Bite Me.

By Fallon Jones

What if your dreams weren't your own? What if the boy of dreams comes in a nightmare?
Holly Hawthorne was just a good girl with a Cassandra Complex, but that all changed when she opened her door to the handsome, sarcastic vampire bleeding on her porch. And something about his peridot eyes seemed too familiar... Hadn't she seen them before somewhere? Surrounded by a cheerleading werewolf with pink fingernails, a Russian Amazon with a fetish for big guns, vision-impaired vampire, and an ancient prophecy, the caustic couple must face an evil older than time, and a bond more powerful than death itself.
Some love is meant to last forever. But how many lives do you need to live to find one worth dying for?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fallon Jones
• Release date: Jan 15, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458189776

Fallon Jones

Fallon Jones is a writer from the rainy state of Washington currently residing in California. She has released three novels, Bite Me. The Jaws of Life, and The Lazarus Serum, which have sold thousands of copies worldwide. This year she received her Bachelor's in Literature at University of California - Santa Barbara's prestigious College of Creative Studies program. When not writing, Fallon can be found strolling cemeteries, rocking out at punk shows, and drinking too much tea at Starbucks.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Riiinnnggg!

I've been waiting for that sound all year! I yelled, throwing my arms in the air as my schoolbooks scattered across the floor. Bridgette rolled her eyes and daintily kicked one of my books aside with the tip of her shoe.

Holly, you hear that sound at least twice a day.

Yeah, but today it’s actually important.

So that’s why you never get to first period on time.

I ignored my best friend and continued. It’s the last day of school!

She sighed and flipped her corn silk hair. I thought you liked school. You have a GPA of like, 4.

I wish. It’s only a 3.9 something.

You have a 3.9? I’m barely passing!

Anyway, its summer vacation, we shouldn’t be talking about grades. Got any plans for the summer? I interrupted quickly.

Bridgette shrugged in nonchalance. My family’s taking a trip to Hawaii.

Lucky! I’m gonna be at home all summer! I paused to let out a dramatic sigh. Oh well, I guess I’ll have to spend my time blasting music in my room.

Like that’s anything new. You really need to get out more, Holly. Just promise me you won’t spend all summer locked up in your house by yourself bored out of your mind.

Beep beep!

Bridgette glanced over her shoulder at the silver sports car and waved carelessly, then turned back to me and flashed a dazzling smile. Well, I gotta go, my Dad’s here. See you when I get back!

Bye! I called back enthusiastically. I waited until she was out of earshot and let out a sigh.

Oh well, one more summer by myself isn’t going to kill me.

I look back on that statement now and wish life wasn’t so ironic.

* * *

I tore through the forest and looked back over my shoulder anxiously.

It’s getting closer, I told myself grimly, gasping for breath as I pressed forward through the darkness.

A flash of mismatched eyes blinked at me eerily through the dense woods, and the sight made my chest freeze. I pressed forward faster than before.

I can’t see a thing! There are too many trees, I thought vainly, glancing up at the faint glow of stars between the evergreen branches. My foot caught a root and I lurched forward, my palms colliding with the sharp sting of dead needles. I jumped back onto my feet, only to fall back again.

I’m stuck! I yanked at my right leg frantically as white-hot pain raced up my ankle.

I let out a piercing scream as a tall man with one green eye and one blue loomed over me, a smug smile on his cat-like face.

Suddenly someone was standing between us. His ebony hair hung over his face. He was wet with perspiration, and his beautiful green eyes changed suddenly to gold. They shone fiercely; almost feral in the dim light. But for some reason, I knew he was safe. He took a step closer to me and glared at the other man, baring his—fangs?

* * *

I woke with a start, gasping for breath. I turned to look at my digital clock.

It’s already nine! I’m gonna be late for—oh yeah. I yawned and stretched my arms. It’s summer vacation.

I grinned sleepily, flopping back down onto the bed and burying my head under the pillows. I let out a sigh.

What a weird dream, I murmured. I really need to stop eating so much sugar before I go to sleep.

I stood up finally and switched on my stereo, stifling a yawn. Queen blared through the speakers as I walked over to my window and drew back the blinds, squinting as sunlight streamed into the bedroom. I headed toward the dresser groggily and pulled out an old T-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. Images of last night’s dream flashed through my mind, and I shook my head.

It all seemed so real. Why doesn’t anything interesting ever happen to me?

Aside from my music, the house seemed eerily silent. I shrugged off the feeling and headed downstairs. I should really be used to the lack of company by now.

I gazed up at the familiar apple tree in my front yard and tucked my sketchbook under my arm. I’d lived here on the same suburban street since I was born. The pale green walls were fading quicker now, but the house was sturdy enough to have lasted through countless natural disasters.

Well, mostly natural.

Let summer vacation begin! I called out with a grin. I reached up to the lowest branch and heaved myself up. The tree swayed softly as a breeze rustled through its bright green leaves.

This is far enough, I decided quickly, dangling my legs over the side of the branch as I clung to the trunk for dear life. Heights had never been my favorite obstacles in life. Well, at least I’m short so I don’t have very far to fall.

I placed the notebook on my lap and stared down silently at the red cloth covering. It was the last thing I had received from my parents the day that they …

I bit my lip, flipped the sketchbook open to a fresh page, and began to draw. By now the tattered notebook was almost completely filled up with loose sketches of my friends and family, and their faces stared back as I skimmed through in hopes of finding a blank page. Today I was going to do something different.

I began to sketch a boy with chiseled features, no more than a few years older than me. High cheekbones offset his ivory skin and square jaw, which was tight with strain. I shaded in the tousled jet-black hair that fell just past his chin, and then moved to his eyes. They were an impossibly light green, almost peridot. But there was something so lost in the gaze they held. His pale lips were parted just slightly. As I sat back to see if my intricacy had paid off, I bit my lip.

The boy I drew had fangs.

I frowned and snapped my notebook shut. Unless you counted watching a few episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I was never particularly fond of the bloodsucking (though beautiful) breed.

"And the only reason I watched Buffy is because I like ’80s movies!" I groaned, jumping out of the tree. I stepped back into the house and set my notebook down on the kitchen counter, picking up my laptop instead.

I’ve got mail! I announced in a singsong voice, pulling up my first new message. I glanced back at the screen and let out a laugh.

Heya, Hawthorne, what’s up? It’s Bridgette. I’m boreding the plain in an our, so I figured I should give you a little more info. We’re staying on the beach on one of the big islands in a resort! Missin ya already! <3

Luv, Bridgette

I rolled my eyes. It really was a miracle that she passed English. Then again, she happened to be dating the English teacher’s son when we got our report cards, which may have helped a little.

I stood up and walked into the living room, rooting through the stack of movies my brother Jackson and I had strewn across the living room floor. For some reason I’d never had the heart to put them away after he left to join the military almost a year ago.

What’s the longest movie series I can think of? I wondered, trying to find something that could possibly occupy my entire summer vacation.

I was actually starting to miss school.

I glanced down at the movie in my hands. This could work.

* * *

I jolted awake and wondered how far I’d gotten into the Return of the King before I’d dozed off.

This is not how I planned on spending my summer, I thought groggily, glancing out the window. It was already dusk, and I could barely make out the tip of the sun as it sank off the horizon, leaving a faint indigo glow in the sky. I fumbled for the remote control, and then found it, stabbing me in the back. I took it as a sign and turned off the television. I rolled off the couch and tilted my head, straining my ears. There was a soft thump on the door.

Who would come to the house so late? Everyone’s off vacationing somewhere, and Jackson’s still at college. I scanned the living room quickly, looking for a weapon to make myself a little more intimidating. Being a seventeen-year-old girl at five-foot, two-inches, I doubted anything was going to help at this point. I found my brother’s old baseball bat lying against the closet door and picked it up, heading cautiously toward the front door.

There were no more sounds coming from the other side, so I made the first move. Who’s there? My boyfriend will be here any second! I yelled through the locked door. Since I didn’t actually have a boyfriend, I hoped it wasn’t one of my friends outside. I listened for a reply, but heard nothing. As if on cue, crickets began to chirp. I twisted the doorknob cautiously and then yanked the door open. My breath hitched in my throat and I stood like a deer in the headlights, utterly motionless.

It was the boy from my dream.

Chapter 2

It was definitely him. Same hair; same green eyes …

I stood in shock for a few more seconds and then snapped out of my thoughts when I realized he was lying on the ground.

Are you okay? I asked anxiously, kneeling down to see him at eye level. His face was covered with cuts and bruises, and he looked up at me silently, a pained expression on his face.

I'm guessing that’s a no. I prayed he wasn’t a psychopath as I slung his arm over my shoulder and I tried to help him into the house. He staggered along as I brought him to the couch and set him down slowly. There were deep gashes across his arms and chest. I’ll go get some bandages, I reassured him, walking toward the bathroom.

How did he find me? Was he even looking for me? What happened to him? A million thoughts rushed through my head as I tore apart the bathroom for a first aid kit. I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and flipped it open, punching in the first phone number I’d memorized as a child: 911.

I paused, my thumb hovering over the Send button. I heard another groan from the other side of the house. Although my head screamed to call the police, something else told me to wait. The police could just pick him up once he’d had some rest if he really was a psychopath. I slipped the phone back into my pocket and searched through the cupboards for antiseptic. I pulled a first aid kit out of the top drawer. I’ll just ask him what’s going on later, I decided as I rushed back to the living room.

The boy lay across the couch, his eyes shut. My heart skipped a beat. With his ghostly pallor and the dark pool of blood that was now staining the sofa, he looked almost dead.

Hold on a sec, I said as I opened up the kit and pulled out a bottle of disinfectant. I guess I don’t need to tell you that this might sting, I said, smiling lightly. He forced a grimace in reply, but stayed silent as I tried to help him.

His black T-shirt was soaked with blood, and I frowned, trying to wipe the dark fabric as gently as I could with a cotton swab. For that matter, the only thing