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

by Deidre Huesmann

  “You look better,” she said.

  Aaron shrugged his right shoulder; the uninjured one. “Lycans heal quickly.”

  She shook her head. “Not that quickly. Maybe you should be resting.”

  He stared pointedly at her from under uncharacteristically messy black bangs. “I have rested quite enough. If you wish to play nurse, might I suggest a degree at the local community college?”

  His snide comment sparked her ire. Rachael didn’t think before she acted, and in hindsight she would guess that she only took him by surprise because her temperament was normally rather mild.

  She turned and slapped an open palm against his injured shoulder.

  Aaron hissed and jerked away. His bare feet practically flew over the kitchen tile. The look he gave her was dark and awash with loathing. Fear seized her momentarily, but Rachael kept his fixed stare and clenched her teeth in an attempt to look a little more imposing.

  “Doesn’t look like you’ve rested enough,” she said. “That actually looks like it hurts.”

  Surprisingly, he responded by flashing a sharp grin. One stride was all it took to close the distance between them. For a moment Rachael completely forgot about their audience. She stared up at Aaron, her heart pulsing in her ears. His eyes were blacker than onyx yet filled with more life than she could have imagined a creature his age was still capable of.

  Softly, Aaron said, “Well done, Rachael. That was a clever strike.” Warmth tickled her skin, indicating how close he was. He nimbly plucked the butter knife from her other hand, never breaking their locked gaze. “If you do it again I will not be so kind as to let it slide.”

  She fought the shivers that threatened to shoot up her spine. “Good,” she replied. “I could use the training.”

  Aaron scrutinized her momentarily before he pulled back. “I will make lunch. If I stay in that room another minute, I may very well light the entire house on fire just to have something exciting to watch.”

  With a mixture of relief and reluctance, Rachael nodded and moved aside. She poured the kids some milk and handed it to them. Nathan gave her the strangest look.

  Rachael blinked uneasily. “What?”

  The boy looked from his brother to her, a sly smile stretching his lips. “Nothin’, Miss Rachael.”

  Ana Sofia’s expression told them they were all crazy. She calmly took a sip of her drink.

  Unnerved by Nathan’s grin, Rachael excused herself to the bathroom. She needed a moment to gather her composure.

  What an intense morning.

  Though Aaron left them alone after that, Rachael struggled with the reminder of him in the periphery of her thoughts. During a crucial moment in her training she hesitated, as she could have sworn she caught his scent of lingering cloves. It cost her and Nathan was able to easily pin her to the floor of his bedroom.

  Rachael groaned as her sore head throbbed. She sat up and Nathan backed off. Sheepishly rubbing her head, she said, “Sorry. I spaced out.”

  “You can’t. You gotta focus.” But he granted that strange smile again. It was enough to embarrass her and bring her attention back to the training.

  The next time he came at her she spun and ran into the bed, effectively avoiding his attempted grab. In the corner of her eye she saw Ana Sofia sneak up, and she catapulted away from the bed. It got her away from the little girl, but Nathan grabbed her by the shirt and yanked her back so that she fell on top of him. With her unsettling speed, Ana Sofia caught her by the wrists and pulled them above her head, pinning them to the mattress.

  Beneath her, Nathan laughed. “Sorry, Miss Rachael. You lose.”

  Ana Sofia released her and Rachael clambered off him, sitting on the edge of the bed with a frustrated grunt.

  “I know I’m going to be slow compared to lycans, but is this really going to help?” she inquired.

  Beside her, Ana Sofia shrugged. Nathan answered, “Two is always harder’n one. And I’m hopin’ if you ever get caught you’ll have a weapon.”

  “So why not train with that?”

  “Cuz you can’t rely on it,” said Nathan sagely. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doin’. And we’re gonna help the best we can.”

  Ana Sofia nodded exuberantly. “Love Rachael.”

  Her heart melted at the girl’s words. Though her body ached and she would go home with dozens of bruises, Rachael couldn’t help but tousle Ana Sofia’s hair. The girl huffed and withdrew, but her eyes were anything but annoyed.

  “Okay,” she relented, getting to her feet again. “Let’s go again.”

  The words were hardly out of her mouth before Ana Sofia lunged for her.

  Holden may be teetering on the edge of sanity, but Aaron knew he was on the brink of something just as precarious. He waited until he was alone to pull off his shirt and remove the bandages wrapped around his shoulder. In the mirror he inspected his wound. It leaked crimson, definitely due to Rachael smacking him.

  He should have been enraged. That small action could have set him back if he were he a normal human. As a lycan it would take an extra few hours for his body to repair the added damage.

  Instead of anger he felt the stirrings of something much more treacherous. He’d always held a particular fondness for Ms. Adair; no doubt about it. It was so rare to see inner steel so heavily coated in the comforting warmth of empathy. Normally he would have to chip away at the outer hard shell to get to a person’s kindness, but in Rachael’s case she remained relatively open and had to be pushed into hating someone.

  So it was a bad sign that, when she’d held her ground after striking him, Aaron had felt the kindling of something more than mere endearment. Bit by bit her strength was coming to the forefront. She was becoming braver, more critical in her thinking, and sharper in her reactions.

  Aaron was dangerously close to loving her.

  He gritted his teeth and set to cleaning his wound. Jackson had stitched him shut, though not before rooting around in his chest and removing the bullet. It was why Aaron had refused to allow anyone to leave or enter the house. Four days had passed before he felt well enough to fight if he had to, so it took four days before he was willing to welcome anybody into their tiny fortress.

  Four days until he’d permitted Rachael’s return. Within three hours she had plucked a chord he’d never wanted touched.

  Grimly he wrapped himself up again. When he went to put his T-shirt back on he noted a small bloodstain, so he instead opted for a new one. Annoying that she’d ruined his shirt (though a bit of cleaning would get the blood out) and he yet still wasn’t mad at her.

  Fantastic job, he thought cynically. You get yourself shot, fail the pack, fail as an alpha, and somehow still manage to find time to entertain selfish, impossible concepts.

  Because that was what falling for her—or anyone, really—was. Selfish, impossible... and stupid. In order to remain objective, alphas didn’t fraternize. They didn’t forge romantic connections either in the pack or out. Since so few were born a lycan, passing on the strongest genes wasn’t a concern. Instead it was an alpha’s priority to raise his pack to be strong and, eventually, hand off those responsibilities to the best. This was either the alpha’s choice or stolen by another lycan killing the alpha in a duel.

  And it was why Holden’s idea of murdering him and taking over the pack was not only disgustingly idiotic but also downright horrifying.

  Aaron couldn’t claim to be the best alpha, but he did care about his pack. He did his best to learn from his mistakes even if some of them, like his failure with Beatrice, took decades to realize. And most of all, he cared for each wolf that joined their ranks.

  Holden might consider himself human and compassionate, but he didn’t give a damn about Nathan. Ana Sofia he might grow to love, and if Rachael were to stick around Aaron had no doubt Jackson could grow to be loyal—if he didn’t abandon that wreck of a group first.

  He also knew Holden would kill Nathan over the first assumed slight.

  While
Holden’s words were pretty enough, Aaron knew better. Too long had his former charge held a deep resentment toward Nathan. There was little to no chance of those wounds healing if Holden became the pack alpha.

  Aaron finally stepped out of the bedroom after a significant struggle to put on a shirt. He could raise his arm parallel to the ground but no higher. Shrugging without agony was laughable. A button-up would have slid on easier, but then there was the time it took to fasten everything while the wound stabbed him over and over.

  Adamant to put that moment with Rachael out of his mind, Aaron settled in the living room to watch the news. As you can see, Ms. Adair, I am resting. He smirked to himself.

  But now that he had tasted a moment of true connection, his base desire seemed intent on overtaking his memories. Like how she’d smelled of grass and sweat after the tussle outside, and how when he’d stepped closer electricity crackled in the air between them. How the rage of her hitting him mingled with excitement at her aggressiveness. It was as though she was becoming a lycan in everything but body.

  He hardly noticed the same stories had cycled over the television three times when Rachael entered the living room. She was dirty and clearly exhausted, but pride shone in her eyes.

  She looked him over briefly and smiled. “So you did rest.”

  Aaron scoffed. “I had nothing important to do today.”

  “Uh huh.” She sat on the opposite end of the couch. Aaron only watched her from the corner of his eye, and he couldn’t help noticing she was already regaining strength in her legs. After Vera’s death she had hardly left school, her home, or his house to go hiking like she used to. The muscles in her legs had vanished bit by bit, but lately they seemed to be making their reappearance.

  And then he realized he was admiring her legs. Aaron bit down on a curse and tried not to berate her for wearing shorts. It wasn’t her fault he was a fool.

  “I’m sorry I hit you,” murmured Rachael. Her cheeks tinted with color. “I didn’t even think about how bad that had to hurt.”

  Aaron shook his head, never tearing his eyes away from the screen across the room. “Never apologize for taking advantage of a situation,” he replied. “I do not even blame Holden for that. It is tactically intelligent.”

  Apparently comparing her to her first love was not a pleasant experience, because Rachael winced. “Maybe, but it’s not me to do that to someone I care about.”

  Aaron’s breath caught for a fraction of a second. He finally looked her way, curving his mouth in a lazy smile. “I am flattered.”

  “I bet,” she said dryly. But then her expression changed, and her voice softened. “Can... can I see it?”

  Aaron responded by extending his arm toward her with his elbow bent. His fingers pointed toward the ceiling. At her puzzled expression, he said, “It is painful to lift my arm any higher.”

  “Oh. Oh, god, I’m sorry,” she blurted. Then she grabbed the hem of his shirt and began to carefully extract his arm from the sleeve. She didn’t remove the shirt entirely and Aaron didn’t ask her to. Once the bandage was visible she searched for the end before slowly, cautiously unwinding it from his shoulder and torso. When she reached the point she could lift the gauze Rachael appeared to hesitate.

  So Aaron removed it for her.

  Rachael sucked in a sharp breath and quickly closed her eyes. Then after a few strong heartbeats she opened them and looked.

  It wasn’t a pleasant sight. The flesh where the bullet had entered had started to take on a blackened and scabbed appearance. Angry red scar tissue sunk the skin inward. There were also raised lines where Jackson had been forced to cut him open a bit wider to extract the metal from his chest. Traces of dried blood could be seen around the injury.

  Rachael looked like she wanted to be sick. Instead, or perhaps in spite of it, she took the time to cover everything back up and rewrap him. “Shouldn’t you wear, like, a sling or something?”

  “I did,” said Aaron casually as he pushed his arm back through his sleeve. “For three days.”

  “Stubborn.” But her joking voice was weak, and almost immediately after she blurted, “Aaron, I’m so, so sorry. I should have been able to do something.”

  He shook his head, leaning slightly away from her. “None of this is your doing. I am certain this is years of Holden’s rage coming forth. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

  “Yeah, but I—” She stopped short, her mouth settling into an uneasy frown. “I’m still sorry,” she said.

  Somehow he didn’t think that was what she wanted to say, but Aaron began to grow weary. Healing was exhausting. “I refuse to accept your apology,” he said, glancing back to the television. “But please do continue to come by whenever you like, Ms. Adair.”

  Too late he noticed his words came out with more cutting than he’d meant.

  She didn’t seem to notice. “You’ve gotten a lot better at calling me Rachael,” she said quietly. “Don’t insult me by using my last name like we’re still strangers.”

  No. He had to use her last name. It kept that distance, reminded him that there was nothing inappropriate going on.

  And yet he said, “My apologies, Rachael,” and granted her a smug sideways look.

  She smiled and stood. “Jackie’s gonna take me home. He said he’ll be here soon.”

  Aaron nodded. “Good night.”

  “See you tomorrow.” She waved and headed for the front door, allowing the slab of oak to swing shut behind her.

  Well, thought Aaron with little amusement, he had certainly just dug his grave a few feet deeper. He needed to stop before he reached below sea level.

  Because if he went too far, there would be no going back.

  Chapter Eleven

  Covering Coleen up as a drunken college student had been his most brilliant part of his plan. It was everything else that seemed to go awry.

  Holden paced the hallway just outside his apartment. It was more of a balcony really, where the setting sun scattered the last of its feeble warmth over the city before vanishing for the night. Inside was quiet—for now.

  But she wasn’t doing well, even for an infected person. Holden crackled his knuckles in vexation. The fever was to be expected, as were the night terrors and continuous vomiting. Every one of the infected had gone through it. But the ones who didn’t make it were the ones who couldn’t eat or stand even the smell of water. Water, for heaven’s sake. The last sign would be the expelling of blood, which she thankfully hadn’t begun yet.

  Coleen’s current symptoms didn’t necessarily doom her. A few had gone through the worst and come out alive. Roxi had been a prime example, actually. The duration of her infection had spanned several months. Roxi had also bled from her ears throughout most of her nightmarish experience. Holden prayed to whoever would listen that Coleen’s will be just as strong.

  He needed her to survive. Not just because he didn’t want more blood on his hands but because Holden needed a new strategy against Aaron. Becoming a lycan didn’t have to send Coleen straight to hell on earth, not if she followed his example.

  Most importantly, once he had a strong pack of his own, taking on Aaron didn’t have to become a suicide mission.

  Relying on a gun had been a mistake. He saw that now. If he wanted Aaron dead, he had to do it as a lycan. But to fight him as a lycan Holden would have to embrace that side of him and accept that he was at least part monster.

  What better way to do that than become an alpha? He committed no crime this way. He wouldn’t oust Aaron as an expelled nobody; he wouldn’t be seen as a pathetic beta. Perhaps most importantly, he’d be seen as strong and reliable.

  So while Coleen wasn’t his first choice, Holden needed her to get through this.

  He gripped the side railing and peered over his fifth floor balcony. A couple walked through the front gate holding hands. They giggled as they took their loving time meandering toward a bottom-floor apartment.

  A small sting of jealousy pierced his h
eart. Had Aaron never returned to Keeton, that couple could have been him and Rachael next year. Starting college, getting jobs, living together in a cozy small apartment and watching stupid movies while she ate and praised a fresh batch of cookies he’d just made.

  Holden missed her so much it very well could be killing him.

  He hung his head, rubbing his palms over the cold iron railing. That would never be possible with a pack, he knew. Once he took on an alpha role he would become responsible for whatever lives he chose to take under his wing.

  And while he knew she didn’t love him anymore Holden was positive that like the others, given time, she would eventually come around. He’d never turn her against her will. Unlike with Coleen, he simply couldn’t do that to her.

  Holden had a lot of apologies to make for his promise to kill her, and a lot of groveling to do until she accepted his remorse. But if she really was intent on becoming a lycan he might help her out.

  He just couldn’t let Aaron be the one to do it.

  Loud, awful retching jolted him from his thoughts. Holden hurried back into the apartment to find Coleen on her side. The blanket he’d laid her on was covered in puke. She moaned, curling into a tiny ball and shivering in spite of the beads of sweat dotting her entire face. Without her makeup she looked hollow and even sicker than she was.

  He didn’t have a bed to tuck her into, unfortunately. Holden had to trash most of his belongings when he left Keeton. The less of his scent he left behind, the better.

  Holden rushed to Coleen’s side. He sat her up and handed her a large Tupperware bowl. Coleen hardly seemed to notice him, but at least this time when she threw up it splattered in the container.

  Rubbing her back, Holden whispered, “It’s okay. You’re okay. I know it sucks, but you’ll be feeling better real soon.”

  She glanced at him, her eyes distant and bleak.