The Void Bunny

"No way," I squeaked, pointing to his shirt. "Those are—they're the Shadowmarks for the Thieves Guild!"

"And you're wearing a dragon shout," he replied, grinning. "What are you, some kind of nerd?"

We were silent for a second, then our eyes met... and we burst into laughter. He held out his hand for a handshake, and I took it. The warmth sent heat blooming to my cheeks.

"Ben," I said breathlessly, letting go of his hand after just one shake.

"It's nice to meet you, Kindra."

At that moment (and forgive me if I die halfway through this sentence), my stomach grumbled so loudly that anyone within three feet would've been able to hear it. I covered the worst of it with a forced, panicked laugh. I thought I was going to die.

Ben rubbed his belly, smacked his lips, and then announced, "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry as fuck."

I laughed, but it wasn't forced this time. "Trashcan nachos?"

"Trashcan nachos," he agreed, and gestured to the doors. "Shall we?"

—

When we stepped out of the hotel, there was a black Bentley waiting for us. The driver was standing by the door to hold it open for us.

"This is our Uber," Ben said, and walked over to the driver, and shook his hand. "Thanks for waiting."

"Uber?" I repeated skeptically as the driver opened the back passenger door for me.

"Uber Lux," Ben said, looking a little embarrassed. "I thought you'd like a comfortable ride after your flight."

Any other girl might've been excited with the prospect of being a little spoiled, but all I could think was that I wasn't anybody special. I was just Kindra from Davenport, the girl who'd come from nothing and was still nothing, and he was the guy behind Moondusk Hollow, which I'd read had sold five million copies during pre-orders alone. That meant that he was likely a millionaire, and I was a girl who was lucky to have $16,000 in my PayPal—$16,000 of his money. The imbalance of class made me extremely uncomfortable, but what was I supposed to do? Tell him to get lost because I didn't like him ordering an Uber Lux?

Get over yourself, Kindra.

"I—thank you," I said, getting into the car. I turned my head to hide my flaming cheeks as Ben went around the car and got in from the other side. We buckled in, and then we were off, taking a slow drive down the Strip. The streets were jam-packed with cars and people. Traffic was slow, which meant that I would have to talk to Ben to fill the silence.

"Did you fly in too?" I asked.

"I drove, actually."

"You drove, but you called an Uber?" I said, lifting an eyebrow.

Ben shrugged. "I didn't want to deal with parking."

"Or you didn't want to deal with having to be sober for the rest of the night," I said, narrowing my eyes suspiciously.

"Sobriety is not a part of my vodkabulary," he said very seriously.

"I heard if you drink too much it's likely tequil-ya," I replied, dead-pan.

The driver snorted, covering it with a cough, and that made us laugh. The driver blushed, bringing the car to a slow stop in front of the LINQ.

"Restaurant's on the side," Ben said. "Sit tight, I'll get your door."

"Not necessary," I said, opening the door myself. I stepped out into the cold desert night air and shivered. The lights of Vegas were in my eyes, but they were nothing compared to the light in Ben's eyes when he walked around the car and approached me. His green eyes were so bright that they could've powered all of Las Vegas. They seemed to glimmer as he gestured the way toward the restaurant.

"This is kind of surreal," he said as we walked side-by-side. "I've been watching your streams for months. Never thought I'd actually get the opportunity to meet you."

"Months?"

"Yeah. I was looking for some gameplay streams of Stardew Valley some months ago, and you were the only person playing at four in the morning that wasn't some dude surrounded by Diet Cokes and Cheeto wrappers. I clicked mostly out of curiosity and stayed because you were so real. I think you were telling a story about—ah, what was it..." He snapped his fingers. "Got it! You were telling your viewers about the time you were kicked out of a bakery in Little Armenia for cussing out a guy."

"He looked like my dad from behind," I said. "I think it was at that moment that I realized how angry I am with my father. Like, I've been idolizing him, but he was an asshole for leaving his family like he did."

"Your Dad's out in East Hollywood?" Ben asked.

"I don't know," I said, shrugging. "It's where I thought he'd be, but I've been going around Little Armenia and I haven't seen him in the four years I've been in East Hollywood. It's kind of stupid, really. Who knows if I would even recognize him if I saw him? I was only six when he walked out."

"It's not stupid."

I looked up at Ben, craning my neck to look into his eyes. "You're really nice for a guy that isn't trying to get into my pants."

He laughed, making me grin. We approached the restaurant and he held the door open for me. We were blasted with loud music and voices. Ben asked for a table for two, and then after a brief wait where Ben and I chatted about the music playing in the restaurant, we were seated. The waitress came quickly, took our drink orders (beers, duh) and we put in an immediate order for the trashcan nachos.

"Beer is all empty calories, but I don't really care," I said, drinking down a few gulps after we'd gotten our drinks. "I didn't come here to eat healthy."

"Me neither," Ben said, and he drank his beer in one go.

"Skills."

"I know," he agreed. "Years of practice."

I gave him a slow clap, making him laugh.

"So, where's your brother?" I asked.

"He's at our aunt's house. She's... something else."

"What's 'something else'?"

"She thinks me raising Jake is a bad idea. She was his guardian for years until I took her to court and got custody. She's been salty ever since."

"I bet he's happy with you," I offered. "I wish I'd had an older brother to take me when I was younger. My mom hated me."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ben said, looking genuinely saddened. "You deserved better."

I looked down at my lap. "I got out of there the day I turned eighteen. Just got on my motorcycle and rode down the coast to find my dad. I had nothing but my motorcycle when I moved down to East Hollywood."

"You ride?" Ben asked, surprised.

I looked up and shrugged. "I know most people think it's dangerous, but riding is a release for me. It keeps me sane."

"I wasn't going to say that. I used to ride too. I stopped after I got custody of Jake. It just wasn't worth the risk anymore."

I smiled. "What'd you ride? Let me guess—sport?"

"Cruiser, actually," he said, grinning. "I took a lot of long rides. Preferred the comfort, I guess."

"I ride a—"

"Sport, for sure."

I laughed. "Harley 750."

"Street? Yeah, I can see that. You're—well, not exactly short, but you are kind of small."

"Compared to you maybe," I replied without missing a beat. "You're tall as a troll."

"Thanks," he said with a snort. "That's what I really need. A hot girl calling me a troll."

"You think I'm hot?"

One side of his mouth lifted in a smile. "Hottest thing I've ever seen."

I blushed. "You're full of shit."

"You are," he said. "I know you're more than aware of how attractive you are."

"I mean, I know I'm pretty—"

"You're beautiful, Kindra."

I hooked a lock of hair behind my ear just for something to do. This was—fuck, how was I supposed to respond to this? He was pelting me with compliments, and I couldn't handle them. They were getting my hopes up, and I knew how dangerous that was. He didn't have time for a relationship... didn't have time for me.

"Here you guys go," the waitress said, bringing us a large plate with the trashcan nachos. Gently, she lifted the bucket handle on the side, and a tower of nachos appeared. I was salivating.

"Another round?" she asked, taking our empty beer bottles.

"Please," Ben said, smiling. The waitress looked momentarily dazed, then snapped out of it and slithered away in—shame? I didn't laugh at her; I totally understood the kind of effect a guy like Ben might have on a woman. He was hot, like stupidly hot, and it didn't hurt that he was kind. Kindness went a long way in the service industry.

Someone else dropped off our beers while we were digging into the nachos.

"Cheers," Ben said, and we clinked our glasses.

"Holy shit, this is so good," I said with a moan, closing my eyes for a second as I ate a particularly cheesy chip.

Ben's jaw tensed, his nostrils flaring. Had it been my moan?

"Want to go to the Numb bar and get a couple of those yard drinks and walk down the Strip?" I asked.

He nodded, seeming to shake himself out of it, and smiled. "Sounds like a plan."

We ate our nachos, ordered a burger to split, and then Ben insisted on taking care of the bill. I hesitated but decided I'd get him for the yard drink and agreed. As we stepped out of the restaurant, I shivered. Neither of us had thought to bring a jacket.

"You cold?" Ben asked.

"A little," I admitted. I was going to suggest that we go to one of those stupid souvenir shops and buy an overpriced Las Vegas jacket, but then he put an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close to his warm body, and I decided to ax the idea. This was so much better. His body was almost rigid as we walked to Numb, and I realized that he was nervous, just like me.

"This is nice," I said, looking up at his face. He looked down and smiled.

"Is it okay with you?" he asked.

"More than okay. I-I like it." My cheeks burned, but I'd said it and I couldn't take it back now.

"I do too," he said.

I took in the scent of his spicy aftershave, and it was so delicious that I wished I could kiss his jaw—maybe even lick it. I was being stupid, of course. Even if he wanted me, he wouldn't take me.

We got to Numb and I ordered two drinks, which came in those yard-long souvenir cups. Ben didn't fight me when I insisted on paying, and I liked that about him. He respected me enough to let me do what I wanted to do. I was used to fighting guys for the bill, and I was fucking sick of it. Being pretty didn't make me incapable of paying for drinks.

Ben slung an arm over my shoulder as we got back to the sidewalk. "So, which direction do we go?"

I felt the heat radiate from his body. "Um, I know everything is located down in the direction of the Bellagio, but I kind of want to go to Circus Circus. I have a lot of memories there. I mean, yeah, it's run-down and infested with smokers, but I still kind of miss it."

"Circus Circus it is," Ben said, giving me a bright smile. "Lead the way."

We drank as we walked, stepping around people, taking in the sights and sounds. It was popping on a Friday night, and it didn't hurt that it was summer. It was packed, even on the sidewalk. Before we even got to our destination, we stopped at another bar for a refill. Two yards down my throat, along with two beers from dinner, and I was starting to really feel the alcohol. I stumbled, and Ben steadied me.

"Should we stop at Treasure Island for a bit?" Ben asked.

"That sounds like a good idea," I said. I had to pee, and I was pretty sure that a little stop at the casino was going to make the night even more fun.

Ben checked his watch. "We just missed Mystère by forty minutes."

"That's too bad," I said. "I like that show. Cirque du Soleil is always fun."

We walked into Treasure Island and I made a beeline for the closest restrooms. After I'd relieved myself, I stepped out and found Ben waiting just where I'd left him. He was standing right outside of the restroom, holding our yard cups.

"Slots?" I suggested.

"Hell yes."

We ditched the yard cups after finishing the last of the alcohol and then went to find some slot machines. On our way there, a waitress who was walking with a tray full of drinks popped out of a side room and—walked right into me. I yelped in surprise as ice and liquid went flying in my face and down my shirt, bra, and to my jeans and panties.

"Oh my god!" the waitress cried, looking mortified. "I am so sorry! Let me get my manager."

I stood there, shivering like crazy.

"I'm sorry," Ben said, slinging his arm over my shoulder again. "That should have been me. You're already so cold."

"It's okay," I said. "Maybe we'll get comped something cool."

The manager appeared with the waitress and tried offering us dinner coupons, but Ben stepped in and mentioned that there was no way I could walk around with wet clothes and sticky drinks all over my body.

"Okay, how about this: we'll comp you a room for the night, and do your laundry for you. That should give you the opportunity to shower and you'll get your clothes back freshly laundered within the hour."

Ben turned to me. "That okay with you?"

"Sure," I said. It would be nice to be able to wash off and get my clothes cleaned.

The waitress got us more drinks as we waited for the manager to go arrange our room and the laundry service. As I drank, I felt the alcohol really hit me—properly this time. I was drunk.

Ben took the keycard from the manager when he returned, and we made our way to the elevators. As we walked, Ben slipped his hand into mine. He was warm and it was electrifying. My head swam, and I wondered if he was as drunk as me. He wasn't stumbling around like I was, but he did slur his words when he talked.

As we stepped into the elevator, we laughed. What a fucking night.

"The room is on the thirty-first floor," Ben said slowly, clearly drunk as hell.

"Wow, I look like shit," I said, looking at my reflection on the elevator doors. I was soaked from the drinks.

Ben walked closer to me and hooked a lock of sticky hair behind my ear, smiling down at me. "You look fucking perfect."

My stomach clenched. I put my hand on his chest, pressing down so I could feel his heartbeat. It was thumping like mad—just like mine.

"I'm kind of terrified of you," he whispered.

"I'm terrified too," I said breathlessly.

"God, you're—fuck," he said, and walked me back against the elevator wall. I looked up at him, confused, and then he was—kissing me. I whimpered and threw my arms around his neck, pulling him down closer, deepening the kiss. The heat was even on his lips, transferring all that delicious warmth. I opened my mouth to taste him, and our mouths moved together, our tongues sliding. I tasted the burn of alcohol on his tongue, almost as if it could make me even more drunk than I already was.

And all I could think was how badly I'd wanted this.

The elevator dinged, and we broke apart. Ben took my hand, and we raced to the hotel room. He swiped the keycard and the door unlocked, and as it did, I took his face in my hands and pulled him in for another kiss. We fell into the room together, and in seconds, we were tearing our clothes off, kissing hungrily as we made our way to the bed.

As we pulled apart to take our shirts off, I said, "Alcohol is really bad for my legs."

He looked at me, his lips swollen from the kisses. "Why? Do they swell?"

"No," I said, unsnapping my bra. "They spread."

He groaned and was just about to reach for me when there was a knock on the door.

"Laundry service!"

Ben helped me out of my jeans, and ripped my panties down, his eyes lingering for a second on my pussy, and then my bare tits. I lay back in the bed, leaning up on my elbows, and smiled.

"Fuck, you're hot," he hissed, grabbing my clothes. He went to the door, opened it a crack, and passed the clothes to the laundry service man. He handed him a ticket, which Ben stuffed in the pockets of his jeans right before he slid them off.

"Nice boxers," I said, giggling.

"What, these?" He did a little twirl to show them off.

Batman boxers. They matched my shoes.

The room was still swimming, and I was suddenly struggling to keep my eyes open. Fuck.

Ben crawled over the bed, kicking off his boxers as he did. I stared at his erect cock. It was—very thick. A nice fat cock. My favorite.

"I-I want you so bad," I said with a whimper.

"I know. I want you too," he said, sliding up and caging me into the bed with his arms. I stared at him, at his flat stomach and trim waist, at those rippling forearms and wide, defined shoulders. My pussy was so fucking soaked from the heated kisses—and this. Him.

He kissed me again, and I felt lightheaded. I lost my breath, as if it had been roped out of my lungs.

"Let's see if you're ready for me," he said huskily. I gasped when his fingers brushed my pussy, and then he was slipping them between the folds, stroking up and down, making me moan.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned. "You're so wet."

"Wet," I said, giggling. "I-I'm soaked for y-you."

Ben paused, and I saw panic cross his eyes. He made a decision in those few seconds. "We can't do this."

"Wh-What?" I slurred. "What do you mean?"

"You're drunk out of your mind, Kindra."

"S-So the fuck what?"

He sat back, frowning. "This is—wrong. This isn't the way I want to do this."

"So y-you're admitting you do w-want to do this?"

"Kindra," he said with a sigh. "I want to—like so badly... but we can't."

"Are you m-married or something?" I asked, tears welling up in my eyes.

He looked pained. "Of course not, Kindra. I told you—it's complicated."

I sat up and covered my breasts, my cheeks flaming. "Fine," I said. "I-I'm going to go sh-shower, if you don't mind."

"I'm sorry," he said, anguished.

"S'okay," I said, getting up. I went to the bathroom, closed the door, and locked it. I'd been able to hold in the tears out there, but now I couldn't. This fucking hurt. I ran the water, got into the shower, and cried my fucking eyes out.

—

I searched for Mark Amiryan, the man whose spirit, complexion, and dark hair I'd inherited—and nothing else; not even his last name. I was eighteen when I'd stepped into Little Armenia, hoping I'd find him in a bakery so he could take me in and make up for all the years lost. The delicious smells of freshly-baked goods filled my senses, and I'd walked around, looking for his face, hoping against all odds that I'd still recognize him. Everywhere I turned, there were men that could have been him, but none of them had his dazzling smile or deep, rumbling laugh. I knew I should have asked around, but I hadn't been able to. Maybe there was a part of me that hadn't actually wanted to find him... maybe, there was a part of me that was afraid he'd refuse to meet me. The best plan was to simply bump into him, to throw my arms around him and tell him that I loved him. How could you turn away from that? He wouldn't be able to just walk away again, not if he saw my face and the hurt it caused me.

That was perhaps why he'd left without ever saying goodbye.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, Ben was gone. I guess it shouldn't have surprised me; men had a history of walking out of my life... but it still hurt like hell. I took in a deep breath, shelved away my thoughts of Ben, and decided to carry on with my life. I didn't need to chase a guy who didn't want me, so I dried my hair, my body, and my tears.

His loss.

I kept myself wrapped in a towel and got into bed, turning on the TV while I waited for my clothes to be returned by the laundry service. I closed my eyes, trembling, and got under the covers to get warm. I burrowed myself just like I did at home, and it was comforting, almost like the bed was a warm embrace. I almost dozed off when the door opened.

I sat upright, terrified.

"It's me." Ben appeared from behind the door, closing it as he stepped in. "Are you decent?"