The night peels hours from itself, one bitter layer at a time. Rollo stares at the ceiling, not blinking, not really breathing, letting the white glow from the amulet pulse against his chest in sync with his own synthetic heartbeat. Ember's curled on the far end of the mattress, jeans and tank top still on, both katanas nested parallel to her spine like a pair of wolf pups guarding her dreams.
Except she doesn't dream.
He knows this before she says it, but she says it anyway—words grinding out of the dark like teeth on gravel.
"I don't sleep," Ember murmurs. "Not really. Not since the pit fights."
Rollo's body reacts before his mind does: his hand flexes, the violet tattoos spiking into circuits up his wrist, a pressure behind the solar plexus that feels like a held breath. He half rolls toward her, one shoulder braced, eyes slicing through the dim, clocking every twitch of her jaw, the way she keeps her knees boxed under her chin like a barricade.
He tries to think of something to say. Instead, he asks, "You were in the pits?"
She lets out a snort—no humor, just exhale. "Sold to them. By my mom. Guess even foster parents need to eat."
He sits up, chest hollow. He'd meant it as a metaphor, but her story is too raw for poetry.
Ember pushes her hair out of her face. The neon streaks catch the bedside light and throw angry colors across her cheekbones. She keeps her gaze fixed on the drywall, voice flat. "Fought for food. Fought for silence. You get good at knowing when to bleed and when to fake it."
He swallows, but the air is sour. "How long?"
She shrugs, arms tight around her shins. "Couple years, maybe less. Don't remember the birthdays. I got a rep for never tapping out. Didn't make me popular." She glances over. "You ever kill anyone?"
The question is a knife. He doesn't flinch, but he lets the silence stretch, lets her watch him struggle.
"Thought about it," he says at last. "A lot." He can't stop his hand from tracing the lines on his thigh—old tattoo, prison DIY, the only mark that hasn't turned neon or viral. "Never had the balls."
She studies him, eyes narrowing. "You're dangerous. Not like the others. You feel like someone who could kill a god and still cry after."
It's meant to be a compliment, but it lands like an accusation.
He leans back, arms behind his head, and stares through her. "You ever try crying in juvie? They take bets on who can make you do it again."
A crooked smile twitches her lips. "I'd have bet against you."
The room is small enough that their words ricochet off every wall. There's no privacy in this space. The system's always listening, Kami's presence a low-level buzz behind his thoughts, waiting for a break in the dialogue to slip her hooks in.
He wants to reach for Ember—physically, emotionally—but he's never learned to do either without leaving bruises. So he just breathes, letting the moment hang.
Ember's the one who moves first. She slides closer, the mattress dipping under her weight, and sits cross-legged beside him, both hands knotted between her knees.
"Can I ask something?" she says.
He nods, even though he's not sure he can answer.
Ember taps the side of her head. "The shadow stuff. When you do it, does it feel like someone else is in there? Like… a passenger?"
He thinks of Kami, her voice purring through his cortex, her claws in every memory. "Sometimes," he says. "Most times."
She nods, satisfied. "I got that too. After the pits, I hear things. Sometimes it's my voice, sometimes not. Tells me when to move. When to kill. I don't always like it."
He almost laughs. "Like a coach from hell."
She looks him dead in the eye, unblinking. "More like a mother that never dies."
That, he does laugh at—soft, wounded, but honest. "Messed up, isn't it?"
"The most."
They sit together, not touching, but the distance between them is smaller than air. The room is quiet, so quiet he can hear her heartbeat—racing, then slowing, then matching his. It's the first time since Kami's abduction that he's been this close to another person and not felt the urge to run or fuck or destroy.
SYSTEM MISSION DETECTED
TRAUMA BOND — Initiate first emotional sync
Reward: Kami Sync Boost + Trait Unlock
The system text flares across his vision in crisp white, but he ignores it. He's not doing this for the stat bump. He's doing it because, for once, someone in this place is more scared of themselves than of him.
Ember leans forward, arms folded over her knees, and rests her forehead against his bicep. The contact is accidental, almost, but she doesn't pull away. Her breath is hot against his skin.
"I wish it would stop," she whispers.
He doesn't say what. He just puts a hand on her hair, careful, and strokes it slow.
They stay like that for a long time.
Eventually, Ember lifts her head, lips parting, her breath coming in short little hitches. She's trembling. She leans up and kisses him, not hard, not hungry, but desperate in the way that means she needs something to hold onto. He lets her. He lets her kiss him until the sadness breaks and the need takes over, and when she pushes him back onto the mattress, he goes, no resistance.
She straddles him, knees pressed to his ribs, hands braced on his chest. For a second, she just looks down at him, eyes wide and strange, like she's never seen him before. He keeps his hands at his sides, waits.
"You can touch me," she says, voice barely a whisper.
He does, but slow. Fingers trace her thighs, then up under the hem of her shirt. Her skin is hot—so hot it's like being burned, but he doesn't pull away. She shivers, not from cold, but from nerves.
She peels off the tank, lets it fall. Her chest is pale, marked with scars: knife wounds, burns, old bruises that never faded. She's proud of them. She wants him to see.
He sits up, lips to her collarbone, and kisses every scar he can find.
Ember gasps, but doesn't stop him.
She pushes him back down and grinds against his crotch, slow and focused. He's already hard—no surprise, given the system's wiring and his own—but this time, it's different. There's no hunger in it. Just need.
She unzips his sweats, lets them drop to his knees. When she sees both cocks, her eyes flicker, a brief grin of surprise, then she laughs—a real, bright sound.
"Only you," she says, and strokes them both at once, getting used to the weight and the way they throb together.
He groans, but she shushes him. "Let me."
She rocks her hips, sliding wet against him, then lines herself up and sinks down onto the human one first, taking it slow. She's tight, but it's not a struggle—her body wants this. She sets the pace, rising and falling, letting the motion build, her hands braced on his abs. The second cock, the alien one, slides between her thighs, bumping and rubbing, slick with her own wet.
Ember moans, but the sound is broken, like every thrust punches a hole in her defenses. She rides him, but never looks away—her eyes lock on his, daring him to blink first.
He doesn't.
SYSTEM ALERT
[Kami Sync: 21% → 28%]
[Shadow Affinity: +3 → 17]
[Rizz: +2 → 11]
[Loyalty: +5 → 9]
[Trait Unlocked: Shared Pain Transfer — Take damage for bonded partner in real time.]
[Trait Unlocked: Ember Sync Link — Increases flame-based resistance and blade speed by +15% when nearby.]
Her moans get louder, then catch in her throat. He feels her climax before she admits it, the heat pulsing around him, sweat beading on her skin, arms trembling.
She buries her face in his neck, bites down to keep from screaming. He holds her, both hands on her back, nails digging into her spine.
When he cums, it's not an explosion—it's a surrender. A wave that crests and holds, then recedes with no violence, just a long, slow shaking that leaves them both gasping. The system triggers, and he can feel the upgrades in real time, the way every nerve in his body calibrates to her touch, every flicker of pain from her burning into him instead.
He's never felt so alive.
Ember collapses on top of him, still trembling, her breath hot and ragged in his ear.
"Don't go," she whispers.
He holds her, tighter than he means to, and kisses the top of her head.
Kami's voice rolls in, lazy and delighted. "Ooh... you're making her feel, not just cum. That's the good shit, babe."
He ignores her. For now.
They lie together, sweat cooling, the amulet's red pulse the only light in the room.
As Ember's breathing evens out, the system flashes one last message across his vision:
[LUST SURGE EVENT DETECTED – 24HR LIMIT ENGAGED]
He reads it, then smiles.
He's got no plans to sleep.