The Bride of Lord Motte - Version 2 (Rewrite)

Chapter 7

"I-I am..." I look down to my lap. "May I think it over after I eat?" I plead, eyeing down the burger.

"Of course. I'm feeling patient today. After all, I do regret how we met. I greet most girls calmly at the door." He remarks casually and digs in himself.

We eat in silence then while I desperately think of an interesting fact about myself that would make me desirable. I do live an interesting life, yes, but not a life that puts me in a presentable light.

Though...I trail off in deep thought while Jasmine comes to mind. Jasmine was the perfect kind of girl. She likely had straight A's, a good family, good parents, a young youthful heart, and genuine kindness oozing out of her like sickly sweet syrup. Yet, he didn't find her to be the one. What could he possibly have found wrong with her?

Perhaps, he found her voice annoying. That's a large possibility. She isn't one for worthwhile conversation either. Or...maybe she cried and begged for her life the entire time. I could see her doing that as well. She would have been a pitiful victim, not a match for a Vampire.

He doesn't want a good girl. That much is obvious.

He wants someone rotten.

I swallow the last bite of the burger and attack the fries at an appropriate pace. I secretly watch him as he finishes even slower than I. For once, he's also not paying attention to me whatsoever. I consider making a run for it but push away the foolish thought, and instead think of my words carefully.

"Well, I have five different identities." I burst out.

He looks up immediately, grinning in surprise. "Oh, well that's a new one." He waits impatiently for my next words. "Well, why is that?"

"I hate the system," I responded simply. "It's a terrible excuse for pulling such a risky trick, but I don't care. I detest the idea of someone searching up my name in a police station and finding everything they want about me. It never used to be that way."

"Yes, it never used to be that way." He comments and nods for me to continue. "What is your real name? The last girl called you Sarah."

"Do you even remember the last girls' name?" I interrupt.

"No, we never got around to that through her incessant screaming and complaining." He crosses his arms and nods towards me again.

"Oh, understandable." As disgusted as it makes me, I make an attempt to agree with him.

He instantly grins from ear to ear.

I drop my head and groan to myself. "My name is Cynthia. Cynthia Long."

"Good, Cynthia. So, she wasn't really your friend at all then? How did you even know her?"

"I met her at the hotel down the road, where I'm sure they'll be noticing my absence very soon." I reply sharply.

"Even if that useless motel does call the police, I've been doing this for centuries and the law enforcement has never caught me, Cynthia. Don't even hope for it." He replies cockily.

I frown. "Fair enough. You are a master of your own trade. I don't expect you're inexperienced with dealing with all matters of attempted rescue."

He smirks. "I suppose one could say that. Now, are you going to tell me more and actually open up, or will I have to pry it out of you?"

It was a light-hearted joke, but my heart pounds nevertheless.

"I used to dream of you. Why?" I ask softly.

"It is part of the curse." He responds slowly.

"What is the curse?"

"Stop misdirecting the conversation. This isn't about me." He replies sternly. "I'm just here to listen to you talk. So talk."