Hey Everyone,
So this is the completely edited version of
So, I'm Not a Vampire?
Thank you searchingforperfection for helping me edit the entire So I'm Not a Vampire? novellette. All future stories I post on Lit are stories that will not be published. If you have questions, concerns, or just want to say hi, feel free to message me.
-Rosi
***
Chapter Four: I Know I Am But What Are You
I had a tick in my leg. It was probably because I'd been bouncing my leg up and down for the last few minutes in irritation. I think I had a charley horse, too, because the sucker hurt; but it didn't look like it was going to get any better unless Bane finally started speaking.
For over a freaking hour, we'd been sitting in a cute restaurant that reeked of delicious foods I couldn't eat anymore. It wasn't anywhere near my university, or even near our hotel. After I'd showered and dressed, Bane had declared that we were leaving—didn't take a genius to know that. Except the man hadn't just meant going out to Starbucks, or even a nearby diner. Oh no, he meant out of state. I'd climbed in the passenger side of his sports car, run my hand reverently over the glossy black interior, and then we'd sped off. For a guy who claimed I wasn't a vampire, he took a lot of liberties with my life in that five-hour car ride. I mean, a
lot
, considering it would take a normal, smart person nine hours to drive from Burlington, Vermont to Washington, D.C.
A few cops even pulled us over and told Bane he was going well over one hundred miles per hour.
Well over
. What did that even mean? I didn't ask, because, well, I'd just been happy that we'd stopped and I wasn't in crash position. It was no wonder I'd thought I was going to die as he twisted and curved around the mountainsides.
Of course, instead of getting a ticket or getting arrested, Bane just told the cop that we were going the speed limit and that the officer just needed to get back in his car and leave. And guess what the cop did? He freaking left. Got in his little paddy wagon and sedately rumbled on down the road while Bane sped off at the same speed, a smirk on his lips.
This happened too many times for me to count.
So, after a few hours of death-defying driving, now we were in D.C., seated at a place called Le Pain Quotidien near the Eastern Market Metro. He had a glass of red wine in front of him, there was a delicious smelling bread basket between us, and my leg was shaking the table.
Bane looked over the rim of his wine glass at me and raised a brow. "Something wrong?"
I bit the inside of my cheek. "Really? That's your first question?" I tapped my chin and looked around the deserted restaurant, with its turned-over chairs and two blank-faced waiters standing in a corner.
"Hmm, I don't know, Bane. Maybe it's the fact that it's three hours past closing, you're forcing those poor waiters to stay here, and you took a
hellavalotta
liberty with my life today."
Bane put the glass down and regarded me curiously. "I don't really see a problem,
habibi
."
My knee hit the table and pain flashed through me. "Shit!" The guy was going to drive me into an early grave with his bullshit mysterious ways.
"Careful there."
I snapped my eyes up to his and noticed a subtle shift in his irises. It wasn't like his eyes glowed green or gold or anything, but red flakes did meld with the brown in a sort of paint-bleeding-onto-a-canvas type of way.
"It means I'm hungry." His smile was predatory at best, and I swear his eyes lingered on my neck. "They'll turn completely red when I'm at the end of my rope."
I waved to the waiters still standing like statues in the corner. "There's dinner. I'm not on the menu."
Hey, I wasn't about to become meat for a hungry vamp. Selfish I may be, but stupid I was not.
He threw his head back and laughed, the sort of laugh that made me think all naughty types of thoughts that I knew he could hear. Damn his mind reading! I'd need to wear one of those foil hats.
"Won't help."
I sighed and reached for a piece of bread, too hungry to go back to sucking the red off candy. "Can we get on with it? You said you'd tell me what I am. So, tell me."
I jammed the piece of bread in my mouth and paused when the flavors hit my tongue. Maybe it was the fact that I hadn't eaten in more than twenty-four hours, but the bread was practically orgasmic.
He picked up his wine and downed it in one fluid gulp. "That's not what I said, Peaches."
I paused mid-reach for another piece of bread and some sort of nut butter. My voice dropped so low I sounded like a dude. "What do you mean?"
"Simply?" He beckoned one of the waiters over with his finger and asked for a to-go bag for the bread, and whatever they could whip up in the kitchen for me. My knee started jumping again before he turned back around. "I have no clue what you are. You are a mystery."