Call of the Lycan (Secrets of the Sequoia Book 3)

by Deidre Huesmann

  A loud thump followed by a groan drifted in from Nathan’s room. Aaron stifled a sigh and tried to reread the last paragraph. It sounded as though Rachael’s first training session was successfully roughing her up.

  Ultimately that was good; it would teach her what her weaknesses were. With that information, Nathan could better instruct her how to practice and improve for next time.

  And still Aaron had to restrain himself from running into that room. It wasn’t his business, he reminded himself firmly. Not yet.

  He was so preoccupied berating himself that Aaron almost missed the distant sound of leaves rustling. His head snapped up and he closed his book. He listened again, waiting for that moment of perfect silence.

  There. Another rustle. That wasn’t a deer, bird, or rabbit. The footfall was too heavy for any of them.

  You are getting sloppy in our absence, Ambassador, he thought cynically. Aaron rose and quietly slipped down the hallway so as not to disturb the others. Even Jackson didn’t look up from his game, and his door was wide open.

  Aaron slunk out the back door and closed it softly. He kept his bare feet from making a sound as he crept from the porch to the grass. With perked ears he listened.

  And waited.

  And then waited longer.

  Nobody could match him for patience. Nearly half an hour went by before he heard another suspicious movement. This one sounded deep into the forest, well outside the skirts of his home. Aaron could just about pinpoint the location, perpendicular to the ever-revisited sequoia tree.

  He took off.

  Running through the forest as a human was very different than as a lycan. Aaron’s legs weren’t as powerful and his strides not as long. But the wind striking his face was the same. Though his sense of smell wasn’t as strong his hearing had always been sharp, even for a human. So he located the intruder quickly.

  That in itself was concerning. It meant they wanted to be found.

  Aaron came to a stop in a small clearing and took a few moments to catch his breath. Just a few yards away stood Holden, also a human, and also out of breath.

  His former charge looked very different than last Aaron had laid eyes on him. His hair was cropped short, almost military-style. Holden was still the tall, lean young man as before, but in a few short months he had traded his impertinent expression for coldness. His eyes were stormier than ever, with blue, green, and gold battling for dominance in his irises. To no surprise he wore clothes that indicated he had not been here in wolf form. Old jeans, an unassuming grey T-shirt, and a long black coat comprised his outfit.

  Aaron couldn’t help himself. He smiled wickedly.

  “I cannot say it is good to see you,” he said.

  “Yeah. Same.”

  Holden’s voice came out curt and hard as diamond. Much of the keening protest was gone. In its own way that was very refreshing.

  “I am aware of your plan to murder one of my pack,” replied Aaron. Slowly he stepped closer, and he saw Holden’s shoulders tense. “You do realize I will not allow that to happen.”

  The young man cocked his head and, amazingly, flashed a tight smile of his own. “Actually, I’ve been rethinking that strategy.”

  Despite himself, Aaron was intrigued. “Do tell.”

  Holden folded his arms so that his hands were beneath his jacket, almost hugging himself. “I really don’t want to hurt kids. It’s not Ana Sofia’s fault. Hell, it’s not even Jackson’s or Nathan’s. It’s really... just... yours.” He finished soft and slow, with pressure to the final syllables.

  “Precisely,” said Aaron. “You ought to take your issues up with me.”

  With a firm raise of his chin, Holden replied, “I intend to. I realize it’s not fair to any of them. The only real answer...” He paused. “Is to become their alpha.”

  Heat bubbled within Aaron and found its release in a long, disdainful laugh. From the cross look Holden gave him, he knew his former charge had expected to be taken seriously.

  “That is quite the fantasy,” chortled Aaron. He sighed out the last of his laughter before turning a more serious gaze to the young man standing rigidly before him. “And that is all it is: a fantasy. You would have to kill me.”

  Holden didn’t even blink. “I know.”

  A dark voice within warned him to stop, but Aaron brushed it off. He flashed Holden a patronizing smile. “All right, then. Why not here? I have no problem giving you a fair fight, considering our history.”

  Slowly Holden relaxed his arms. There was a dark glimpse of metal, and then he took quick aim with his right hand. The short, lonely barrel of a gun stared Aaron in the eye. Even in his surprised state, Aaron could see what he was up against. An innocuous-looking Remington 1911, its wood-grip base outdated in style, but its precision and reliability lauded throughout the years.

  “Considering our history,” Holden said through his teeth, “I have no interest in fair.”

  The gun kicked back when he shot and Aaron’s chest exploded with pain.

  Rachael didn’t know how she got there first. She wasn’t the fastest, her nose was inferior, and she didn’t even know whether the gunshot had come from the north or east. But she knew what she might find, and her stomach lurched at the thought.

  She didn’t run long, but her mind sped furiously. What would happen if Jackson, Nathan, and Ana Sofia had to fend for themselves? Just how vulnerable were they without their alpha?

  This single instance already spoke dreadful things. Ana Sofia had begun screaming, Nathan went into a blind panic, and Jackson had had trouble trying to calm either of them. It had taken all his strength to wrestle the boy to the ground, which only made Ana Sofia shriek harder. Rachael had watched it all, dazed, vaguely understanding Aaron was not there.

  And there was only one place he could be.

  She’d begun to leave when she heard her brother yell, “RayRay, no!”

  Almost in a dreamlike haze, she’d turned to him and said quietly, “If it’s Holden, he won’t hurt me. Don’t worry.”

  And then she’d run.

  Rachael plunged through the woods, tripping over roots and sliding through mud. She fell more than once, but each time she picked herself back up and kept running. If she stumbled into Holden out here she was utterly powerless; no means of defense...

  But Aaron was very possibly dying, if not already dead.

  “Aaron,” she shouted.

  Nothing.

  “Aaron!” Rachael slipped and fell on her back. Momentarily stunned, she gasped for breath and picked herself up. But instead of running she turned in circles, straining her weak human ears for any unusual sounds.

  “Aaron, I swear if you don’t answer me—!”

  A warm, strong hand clamped over her mouth. Rachael jerked violently in the grip and her assailant let go. She whirled to face him and her throat closed.

  Holden’s mouth lined with disappointment, but his eyes were murderous. “Why do you bother?” he demanded. He took a step toward her and Rachael scrambled several steps back. “What did he say that made you trust him after all that? You do remember his methods for raising lycans are why your mother is dead, right?”

  Memories of her sweet, ailing mother flooded to the forefront. Rachael blinked furiously to fight off tears. No, she told herself, though she couldn’t help seeing her mom’s smile. This wasn’t the time.

  Rachael gritted her teeth and drew what little she could from a small spigot of courage. “Holden, for the last time, go—away.”

  “No. Ray, this is ridiculous.” He grabbed her by the upper arm, squeezing tight enough to make her wince. “I get he’s charming and all, but being around him is toxic. It will ruin your life.” When she tried to pull away he yanked her closer. The gold in his eyes practically glowed with fury. “Please, for all that I love you, even if you don’t love me after what I did, please don’t get yourself killed. Because being around him, that’s what it does to you. Inside and out. You just rot away knowing you’re a monste
r and nobody can ever truly understand you. Not a human, not a lycan. Nobody.”

  Though every nerve in her body screamed fear of him, Rachael couldn’t keep from feeling a sharp sting of pity. Yes, Holden was monstrous in his actions from the moment he’d killed Vera. And yes, he was beginning to show his sense of boundaries were skewed and, at best, fluid to his personal feelings.

  But still, how awful to spend over a century with the ones he was supposed to call family and still feel so devastatingly alone.

  “Holden,” she started, her voice quivering. “You need to let me go. And you need to let me see what you did to him.”

  His nostrils flared and for a moment she thought he’d actually snap and hit her. The memory of how he’d struck Coleen—though ever so lightly—rushed back.

  But then Holden released her and glanced over his shoulder. His chin jutted in determination.

  “He’s not dead—yet,” he said bitterly. “I missed his heart. And I need more practice, because after this he’s not going to stop until I’m torn to shreds. If he doesn’t die of blood loss that is.”

  Rachael edged away from him. Back toward the house voices began shouting outside. Soon the pack would find them.

  Holden must have realized it as well, because he simply said, “Don’t just brush me off, Ray. You know me and you know my past. I may have hid a lot, but I never really lied to you.”

  He must have wanted to say more from the way his breath hitched, but the voices were coming close and fast.

  Holden shoved something warm and metallic in her hands. At her stunned expression, he said, “Can’t use it again now that he knows I have it.” And then he quickly pecked her cheek, murmuring in her ear, “Be safe.”

  Then he took off and disappeared into the woods.

  Rachael immediately dropped the gun and tried to remember which direction she was running. Before she had only met with silence; now she had the pack closing in on one side and utter quiescence on all others.

  Suddenly an agonized shout emitted from the north. Rachael hurried toward the sound and finally found Aaron.

  He was lying on his back, both hands pressing down hard on his chest just above his heart. Blood trickled between his fingers, staining his shirt dribbling to the poor forest floor beneath him. So much life had ended here, thought Rachael distantly.

  But she forced herself to focus and knelt beside him. His face was white and heavy with sweat, his breath short and labored. “Oh my god,” she said weakly.

  Aaron’s coal black eyes wrestled open, his brow drawn down in immense pain. “Rachael,” he said in a gravelly voice that somehow still struck a chord of primal fear. “Pressure. Stop the bleeding.”

  For a brief moment she panicked. How was she supposed to get his shirt off without hurting him? But then he grabbed her hand, placed it over his wound, and forced her to press down hard. Rachael let out a rough breath and put her weight into it. Aaron groaned and his head fell back. In her periphery she watched his body fight a convulsion. She stared at his face to keep her panic from cutting deeper.

  “What do I do?” she asked frantically.

  He snarled through his teeth, though she suspected more from pain than anger. “Do not let me bleed out,” he snapped.

  Rachael nodded and leaned on her hands a little more. A low, terrible sound escaped his throat and he slammed his head against the ground.

  It felt like forever, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute before Jackson arrived. After one look at his alpha he swore and scrambled to him. Immediately he removed his own shirt before shoving Rachael’s hands aside. He opened Aaron’s shirt to reveal the gruesome bullet hole that continued to dribble freely. Rachael’s hands nearly flew to her mouth before she realized what was still on them.

  “RayRay, help me,” said Jackson.

  She nodded and hurried to follow his clipped instructions. There was no exit wound so the blood could only escape one way, thank the heavens. But that meant the bullet was lodged somewhere in his chest.

  “Boss, we gotta get you to the hospital,” urged Jackson.

  Aaron hissed through his teeth as his charge wrapped a makeshift bandage and padding around his chest to cover the injury. “No,” he said. “Not an option.”

  “But—”

  “I have survived worse wounds with no official medical care,” Aaron cut in. “Besides, we do not have a good cover story.”

  “Hunters,” Jackson immediately suggested.

  “Close range shot,” replied Aaron. He tried to sigh but it appeared to hurt. “Not believable.” An awful, rattling cough erupted from his throat.

  Rachael held her hands in midair. With the blood covering them she wasn’t certain what to do with them. She stared at Aaron in panic, but he didn’t cough again.

  Desperate for a solution, she said, “Tell the police you didn’t see who it was. It was too dark.”

  Aaron grimaced in distaste.

  Jackson shook his head. “If anybody heard the gun go off, that’ll unravel super fast. But if no bodies show up they’ll just assume hunters or dumb kids.”

  “Well, we can’t let him die just because he’s stubborn,” said Rachael in frustration.

  “I know, but... look, what about an accident?”

  “In the chest? Even if anyone else bought it, Aaron wouldn’t even pretend to admit to being that careless.”

  Below them, Aaron muttered, “Aaron is still quite conscious and can speak for himself, thank you.”

  Jackson snorted and smiled. Then to Rachael’s horror he said, “Okay. We’ll get you home.”

  “What? No!” Rachael furiously rubbed her hands on the dirt and grass to rid herself of the blood. “He needs medical care. A hospital! Not home surgery!”

  Aaron closed his eyes. “Please do not make me refer to myself in the third person again.”

  His voice grew notably weaker. Rachael bit her lip and looked to her brother pleadingly.

  But if she was looking for Jackson to side with her, Rachael was immediately disappointed. Her brother shook his head and began to lift Aaron from the ground. His alpha’s mumbles of agony punctuated the disturbing quiet of a typically active forest.

  “Sorry, RayRay,” said Jackson. His eyes shone with a mixture of regret and determination. “But if he thinks he can make it, so do I.”

  Rachael felt utterly helpless as the two slogged back toward the house. She remained kneeling on the ground in shock. Unbelievable, she thought in dismay. That Aaron refused professional medical care wasn’t exactly a surprise. But the prospect of him dying because of his petulant cockiness freaked her out.

  Slowly it sank in that she was not safe. Holden could still be lurking around, waiting to grab her and pull her away from the pack and her brother forever. Rachael made herself stand and wiped her hands on her pants. She tried not to look at the blood sinking into the dirt then headed back to the house.

  The entire way there she swore she could feel a stormy set of eyes following her every step of the way.

  Chapter Nine

  Holden had meant to empty the entire clip into Aaron, but the gun had jammed. He’d stared at the weapon in disbelief, then in anger.

  While he had tried to figure out what had happened, Aaron said in a mocking wheeze, “I look forward to the pack ripping you to pieces.” He’d tried to sit up but, with it being Aaron and Aaron hadn’t been actually shot in many decades, he’d gasped in pain and fallen back, clutching the profusely bleeding wound.

  The pack would be there any second, Holden had realized. But he had to finish the job. This shot looked close to the heart, but not close enough. Aaron would only bleed out if Holden was very, very lucky. So he’d taken a stance, ready to pistol-whip Aaron to death if he had to. But what the man said had made him freeze, and his eyes were like black ice.

  “No wonder Rachael is so afraid of you.”

  It was a dirty trick, but effective. Holden had experienced a long enough throb of doubt that he could hear the wo
ods stir. Somebody was going to find them soon.

  So with a curse he’d taken off.

  Holden still couldn’t believe he’d missed. The opportunity had been absolutely perfect: his former alpha came at him alone, cocky and overconfident, and Holden had been able to get the jump on him. The stunned darkness in Aaron’s eyes had been a thrill in the moment.

  How amazing it had felt to have the advantage for once. Never, ever would he get that chance again. Now that Aaron knew he was willing to play dirty, Holden’s days were numbered.

  At first he’d been hopeful. Despite Aaron’s bravado, his wound had been bleeding well enough that there was a half-decent chance he could die there. Holden couldn’t help the gun failing, and he cursed himself for running instead of finishing the job. All he could do at the time was grimly pray nobody found him in time.

  But then he’d heard Rachael and he knew if he didn’t delay her Aaron might live. It never hurt to see her anyway, especially outside of her house. Holden didn’t want her to get the impression he was following her everywhere, after all.

  It hurt that she’d called Aaron’s name with such panic. And it had been so incredibly difficult not to scream at her or even just kidnap her right then and there. Every time he saw her express anything more than neutral dismissiveness toward Aaron, Holden felt his blood heat past boiling. He was trying as hard as he could not to force her into a situation for her own good. It had to be organic; she had to see it for herself, to come to those terms on her own.

  Yet she was so maddeningly slow with her epiphany. If anything she seemed more afraid of Holden and less of Aaron. Even though he’d killed her best friend, Holden still couldn’t understand.

  Kissing her cheek had probably been a bad move, and he chided himself for it. Showing affection during a heightened state of fear could subconsciously condition her into being afraid of him for no reason.

  Holden kept running as fast as he could through Douglas Park. He couldn’t hear anyone following him but that didn’t mean they weren’t snapping at his heels. He couldn’t afford to stop until he was out of town this time. On the off chance Aaron didn’t bleed out, the pack was going to be furious.