"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."
