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

by Deidre Huesmann

  Rachael started to leave, paused, and then tiptoed in.

  Yes, she realized. His bandages were gone, and the place where he’d been shot appeared fully healed. Yet he continued to baby that shoulder so many weeks later when he should have been fine.

  And, she saw, he had a lot more scars than that.

  She’d vaguely noticed when checking his wound a few weeks ago but hadn’t wanted to stare. Now she could make out a lot of them, even in the meager hallway light. There were three other marks similar to the one near his heart; two in his lower abdomen and one right above his belly button. They were only slight concaves compared to the fresh one and probably had taken several decades to heal. Time had paled the scars while his latest was a glaring red in color, with four thin cut lines that stuck out like star bursts. There was also a slightly dipped white scar that ran from his rib and down around his side, plus a few more scattered across his torso that were razor-thin and almost flesh-toned. Some were long slices. Others were short and reminiscent of stab wounds.

  Aaron got hurt a lot, she thought with a wince. How many scars were deserved? And how many more were not?

  It rocked Rachael to her heels to realize she didn’t actually know much of anything about his past. A shuddering breath escaped her and she pulled away. Why that thought shook her so badly she wasn’t certain, but she definitely didn’t like it.

  Rachael glanced at his face and found black eyes staring at her.

  She blanched and took a step back. “I—”

  Nathan was inhumanly quick, but Aaron’s speed was downright supernatural. Rachael didn’t see him reach out and grab her. She didn’t see anything but blurs as he ripped her off the floor and threw her down on the bed next to him. Terror seized her and Rachael jerked a knee toward the soft area of his abdomen. Aaron pushed her leg down as easily as swatting a fly and clenched her wrists in one of his hands. The dull crunch of her bones rubbing together made Rachael cry out in pain.

  Aaron yanked her arms up and pinned her hands above her head. Desperate, she tried to throw him off. He responded by gripping the base of her throat and applying pressure.

  Rachael gasped and stilled. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes and she hysterically wondered what he was going to do with her—and why? Why attack her?

  Leaning so close the tips of his hair whispered against her forehead, Aaron said quietly, “If I were another lycan, you would be dead.”

  Rachael’s chest heaved. He narrowed his eyes and released her wrists. It helped a little, but she still wavered on a brink of mindless sobs.

  Aaron didn’t give her any space. “You said you wanted to become a lycan. Tell me why.”

  Her heart felt close to exploding. Rachael choked on her words until she found the right ones. “I—I don’t want... to lose Jackie again.”

  His eyes grazed over her face, focusing in particular on her mouth. Rachael tensed, recalling how Holden had forced a rough kiss on her not that long ago. No... please, don’t—

  “Relax,” said Aaron quietly. He lowered his hand completely from her throat and it came to rest on the mattress beside her shoulder. “I have no intention of harming you. I was merely proving a point.”

  What? She continued to suck in air, attempting to calm herself.

  Aaron finally focused on her eyes. His expression was deadly serious. “Nathan is good. Holden is better. But I am the best.”

  Rachael finally felt her agonizing pulse start to calm. “I don’t understand,” she breathed.

  “Yes. You do.” Aaron retreated, standing on the floor and buttoning his shirt. “You saw me favor my left side and assumed I was still hurt. You subconsciously saw me as weaker. I proved you wrong. Such a small trick to play, and yet you fell quite easily for it.”

  A mixture of humiliation and fury scoured her veins. “I—”

  He silenced her with a stare that could shatter glass. “You cannot afford to let your guard down. Not even with those you trust.” He lowered his eyes slightly, though did not look completely away from her. “It is a lesson I have unfortunately only recently learned.”

  He was talking about Holden. Rachael’s mouth fell open but no words came to mind. What could she possibly say? How could she comfort betrayal?

  “Are you offering to teach me?” she asked tentatively.

  “No. I am ordering it.” His jaw set and he reached out to her. Rachael eyed him warily but accepted his hand. He pulled her swiftly to her feet, not letting go even when she found her balance on the carpet. “I cannot make you a lycan, but if you are to survive any potential threat then you must be able to stand against one. And you will not find better than me.”

  “Well,” she whispered, “you are the alpha.”

  Aaron smirked.

  Rachael nodded. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  “I know.” And then, too suddenly, he released her. All his heat seemed to siphon out of her arm in an instant, leaving her chilled and puzzled. Aaron walked past her as though their exchange had never happened.

  He stopped in the doorway. When he turned to look at her the light from the hall cast him into a sharp silhouette. “Rachael.”

  Her head snapped toward him. “Y-yes?”

  Deadpan, he said, “I will not be any gentler on you than the rest of my pack. Is that understood? You cannot use being human as an excuse when you are up against a lycan.”

  Oh, god, she could already feel the bruises. People were going to think she was getting abused at home. Rachael inwardly cringed but aloud said, “Okay.”

  Strangely, he seemed unhappy with her reaction. Aaron nodded and disappeared down the hallway.

  Rachael stood in the middle of his bedroom, struggling to process her emotions. In just five minutes he’d induced so much: fear, excitement, confusion, a hunger to become a good student, and something else that stirred in a deeper, sleepy part of her that had never roused in her life.

  She wasn’t ready to meet that part, and that was all she needed to know to quash it down. Rachael hurriedly smoothed her hair back and went to join the kids in the kitchen, allowing Aaron’s bedroom door to click shut behind her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Aaron had just played a dangerous game back in his room.

  The ultimate endgame had taken days of careful acting; pretending his shoulder hurt worse than it did and feigning enormous lack of interest in anything Rachael took part in. He’d watched her slowly pick up on his dispassionate treatment of her and, admittedly, taken perverse pleasure in the bafflement that flooded her eyes during or after each encounter.

  Aaron hadn’t planned on revealing he was to take over her lessons in that manner, but when she’d decided to sneak in instead of accepting he was asleep (even though he wasn’t—not when she crept in, at least) Aaron knew the chance was perfect. Impressing upon her how unskilled she was remained pertinent.

  Though he hadn’t expected that level of terror when he’d pinned her down. Her reaction had been much closer to that of someone who had recently experienced trauma, like his violence had been far worse than it was. Not at all what he’d intended to inspire.

  He had accomplished what he needed, yet felt utterly sickened by her behavior. Or, more aptly, what that behavior meant.

  Something else was going on, and she wasn’t saying a word about it.

  Aaron breezed into the kitchen and helped himself to the food Rachael had prepared. He felt Nathan and Ana Sofia eyeing him curiously, probably dying to know what the commotion upstairs had been about.

  So he turned and said firmly, “I will take over her training starting Monday.”

  Nathan failed to hide his gleeful smile in time. “Uh... how come?”

  “No more Rachael?” asked Ana Sofia quietly.

  Aaron ignored his brother and nodded to the girl. “Not for training. She will be around otherwise.”

  Ana Sofia smiled and stuck a piece of broccoli into her mouth.

  Blonde hair tried to obscure Nathan’s eyes as the boy eyed
him, still fighting a tiny grin. “Don’t be mean to her.”

  Aaron scoffed. “She shall receive the same treatment as any lycan.”

  “You’re gonna hurt her if you do that.”

  A subtle undertone Aaron almost missed underlined his words. He frowned at his little brother but Nathan preoccupied his mouth with a healthy helping of rice rather than answer.

  Even more suspicious.

  Aaron made himself comfortable against an empty space of counter when Rachael rejoined them. She didn’t look at him, clearly trying to pretend nothing had happened upstairs. Instead she sighed and said, “Ana Sofia, you need to eat the chicken, too.”

  Ana Sofia shook her head obstinately. “Don’t like chicken.”

  “Everybody likes chicken,” said Rachael incredulously. It was an argument he’d heard them have several times before.

  “No. Like deer.”

  “Deer would be better,” agreed Aaron.

  For having such lack of color in her eyes, Rachael’s certainly blazed to life when she was irritated. “Well, unless you’re either buying or skinning, gutting, and butchering the deer, I’m not making it. And I’m especially not making it in stir fry.”

  “Tempting,” said Aaron as he smiled laconically. “But I am injured.”

  She glared at him.

  “I’ll do it,” offered Nathan.

  “I’m not cooking it,” stated Rachael. “Why aren’t you out hunting if you all want it?”

  Aaron shrugged, showing off how well his shoulder was. A small tinge of pain tingled in his back, but it wasn’t agony. That small action antagonized Rachael further and it took a lot of willpower to hide his amusement. “Ana Sofia is still considered a missing child. If we leave and she is seen, there will be obvious complications.”

  Rachael looked to the child, who continued to separate the chicken from her vegetables. Then she sighed and said, “What are you planning to do about Holden?”

  Complete silence flooded the room, aside from Ana Sofia picking at her food. Aaron set his plate on the counter behind him and said quietly, “Nathan. Ana Sofia. Upstairs, now.”

  For once Nathan didn’t argue. He murmured something to Ana Sofia, who put down her fork and followed his lead. Aaron waited for the upstairs door to close before he turned. He gestured for Rachael to follow.

  Aaron led her down an ill-used staircase to a finished basement. The walls were soundproofed and the ground was carpeted in a plush, thick shade of crimson. Bookshelves, boxes, and a desk with Aaron’s things had been pushed against one wall. All in order, all neatly stacked, yet none of it unpacked. A single overhead lamp hung in the center of the room.

  Aaron pulled a beaded cord to turn it on. Bright white flooded the space with such blinding quality that it mimicked an interrogation chamber. Nothing decorated this room to give it any sense of warmth. Not even a window had been installed to allow a glimpse of the cloudy day outside.

  Originally, Aaron had intended this to be Holden’s bedroom once he rejoined the pack. As soon as Holden attacked him and fell from his graces, Aaron had insulated the walls and called it good as a privacy box.

  Rachael hugged herself against the drop in temperature. Her expression was uncertain but she didn’t back down.

  So Aaron stood in the center of the room and nodded for her to close the door. Once she did he said, “Do not involve them again.”

  “They’re your pack,” she said softly. She tugged the sleeves of her sweater tighter, as though it would help warm her. “And you got shot. They should be involved.”

  “No. Not in this.” Tension thrummed in his muscles. “Holden is my problem. And as much as I prefer him not to be yours, he seems rather insistent on making it so.”

  Rachael’s eyelashes lowered. “Not really.”

  “It must be ‘really,’ given your behavior,” he pointed out. It took a lot of self-control to dull the edge in his tone. He didn’t like that she inspired his impatience. “Rachael.” She looked at him. “I do not know what occurred and I do not know why. I only know you have changed unusually, even given your circumstances. So I can assume it must be Holden. And I know he is still approaching you somewhere; somehow.”

  “Why would you say that?” she whispered.

  “As I said: your unusual behavior.”

  Rachael glared at him in stubborn disagreement. “Even if there was a small possibility that was true—and it’s not—there’s no reason for him to bother me anymore.”

  Aaron bit down on his agitation. “There is since he loves you. And you still love him.”

  Rachael went rigid. Her voice tightened. “I do not.”

  Aaron just watched her, careful to give away nothing.

  “I don’t,” she insisted, her voice rising. “He killed Vera. I can hardly stand to look at him.”

  He strode up to her, making her flinch. But Aaron pushed past that and pulled the collar of her shirt aside before he tugged at the thin chain resting against her neck. Astonishment and then embarrassment colored her face different shades as he pulled out the pendant. It had been nestled against her breastbone, hidden from sight, but whenever she wore it Rachael held a faint yet distinctive metallic smell.

  “This,” he said quietly, “was a birthday gift last year, was it not?”

  Rachael bit her lip and nodded.

  Aaron turned the pendant over in his fingers. The craftsmanship was decent but hokey, and the beady red eyes were made of cheap plastic. It did not suit Rachael at all—it did not suit anybody who truly admired wolves or lycans. It was junk.

  In short, she didn’t wear it for the skill put into crafting the pendant. The necklace was not something pricey or valuable. When she wore it, she did it out of pure sentiment.

  Aaron let go of the necklace. The pendant thumped softly against her violet T-shirt. She flinched as though it seared her skin through the cotton.

  “It does not matter to me,” said Aaron with all the indifference he could muster. “The point is you have residual feelings for him in some way. He sees it when he sees you, no matter what your words or body language. So he holds on to hope.”

  Rachael sucked in a deep breath. Aaron could see how hard his assessment struck, and how deeply it troubled her. “I don’t love him,” she asserted. “I don’t know what he’s seeing, but that’s not it.”

  “When you wear a symbol given in affection, it gives a man certain ideas,” said Aaron. “Given Holden’s penchant for gift-giving, it is especially strong with him.”

  To his surprise, Rachael’s hands flew under her hair and she fumbled at the back of her neck. Within moments she unclasped the necklace and held it away from her body. Determination flared in her features, and her teeth remained clenched as she spoke.

  “I might hope Holden will come to his senses and give up all this—these stupid revenge fantasies he has. But I don’t love him. Not anymore.” And then, with flourish only a teenager could conjure, she tossed the pendant to the floor where it bounced across the carpet.

  Admittedly, Aaron had not expected her to denounce Holden aloud so easily. He followed the pendant’s short, jolting path across the floor and held its cheap gaze until it stopped altogether. The metal wolf’s maw hung comically open, baring teeth that couldn’t harm a rabbit. Much like they all used to be.

  Exactly like Rachael used to be.

  Aaron watched her stare at him, her fists clenched at her sides so her knuckles were white. For the first time her grey eyes were absent of sadness and loss, instead glinting with cold resolution.

  “It might be my fault he won’t go away,” said Rachael. “But I won’t let it be my fault that he stays. I won’t let him hurt Ana Sofia.”

  Aaron’s smile turned arctic. “Plans have changed. He intends to kill me and take over as pack alpha.”

  Rachael’s jaw dropped. To her credit, she recovered smoothly. “Okay,” she replied. “Then we can’t let him kill you.”

  “Or have my pack,” said Aaron quietly.
<
br />   “Or... have your pack.”

  “Or you.”

  Rachael turned a compelling shade of red. “I—”

  “So long as he has feelings for you, I guarantee he will be in your life,” said Aaron. It was a foolish thing to do, but he still reached out and moved a few stray strands of hair from her eyes. “It does not matter whether it is the love you want; Holden does not get attached easily, and once he does, it is the love you will receive until he is through.”

  Not that Holden had ever fallen for a woman before; not like with Rachael. But he had taken particular likings to a couple lycans in their pack. When he had been younger and much less jaded, prior to his immense distaste for his acquired nature. Unfortunately, and inevitably, those lycans had to be put down for complications from the fade.

  Still, the pattern was there. Aaron hadn’t thought it to ever cross over to Rachael given the more intimate nature, but apparently he’d been wrong.

  Rachael flinched as though he’d smacked her in the face. “Why didn’t you ever say anything about it before?”

  Aaron scoffed and pulled his hand away. “Would you have listened? Before Vera’s death?”

  Her silence was answer enough.

  “I know my pack,” said Aaron. “And that still includes Holden, though he is exiled. I understand him better than anyone. In many ways he does the same for me.”

  “Even though he hates it,” she murmured.

  “Yes.”

  Rachael groaned and held her head in the heels of her hands. She pressed them against her eyes as though trying to quell an oncoming migraine. Aaron stood silent.

  “So what are we going to do?” she finally asked.

  “For now, get you in a position to defend yourself when we leave,” said Aaron, all brisk business. “And then get my pack out of town.”

  “And Holden?” Rachael pressed, visibly agitated. “What about him? You’re just going to leave him behind?”

  “No,” said Aaron. “I will allow him to hunt me down. And when I decide he is permitted to catch me, I will kill him.”

  Considering all the death that haunted her in the past couple years, Aaron would have put some stock into Rachael becoming at least a little numb to it. But she recoiled at his words. “Is that necessary?”