What Lies Inside (A Blood Bound Novel, Book 1)

by Myers, J. L.

  Click.

  A strong flow a cool air brushed over me and my eyes fluttered open. Ty was repositioned in his seat and watching me with one arched brow. The passenger door stood wide open. I mentally slapped myself. He wants me to get out so he can leave and get away from me. And I just sat there like a moron. I clambered out of the car with shaky legs and forged a weak smile. “Thanks, I guess. Tonight was, um…different.”

  When Ty remained silent, his curious eyes watching me, I swung the door shut. Feeling like a total idiot, I went toward the house.

  Ty called out through the open window and I stalled. “See you at school.”

  With that, the window rose and the car reversed. It rumbled from the driveway, leaving me alone and standing in a band of porch light.

  After a few long minutes of dumb staring, I went inside. My mind was rolling over everything, from the race to the uncomfortable end of our date. Is that what a normal date was usually like? Or was that just normal for one with Ty?

  “Amelia,” Mom’s quiet voice sounded from the living room, her hearing sharper than a fox. “Can you please come in here?”

  Her expectant tone made me cringe. I dragged my feet across polished marble to stand in the tall archway. Everything in this room was pristine, from the mink-white carpet and four crystal chandeliers, to the mixture of plush and wooden furniture. Mom was sitting in her usual spot, the same green armchair she’d had shipped from Anchorage. It was the only thing that looked out of place.

  Mom was dressed in blue designer sweats, and had been painting her acrylic nails ruby-red. She pushed the bottle aside, her expression eager yet restrained. “Hi sweetheart, how was it?”

  “It was… nice.” I absentmindedly cracked my knuckles, almost wishing I could forget the entire night.

  Mom raised her eyebrows, and for a moment I thought I saw a shift in her expression. Then it was gone, and she was fiddling with the zipper of her sweat top. “And?” she prompted.

  With an impatient breath I said, “We had dinner at a little Italian restaurant in Portsmouth.” There was no way in hell I was about to mention Ty’s detour. I was still way too twisted in knots about it. I swear I could still feel the smoldering heat of his lips pressed to mine. The glow of his golden eyes was imprinted on my brain.

  Mom tucked her lose blond hair behind her ears. Her ice-blue eyes narrowed and subtle frown lines scored her face. “So there weren’t any problems?”

  She was asking if I’d slipped and lost control. Disappointment and self-doubt weighed against my chest. If Mom doesn’t trust me, how can I trust myself? “No, there weren’t any problems.” I clutched my hands stiff at my sides, sensing a growing anger welling within. “You’re the one who’s been pushing us to live normal lives!” For the second time today my nails dug into my palms. Except this time I squeezed harder, breaking the flesh with a sting. “Why, when you never believed we could?”

  Mom’s face dropped, riddled with guilt. “That’s not true.” Rising to her bare, manicured feet she glided forward. Her steps were so light she almost looked to be floating. She grasped my shoulders with firm hands. “I have all the faith in the world in you and your brother. Although I do understand that all of this has been terribly difficult, especially for you. I won’t deny I was concerned. But you’re doing so well.” Her arms circled around me, locking me in a tender embrace. “Amelia, I am so proud of you.”

  Feeling my anger diffuse but with growing exhaustion kicking in, I pulled away. “It’s late, and I’m really tired. Where’s Dorian?” I had half expected him to be waiting in the living room with Mom when I returned home.

  Mom moved back to her seat. “In bed, I think. Why?”

  A weight that I hadn’t even realized was there, lifted from my shoulders. “No reason.”

  I turned with a yawn and tiptoed up the broad, curving stairs. Making a sound wasn’t an option. If Dorian heard me, I’d be screwed. When I closed my bedroom door behind me, standing in blackness, I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Trying to avoid me?”

  The familiar voice spoken from the darkness caused my entire body to convulse. Dammit! I flicked on the chandelier. Dorian stood out against a sea of varying purples on the foot of my bed. He was dressed only in a pair of pajama bottoms. An expectant look was scrawled across his face. I attempted to cover my shock. “What are you doing in here? I thought you were already in bed.”

  Dorian flashed a devilish smile before hurtling a bottle of blood through the air at my head. “I’m guessing you need this.”

  My swift reflexes kicked in and I caught the glass bottle just in time. With my body needing the boost, I gulped down the contents. Then I raised my eyebrows in question.

  “Unless you were lying to Mom about controlling yourself,” Dorian said flashing his fangs. “But, seeing as I heard his car come and go, I am going to assume you didn’t go dental on him.”

  My face dropped, and I imagined what little color there was draining from my cheeks. The candid memory of Ty’s hot lips against mine, and my fangs breaking forth in animal instinct, flooded my mind.

  “Anyway,” he said, reclining back on his elbows while watching me intently. “What happened after I left?”

  With a shrug, I walked over to my bathroom and turned on the fluorescents. They flickered before gleaming against the white-marble counter. I placed the empty bottle down. Then I snuck a piece of chocolate from the vanity’s top drawer, shoving it into my mouth. “We had dinner. Then Ty drove me home.” The air suddenly felt humid, which was impossible given how cool the autumn nights in Rye were. Sweat began to coalesce across my brow, a physical tell that hinted at my deception. I splashed water up over my face before turning back to Dorian.

  “So,” he said, skepticism painting his tone. “Nothing else unusual happened?”

  Feeling like a criminal on trial, I crossed the room to rummage through my walk-in. For the minimal amount of clothing I owned it was oversized and much too extravagant, with unending shelves and roller-fed draws. I kept my face turned. “No, nothing, he seems completely normal.” As I turned back to Dorian, I racked my brain. There had to be something I could say to redirect his train of thought. Bingo. “Though, he did notice you followed us.”

  The shock that jumped across Dorian’s face was palpable. He lurched upright, his shoulder colliding with one of the solid, mauve-wrapped pillars of my bed. “Shit! Was he angry?”

  Recalling Ty’s unexpected reaction, I shook my head. “No. I spun some bull about you being overprotective, and he bought it.” I pulled a pair of black satin pajamas from the only filled draw in my walk-in, and glanced back to Dorian’s unsatisfied expression. The blood had given me a little boost, but I was still exhausted. The last thing I wanted was to continue this discussion. Keeping Dorian in the dark was already hard enough. “I’m going to bed.” When Dorian didn’t move, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Go away so I can change!”

  Dorian rose to his feet, his eyes narrowing. “Okay. But I’ll be keeping an eye on him.” He crossed the room, and with one last glance, shut the door behind him.

  ~

  “Kill me,” I sniffed, swiping away the tears that streamed down my face. “I’m a fucking monster!”

  I glanced up to the person who had ripped me from my prey. The blurry haze of my rose-colored tears seemed to wash away with a blink of my eyes. Standing before me was a tan boy wearing hunting boots. A boy I recognized all too well. His iridescent, gold eyes gleamed down on me. They were brighter than the full moon escaping the angry, rolling clouds above. My breath caught in my throat and my eyes widened in utter disbelief. It couldn’t be him.

  But it was. The same boy who had captured my curiosity from the first moment I’d laid eyes on him. The same boy who sparked involuntary reactions within me like no other person ever had before.

  His corded muscles twitched beneath the skin-tight, black shirt covering his chest. His scarred hand was clutching a pointed, silver weapon at his side. Silve
r, the one element that could burn a vampire’s skin on contact—and kill them, if it pierced the heart. The sound of his voice reverberated through the air, as unmistakable as his face. “You want to die?”

  His lips split to reveal sharp-pointed canines as he lunged, muscles taut with power. The weapon in his hand was aimed at my heart.

  I bolted upright, my chest heaving with crushing ragged breath. My eyes darted around. Silhouetted shadows surrounded me. The familiar and unmoving shapes told me one thing: I was no longer trapped in the darkened alley backing the nightclub in Anchorage. Instead, I sat amongst a tangle of purple linens on my own bed. The satin pajamas I had thrown on earlier were plastered to my body by sweat. I struggled to control my breathing. It was just a dream.

  Knowing that didn’t slow the slamming of my heart against my ribs, or make the images any less disturbing. Because this wasn’t the first time I’d had this dream. Since that fateful night back in Anchorage, I’d woken from the same nightmare almost every night, always with a sudden jolt. But tonight had been different. Before tonight, I had never been able to identify the mysterious boy who had interrupted my kill. He had always appeared faceless. Now the reality of that night seemed so vivid, so unforgettably clear. The features that made up his face, the deep, unwavering tone of his voice, and the infinite power he exuded. A body-jarring shudder ran from the crown of my head down to the tips of my fingers and toes.

  Was it him all along? Was the boy from the alley Ty?

  ~

  During a weekend of text wars with Kendrick, I’d made only passing mention of my first ever date. Kendrick seemed uninterested in talking about it, which was good. I didn’t want to have to answer questions when I still had so many of my own. Following that we set up Skype so we could watch a marathon of The Vampire Diaries together. It had been my pick, as Kendrick preferred boring snowboarding documentaries.

  Now it was finally Monday. Feeling down, I headed for my last class of the day, art. A desperate need to see Ty had pulled at me since waking from my dream the other night. If only I could see his face to discount entirely the conjured recollection.

  It’s impossible, I kept telling myself. It was just a merging of the real and the imagined, a distortion of reality. But I couldn’t forget the clarity of his features, voice and eyes, the way he’d looked at me. Then there was the way I’d felt when seeing him on my first day at St. Volaras. He’d seemed so familiar then. It was too coincidental, wasn’t it? Or was it really just a cruel trick of my mind?

  But Ty had been absent from our shared psychology class, and hadn’t been present in the cafeteria for lunch, either. In fact, no one bar Dorian had made an appearance during lunch hour. So where were they all? And what were they doing?

  I stepped through the open doorway to my art class. The sound of gossiping students filled the air. I hurried past them toward the sanctuary of my easel at the other end of the room. Mrs. Ruby—unperturbed by the growing chatter—assisted students near the entry. The glass panels along the back wall were slightly open. A light breeze blew, cleansing away the collected scent of blood tainting the air.

  With a deep clearing breath, I settled at my easel and began squeezing paints onto a pallet. Then I stared at my developing portrait, as if staring would will inspiration my way. The portrait was coming along, slowly. A decent portrayal, I thought, of how I saw myself in ten years. My skin was still porcelain white, and lips were the chalky shade of a wilting rose. Golden-blond hair billowed down my back, even longer that its current waist-length. Not a single blemish or wrinkle marked my ageless face.

  I will never live a normal life.

  The depressing statement couldn’t have been truer. Turned vampires could live for around half a millennium. And according to our mom, born vampires, Pure Bloods, could easily double that. After what she and Caius had done to Dorian and me, our lifespans could be closer to a Pure Blood’s than a turned vampire’s. So as the humans around me aged at a regular pace, I would not. Eventually those who knew me would notice. So an existence of constant moving and new faces, of pretending to be normal when I was anything but, was what lay ahead for me. For all of us.

  “Ugh,” I sighed. Without the distraction of Vanessa’s incessant chatter on all things fashion, my mind wandered back to the unbelievable and still crystal clear dream of Ty.

  The familiar sound of heeled stilettos clinking against the polished concrete floor cut through the muddled mess in my mind. I looked up to catch Vanessa strolling into class, late. She was dressed in a short tartan skirt and ankle boots. Her long red hair hung in loose, bouncing curls over her shoulders. She stepped around me, eying my portrait. “New direction?”

  Wondering what was encouraging her critical expression, I turned back. My eyes widened. In place of my own silvery-flecked, blue eyes, I had painted iridescent gold ones. They were the same eyes I had dreamed of and seen in the flesh as his lips connected with mine. They were the same unusual and changeable eyes that belonged to Ty. I snatched a moist sponge from the paint rack and swiped away the evidence, smearing gold across my painted face. “Just experimenting,” I said, turning my sights back to Vanessa. “You weren’t at lunch.”

  Vanessa shrugged with a look of indifference and took her seat. She began organizing paints onto a pallet. “I was studying in the library. God, I hate being so perfect.” She turned her sapphire eyes onto me. There was a disapproving edge to her tone. “So, your date with Ty… How was it?”

  Tightness constricted my chest and my fingers rose to my mouth. I could still remember the heat of Ty’s burning lips pressed to mine. Just recalling my thirst for his blood had my gums tingling. “It was, um…different.”

  Vanessa’s lips twitched as though she were about to respond, then thought better of it.

  “By the way,” I said, trying to keep my tone light to mask the anticipation that dyed my throat. “Where is Ty today?”

  Vanessa’s eyes narrowed at her own canvas. “Camping in the White Mountains. He and Troy take off school with their fathers sometimes, to experience the wilderness.”

  Was she lying? I frowned, uncertain. With the constant power-struggle between Ty and Troy, I doubted they could stand any amount of time camping together. So if he wasn’t with Troy and their fathers, was he even camping at all? “When do they get back?”

  Vanessa waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, they should be back in a few days.”

  Unconvinced, I resettled into painting, fixing the gold that was now smeared across my canvas. Conflicting thoughts ran through my head. There was Ty’s absence, our date, the dream, Vanessa’s excuse for Ty being away, and the mysterious boy from the alley. What did it all mean?

  By the end of class my head was throbbing from my racing thoughts. I retreated back to the main building, stomping through the packed corridor to my locker. I retrieved my iPhone—thinking of Kendrick at seeing its Three Days Grace case—and dialed Ty’s number. The progressing ring in my ear caused an uncontrollable flutter of my heart. I knew calling him like this after our strange date was rash. But I had to know where he was, and with who, and if Vanessa was covering for him, why.

  “Amelia?” Ty’s surprised voice echoed through the speaker.

  “Where are you?” I demanded, tone impetuous but kept low to avoid attention from passing students.

  “No, ‘hey how’s it going’?” God, I could hear the mocking in Ty’s voice.

  I slammed my locker shut and slumped against it. A few kids turned to stare before swiftly averting their eyes at the venomous look plastered across my face. “Just tell me where you are.”

  “Okay,” Ty said with audible hesitation. “I’m visiting my brother at boarding school, in New Hampton. Why?”

  Liar! The voice inside my head held no uncertainty this time. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but there had been something in Ty’s hesitant voice that was a clear tell. Ty was the one lying, not Vanessa. Agitation grew like flames up my neck, enveloping my face. I hung up and shoved the phone into m
y pocket before I could crush it in my hand. Secrets, lies… What was he hiding?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  By Wednesday, Ty still hadn’t returned to school. But when I stepped into my psych class after lunch, I froze. The scent of chlorine and his blood filled the air around me.

  My eyes raked over the classroom. Posters of psychological jargon covered the walls and each of the desks—set in twos—were occupied by other students. Ty usually sat up the back. He wasn’t there. Then I found him, sitting at the desk beside my regular spot. His training bag was on the floor at his feet. The sight of him, looking so casual and so freaking laid-back, boiled my blood. I yanked my earbuds from my ears, cutting off Red’s song ‘Mystery of you’. How could he act so normal, when he was so full of it?

  Sucking air I stalked across the room, passing the desks of whispering students, to stand before Ty. I could sense the critical sneer from a few girls around the room. Our names were on their hushed, flapping lips. They’re jealous? Ty was hot, seriously hot. But with the hostility my body language was currently propelling at him, their jealousy was laughable.

  Ty glanced up, face lit by a confident smile. “You’re mad?”

  I dumped my textbooks and iPod on the desk and planted my hands on my hips. “Shouldn’t I be?”

  Footsteps reached my ears as the classroom door swung closed. “Seats please everyone. Let’s get started,” Mr. McKenna instructed, pushing his glasses up on his nose. When I didn’t move he pointed to the desk beside Ty. “Sit down, Miss Lamont.” He turned to the blackboard and began writing up a list of read-through chapters.

  With a groan, I begrudgingly stepped around Ty. I shoved open the windowpane, breathing through my mouth in an effort to clear the aroma of his blood from my nostrils. A slight, icy breeze floated through the crack. The effectiveness was fractional. Tingles still cascaded across my gums, prickling with the threat of fangs.