Blackjack (A Tale Of Vegas Vampires)

Chapter 5 (Smut scene)

Author's Note: This did not absolutely take me months to write (note the friendly sarcasm).

It should've been part of chapter 4, but chapter 4 was getting too long. I think that's a much better option, and it can be skipped for anyone who wants to skip it.

Enjoy!

Final_

x.x.x

Roberto held Amethyst's hand tightly, and while she was strangely calm and mellow, led her to his bedroom. He let go of her hand as he closed the bedroom door and turned off the light, plunging them both in darkness. It wasn't an issue for him; vampires could see in the dark just as well as in daylight. He, however, knew Amethyst probably couldn't see all that well, even if some light was peeking out from the window.

He could still manage to feel her gaze in his back, waiting for him as she observed him. He removed accessories and clothing items that could prove problematic in the next minutes they would spend together: his suit jacket, his belt, his tie. He simply threw them on the floor, not bothering himself with putting them away at all. He took off his shoes and socks, left them near the door, before turning around. He took slow steps towards Amethyst as she sat at the end of his king-sized bed, waiting. She probably couldn't see herself but he could, and she was beautiful. That light pink blouse worked wonders on her figure, while that skirt hugged her hips so well it was like a second skin. He was dying for the way her black hair framed her face, hiding one piercing eye from him.

There were emotions stirring inside of him that he didn't understand, that he couldn't have control on, and in a way, it frightened him. Roberto Donatelli had no idea how many women he had had in his bed over the centuries, and seeing as he was approaching a millennium of life, he knew the number was well higher than his age. He never had emotions for most of them; for Gwenna, once, he had experienced pure need, lust, desire. Those feelings had only been for her, and he had lost them a year ago when she told him her secret, told him of the child she hid from him for more than nine centuries. During his short exile, during the first months, he had tried to find these emotions for her again; he had looked everywhere in his thousand-year-old heart. Not once did he find even the smallest trace. They had disappeared. However, he had found rage, betrayal, sadness, solitude. Yes, he had been a horrible husband. Yes, he had cheated on her during the three hundred years their marriage had lasted. Yes, he had hidden from her his business and how he was acquiring his wealth (for her protection, however). But he had always told her the truth, (as much as he could). He had always favoured her over anyone else, always dreamt of her. He thought he knew Gwenna enough to know she would tell him secrets so big. He had been wrong. So wrong.

Roberto was no saint, but he would've told her secrets like these. Or perhaps not? Did he have secrets people around him should know? Not really, and certainly not about him growing up and the events that led to the first years of his vampirism.

Roberto growled quietly; he couldn't think about Gwenna. He couldn't let all of those emotions run over him or he'd lose himself in that despair and sadness he had swum in for the past months of his exile. Roberto wished so bad to be mad. He wished so bad to be vengeful. He wished so bad to even have murderous thoughts. Nothing was coming in his mind outside of the overwhelming helplessness.

He sat down next to Amethyst, who was leaning towards him. She was so beautiful, so special. He got lost in his thoughts as he admired her, and he felt something warm on his right cheek. He looked up to see her looking at him. He could see her dark eyes and how they reflected not only his everlasting solitude, but his pain. He saw her eyes also show him so much understanding, so much comprehension. Her eyes were the only way to see what was going on in her head. Roberto couldn't read her thoughts, not because they were blocked or closed to him, but because they were incoherent. They were zigzagging, or unrelated to the situation, or confusing in a creepy way. He had had the same thing with her sister, Savannah, only much more intense. And scary. He recalled the little black bunnies jumping around in her head, with wide smiles and sharp fangs.