and her friend."

The line was silent for a full five seconds. "Shee-it, Sam." Another short pause, then, "What do you need from me?"

"Info, of course. If anyone can dig up the U-S-of-A's dirty laundry, it's 'Mad' Matty McDonald. And if I can persuade you to lend material assistance, I'd owe you a big one."

There was another period of silence. "If this were just you, Sam, I'd tell you to fuck off. For little Bekkah, though? Alright, you bastard, I'm in. What do you know? The more you can tell me, the better and faster I'll be able to work."

"Not much. Bekkah's friend is Susannah, last name unknown. Were-Florida panther. She says OTS is keeping her whole family and using them in some kind of breeding experiments. Their facility is somewhere in south Florida, from what I've pieced together. My guess is the Everglades, but I don't know for sure."

A low whistle answered him. "I didn't know there were any Florida panthers left alive in the wild, let alone therianthropic ones. I guess it's still true." Sam grimaced at the black humor. "Alright, Sam, I'll see what I can do. Make your way here—drive, no flights, and don't use any debit or credit cards on the way. Be careful crossing the border. And leave your regular phone at home, they can track it."

Sam nodded even though Matty couldn't see him. "Alright, I'll be there in three days." The line went dead again. Samson looked up at the pale crescent moon. "I'm comin', angel, and Hell's comin' with me."

---

Susannah stared at the wall of her cell. Ever since she woke up back in Otis's custody, Sunny disappeared. He was gone from her mind as if he never existed. Anna knew she was still a werepanther because she was stuck in hybrid form, even though she felt weak as a kitten, but the absence of her life-long partner left her adrift. For the first time, she was entirely alone.

It might have something to do with the collar around her neck or the device strapped to her shaved head. She could do nothing about either, so it didn't matter. Everything she touched turned to ash. Returning to captivity was far worse now she'd tasted freedom. She'd even gotten Bekkah involved. Impotent tears of frustration, sorrow, and longing trickled down her cheeks.

A clatter at the door signaled the arrival of her next meal, the fourth since she woke up. How many times a day were they feeding her? Again, it didn't matter. Otis had already demonstrated it was useless to resist them. Woodenly, she got up, retrieved the tray, then brought it back to the bed. It was the only place to sit aside from the filthy floor.

Macaroni and cheese. Mashed potatoes. A small steak. If only the rest of her captivity was as nice as the meals. Anna knew they were probably laced with chemicals, but, like everything else, it didn't matter. She wouldn't be allowed to starve herself, and if they wanted to dose her with something, she couldn't stop them. She couldn't shift with the collar around her neck—it would have threads of gold woven into it, meaning she'd cut her throat open trying.

An inner voice urged her to go ahead. To end it. If Anna had any confidence a suicide attempt would succeed, she might even be tempted. But no. Otis would never give her an easy way out.

Instead, she went through the motions of living. Anna ate her meal without tasting any of the flavors, then slid the tray back through the flap in the door. There wasn't anything else to do, so she curled up on the bed and closed her eyes. The more she slept, the less she suffered.

Unfortunately, sleep wouldn't come. Every time Anna closed her eyes, she saw everything again. Bekkah's body collapsed in the hallway like a puppet with its strings cut. The OTS goon aiming a tranquilizer rifle at her best—only—friend. The remains of the same goon after Sunny took charge. The other two white-shirted men with even stronger tranquilizers who shot Sunny from behind.

Then, her memories drifted back further. Bekkah kneeling in front of Mister Samson, his cock disappearing between her lips. The musky, salty taste of Mister Samson's manhood as she took over from his daughter. Bekkah's tongue in her mouth, on her neck, her breasts. A few minutes later, water cascading down Bekkah's nude, voluptuous form in the shower.

I wish I'd taken the chance, Anna thought to herself. I could've touched her there in the shower, and she wouldn't have turned me away. Neither of us got off. She would've welcomed my hands on her breasts, her thighs...

Anna's hands drifted down between her legs. She moaned into the thin, flat pillow as she started stroking Sunny's... her cock. Her skin felt like it was glowing, she was so hot. She needed release and damn whatever cameras Otis had in her room.

"Bekkah," a whimper passed Anna's lips. In her mind, she was back in the shower, embracing her crush from behind. Bekkah's head lolled back against Anna's shoulder as she 'washed' her friend's breasts.

"Oh, Anna, your hands feel so good on me," she'd moan. Her body would press back against Anna, wiggling until they were flush against each other. "Oh! Is that for me?" Somehow Anna was in her hybrid form, her slender, dull-barbed cock rubbing between Bekkah's rounded buttocks.

"Do you want it to be?" Anna's left hand drifted down across Bekkah's slightly-rounded belly, then between her thighs. Bekkah's breath caught, then her legs slid shoulder-width apart. "You're so beautiful, so sexy." Anna's fingers found heat and warmth having nothing to do with the shower. "I want you, Bekkah. Do you want me?"

"Oh, oh, oh," Bekkah panted as Anna's fingers explored her pussy. "Oh, yes, Anna." She swayed forward against Anna's hand, then Bekkah's fingers wrapped around Anna's hardness, pushing it down and nestling the tip between her nether lips. Anna withdrew her fingers and slid forward into heaven.

"Fuck, Bekkah," Anna hissed, her hand pumping up and down her length.

"Oh, Anna, fuck me, fuck me, please," Bekkah begged in her mind. Her ass pushed back into Anna's thighs. "I need it, Anna. I need your cock. I need your cum deep inside me."

Fire spread through Anna's veins. She arched up off the bed, fucking her hand.

"I'm gonna cum," Bekkah whimpered. "You're making me cum on your cock, Anna. All over you. For you. Cumming for you!" In the daydream, Anna nuzzled her crush's neck and then opened her jaws, exposing her sharp teeth. "Do it," dream-Bekkah urged. "Bite me, cum in me, make me yours!"

Anna felt her climax approaching. She balanced on the cliff's edge, gritting her teeth as her pleasure rose, rose, the fires consuming her in volcanic passion—

The metal collar around her neck activated, sending electric shocks throughout her body. A scream tore from her throat as she convulsed in pain, her orgasm torn from her grasp. A moment later, the door to her room slid open to admit an armed guard. "Get up," he told Anna. "You have an appointment."

Anna shuddered as the flow of electricity stopped. For a brief moment, she entertained the idea of charging the goon, but his gun was pointed toward her, no doubt loaded with gold. Without Sunny's help, she didn't think she could take him. The fire still burned in her veins, and a second thought crossed Anna's mind. If she bent over the bed and spread her legs, maybe he'd fuck her.

"Up and at 'em," he ordered again.

Anna shook off the stray thought. She'd never offer herself to Otis. She couldn't stop them from taking what they wanted from her, but she refused to be a willing participant. With a snarl, Anna stood, glaring at the guard, defying him even as his eyes drifted over her bare breasts, hard nipples, harder cock, and the wetness staining her short-furred thighs.

The guard stepped to the side and waved to the door with his free hand, keeping the high-caliber pistol pointed toward Anna. With her head held high and her arousal as intense as it'd ever been, she stepped through the door.

---

"Shit, wolf, you really stuck your nose in the hornet's nest this time. And they're those fucking Japanese murder hornets," Matty said. The big black man gestured at the blueprints on his laptop. "This place is as big as a mid-sized college campus, and that's just above ground. They've got around two hundred armed guards on the payroll, so we're looking at fifty to a hundred on duty at any given time. Worse, they're housed on-site, so the rest can come charging in any damned second."

"There can't be much underground," Sam argued. "It's in the Everglades. Digging down into a swamp isn't economical."

Matty gave him a rude snort. "When has Uncle Sam ever been concerned with how much shit costs? Not since before FDR, and even that's debatable," Matty answered his own question. "Look, here and here," he said, tapping the screen. "Elevators with nowhere to go but down. No, sir, this is a whole complex, and we're not going to be storming this castle with just the two of us."

Sam grunted his acknowledgment. "Noted. I'll call Harris if you can get ahold of Lou."

"Better get Dozer and Queen, too," Matty added.

"Dozer?" Sam sat up and looked at his co-conspirator. "You're serious about this."

White teeth gleamed in the under-lit room. "They fuck with you, whatever. They fuck with lil' Becky, though? God have mercy on their souls, 'cause we sure won't."