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

by Deidre Huesmann

  Jackson’s smiled back, a hint of regret in his dark eyes. “Bye, RayRay.”

  Rachael spun away from the house for the last time and walked to her father’s car.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The bed Lacey had moved into his tiny apartment was more comfortable than Holden’s old one. She’d gone all out, insisting he deserved some small luxury as he recovered from his injuries. Fair enough, he supposed, considering he lacked the use of his arms for at least a couple more weeks. His cracked ribs had mostly healed, leaving his chest sore.

  That he’d lost his fight with Aaron hurt, but what killed him was Rachael’s deception. Her impassioned cry that she still loved him echoed in his nightmares. In the moment Holden had been so stunned to hear the words he’d wanted for the past several months: that she cared; that she had forgiven him for his mistake with Vera.

  But it had just been to save Aaron, he thought bitterly. And that one second had cost him the battle. One he had been winning.

  If Lacey had been in the room, she might have chided him for fretting over things he couldn’t change. Holden couldn’t help himself. This was more than losing a fight or even his first love. It was a loss of dignity, respect, and opportunity.

  Holden looked to the door as the metallic sound of a key sliding into the lock whispered into the room. After a little jiggling of the knob, the door opened and Lacey swept in. Her hair was tousled from a strong wind outside and her cheeks were flushed. But her eyes brightened as they fell upon him.

  “Hey,” he said.

  Lacey dropped her keys on the adjoining kitchen counter and strode to his—or her, really—bed. She sat on the edge and put a hand on his thigh, smiling kindly. “Hi, sweetie. How are you feeling?”

  He almost shrugged but cringed from the shooting pain that tiny effort brought. Both of his hands were wrapped in splints, and Lacey had firmly insisted on him wearing slings for the time being. It made his arms even more useless, but Holden acknowledged he couldn’t get much more useless than he was right now.

  “Been worse, honestly,” he said with a twisted smile.

  Lacey nodded and reached into her coat pocket. “Well, I found it,” she said softly. Slowly she pulled out the necklace, the chain pinched between her thumb and forefinger. She set it on the thick, fluffy comforter coating his lap. “Though I honestly don’t know why you want it,” she added, unable to hide the disdain from her voice.

  No, she wouldn’t. But Holden couldn’t dredge up the energy it required to be angry.

  “It’s a good reminder,” he said quietly. “For every stupid mistake I made.”

  A soft, cool hand touched his stubbly cheek. Lacey turned him to face her. Soulful brown eyes searched his, and she said, “Being in love is never a mistake, Holden. But in this case maybe it could be a lesson.”

  A short laugh escaped him. Even that hurt. “It’s definitely a painful one.”

  She tilted her head and then offered a dimply smile. “I brought something else back.” She stuffed her hand into her other pocket. When she withdrew it, several long blue ribbons came out twined between her fingers.

  Holden frowned slightly.

  At his expression she sighed and said, “Look. I get that necklace means something to you, but these mean a lot to me.” She set them down so they covered the wolf’s head pendant in a satiny puddle. “It’s probably ridiculous, but I like you a lot. Even—actually, especially after all of this.”

  Her confession probably should have surprised him more. At the same time, Holden had expected it to happen sooner or later. She always responded so positively to him.

  “Even after you saw me as a monster,” he said probingly.

  “You are not a monster. Holden, what I saw was incredible. It was scary and at first I thought I was in hell. But when I saw you fight I couldn’t believe how graceful and... and strong you were.” Lacey’s eyes shone as she spoke. She reached up and caught his face between both palms. “You were winning. You would have won. And after everything you’ve told me these past couple weeks, I wish you had.”

  That somebody could actually say such things about him made Holden ache a little less. At one point Rachael had thought the same—but then, she was off gallivanting with Aaron somewhere, wasn’t she?

  “Thank you, Lacey,” he murmured.

  Lacey leaned forward, resting her forehead against his as her eyes fluttered closed. “Holden, I’ve been thinking about it and... I want you to infect me. Make me into a lycan. Please.”

  “Lacey—”

  “Not now, obviously,” she interrupted, breaking contact with him to look imploringly into his eyes. “When you’re better. When we can work everything out. And maybe when we can get away from here for a little bit and just forget about the awful things that have happened.”

  Had he the use of his hands Holden would have been able to calm her down better. As it was he let her plea her case. A faint smile toyed with his lips the entire time.

  “Yes, Lacey,” he said gently when she paused to breathe. “I would love to make you a lycan.”

  She exhaled blissfully. “I will be loyal. I promise.”

  “You could die from the infection,” he reminded her.

  Lacey snorted. “I could die from a car crash tomorrow. Life’s too short to worry about things like that, sweetie.”

  Amusement crept over his features. “Fair enough,” he agreed.

  This was going smoother than he could have hoped. Holden would have thought it would take a lot more to convince her, but Lacey was prepared to jump in head first.

  She flashed him a coy smile and picked up one of the ribbons from his lap. With caution Lacey wrapped it around her neck, tying it off in the back so it hugged her skin like a choker.

  “I can’t wait,” she said, her voice mirroring her excitement.

  Neither could he, thought Holden. After everything that had occurred he still had a friend. Lacey was strong, passionate, and definitely had a hint of a wild streak. All perfect traits for those he would want to recruit into his pack.

  This was far from over. Starting with Lacey, Holden would begin infecting people he could trust to follow him and walk the line of humanity over lycan. He could still have his pack.

  And one day Aaron would die at his hands.

  Continue reading for a sneak peek at the ADULT

  continuation to Rachael and the lycans’ stories

  in the first installment of The Moonlight Wars.

  Sneak Peek: The Alpha’s Hostage

  (The Moonlight Wars book 1)

  Inhaling the spicy smoke, Rachael couldn’t hold off the wave of wistfulness that struck her. It was as useless as fighting a riptide.

  The hipster girl finally noticed her staring and returned her look. “You want one?” she asked.

  Rachael smiled faintly and shook her head. “I don’t smoke. It just reminds me of someone.”

  “Well, here.” The dreadlocked woman gestured her over. “You can invade our space for a little nostalgia.”

  That was one of the nice things about Seattle folk: some of them were perfectly open and accommodating beyond necessity. Rachael held up her hand and shook her head. “Thanks, but no. I gotta get home. Have a good night, okay?”

  “Stay safe,” said the friend beside her.

  Rachael waved and turned away. Pulling out her phone, she opened up the internet app and started to search for a taxi. She dimly noted she had missed calls but couldn’t imagine from whom. Unless, of course, it was Andrew calling to beg for cash to get home.

  “Should have remembered I owed you gas money,” she muttered to herself with a grin.

  Quickly she placed a call for a cab, but was told it would be at least two hours. She would have better luck finding one on the street. Rachael ended the call and started away from Pike Place Market. The ferry was a decent walk away, but that was going to be her best chance of catching a ride. Standing on the street like a hooker in waiting didn’t really sound like a fun n
ight.

  Good thing she still loved to hike.

  Andrew had always complained of her lack of heeled shoes, but tonight Rachael was grateful she hadn’t worn her single pair. The early fall air felt good, just a touch below summer heat, and it made her jeans and long-sleeved shirt more practical. She passed a thrumming Goth club along the way, where humorously enough the smell of cloves was even stronger.

  As she strode down a steep hill her phone began to vibrate in her back pocket. Rachael pulled it out and answered without looking to see who it was. “If it’s you, Andrew, I already left.”

  Silence, and then, “Who the hell is Andrew?”

  Rachael nearly stumbled. Her breath caught and for the first time in months she felt her eyes begin to sting. “Jackie?”

  Jackson’s voice floated boisterously through the receiver. “Happy birthday, RayRay.”

  She took a deep breath and stepped off to the side, ducking beneath the overhang of an empty business. “Jackie,” she began softly, and then shouted, “Seriously? Three years? You don’t call your baby sister for three years and that’s all you have to say?”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he protested. “You know that’s not my fault.”

  “I swear to god if I was there I would punch you,” she growled. Yet in spite of her anger Rachael wavered on the verge of grateful tears. Too long had passed since she’d heard from her brother, but it was so good to hear his voice.