Lord Motte's Vampire Bride - Version 1

Lord Motte

"Stop your crying, dear." The deep voice echoed through the cell before the large wooden door was even opened. "It's not going to get you anywhere, but the afterlife." He chuckles. 

Hot anger radiates through me at his threatening comment. He thinks this is nothing but a comedic afternoon for him, doesn't he? How dare he interrupt and mock my moment of grief and self-pity!

I raise my chin defiantly and clench my jaw tightly. My eyes met with his dark ones immediately. At first, I thought they were black, just like I had always pictured them in my head and how they first appeared when they met mine in the basement...however, while the situation was just as I expected, the house, the yard, the murder, the carpeting even...Lord Motte's appearance was the only thing I had never been completely sure of. 

And, the most terrible thing above all, is that he appears just like any other man. Not a regular, modern man, of course, but a man. His eyes are not black and soulless - though I do doubt he has a soul worth a damn - but they are an amber brown. One might even consider them warm and inviting if they weren't being held hostage in his home. He had neat dark hair, and a long, oval face. I almost found myself searching for his fangs, but saw that there were none. Possibly the legend was wrong. He isn't a vampire, only an insane murderer. Possibly even a copycat of the legend, and just an insane human who's taken it upon himself to live out the myth. 

"Come on, girl. Speak. Let me hear your voice when it isn't screaming." He smiles maliciously. 

I bite my tongue and refuse, giving the best death glare I have in me. I really wish looks could kill right at this moment!

"That is if you even have a voice left after all that." He lightly chuckles. "In which case, I understand. I'll get you some water, and take us to somewhere a little bit more comfortable so that we may speak." He walks behind me and takes hold of the back of my chair. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end and my body remains still as stone. I nearly expect him to carry me, chair and all rather than freeing me, but surprisingly he does pluck me out of my restraints and throws me over his shoulder. 

I struggle against his impossibly strong arms and squeal into his shoulder all the hateful words I could think of. "You hideous bastard! How pathetic of you to imitate Lord Motte! Clearly, you've gone entirely insane if you actually believe you're him! Vampires aren't real, you idiot! Why is it that so many people are obsessed with that sorry excuse of a legend! Some lovelorn Vampire killing with a needle sword is the least terrifying thing I'd ever heard of!" 

Please, oh God, please let him be some maniac who doesn't live off of blood. There is no way this all can be true. Jasmine might have had some crazy stalker who followed her and killed her. A small, helpless girl like that likely had plenty of admirers, why not add an insane one to the mix? 

"Nonsense." The man grumbles. He hops down the steps effortlessly despite my weight and brings me to the dinner table I saw earlier, the rose still in the vase as I last saw it. 

"You know the truth." He hisses. He throws me back over his shoulder and seats me forcefully in one of the ends chairs of the gigantic table. 

I gulp loudly, my angry tears finally giving up. I stare, blank-eyed at the monster, taking in his appearance once more to see anything that hinted that he wasn't human. He has to be!

"I know the tales, but I don't lose my grip on reality any longer." I spite, with my exhausted vocal cords. 

"Any longer? There was a time that you didn't? How intriguing." He comments with a smirk. Again, he surprises me by sitting directly alongside me, allowing me to remain at the head end as if I was his superior. 

"We all have foolish moments as a child." I bite back fearlessly. The anger has taken complete control now. As long as this fool carries on pretending to be a vampire, I can carry on this attitude. He may be a murderer, but he hasn't shown any signs of wanting to kill me yet. 

Lord Motte wouldn't in this situation either. 

I wince at the thought and close my eyes to gather my wits. "Can we bypass all this foolishness and skip to the part where you let me go?" 

The man pauses. "Your skepticism is appalling, especially as I'm certain you've already noticed everything else is perfect about this mansion. Absolutely identical as you knew it would be." 

I eye him carefully. "There's no way for you to know that." 

"Well, yes there is, as it's always the same when you ladies arrive at my door." He cocks his head, eyeing me right back with a gleam in his eye. A gleam that I hated to be charmed by. Why couldn't he be hideously unlikeable? He killed Jasmine, I just have to keep remembering that, human or not.

I stay quiet as I contemplate on my next words, while he continues. "Now, the last two days have been incredibly eventful. Two girls in such short period of time? Until now, that's been unheard of!" He gawks. "Did the two of you follow each other here? Were you friends who came as a group? Or perhaps, you followed her here as you knew what would happen to her if you didn't. You seem to be clearly the more intelligent one." He smoothly observes. "Though, you do scream like a little girl. I didn't expect that to come out of your mouth."

I frown angrily as his taunts. "There's no way to prove that you are what the legend says." 

"Sure, there is." He muses. "You don't seem one for proof of words. I can show you physical proof if you like? Would you like to see me kill or drain another victim? Or should I just jump to it and kill you?" 

My eyes widen and the blood drains from my face. 

"Would that be enough proof for you?" He drawls as my vision fills with black dots.