The rooftop garden existed in a pocket of perpetual twilight, a living contradiction to the dawn bleeding over the city below. Vines of bioluminescent ivy coiled around obsidian trellises, their leaves pulsing in slow, hypnotic waves—indigo, violet, crimson—like the heartbeat of something vast and ancient. The air tasted of crushed night-blooming cereus and ozone, thick enough to chew. Three moons hung low, bloated and watchful, their light fracturing through a canopy of crystal petals that chimed softly in the wind.
Arya's bare feet found the path of black glass that spiraled upward from the dorm's highest turret. Each step left a faint imprint of frost—Liora's parting gift still clinging to her skin like a lover's teeth marks. The bikini had reformed into Taker Uniform V4: a backless corset of midnight silk laced with silver runes, the cups barely containing her newly enhanced curves. The skirt was a scandal—two panels of fabric that parted with every stride, revealing the garter runes glowing against her thighs. The brand above her heart pulsed in time with her clit, a second heartbeat that whispered hurry.
[PRIVATE MESSAGE FROM ALEXANDER NICHOLAS]
[ROOFTOP GARDEN. NORTHWEST CORNER. COME ALONE.]
[TIMER: 00:04:12 REMAINING UNTIL MIDNIGHT QUEST DEADLINE]
She crested the final stair and stepped into the garden proper. The temperature plummeted ten degrees; her breath plumed white. Frost glittered on the leaves, but the flowers themselves burned—literal flames of blue and gold licking from their centers without consuming the petals. A low stone wall ringed the space, offering a vertiginous view of Elyssara's spires and the distant flicker of dragonfire on the horizon.
Alexander waited beneath an arch of living ice.
He had shed the academy tunic entirely. Moonlight carved shadows across the planes of his chest, the runes there now dormant but still glowing faintly, like embers under ash. His trousers rode low on his hips, belt unbuckled, the top button undone as if he'd started undressing and thought better of it. Or worse. His hair—black as sin—was tousled, one lock falling over eyes the color of a storm about to break.
He didn't speak at first. Just looked at her. The weight of it pinned Arya in place more effectively than Liora's frost chains.
"You came," he said finally, voice rough. "Thought the ice bitch might've frozen your feet to the floor."
Arya's laugh came out shaky. "She tried. I melted."
His gaze dropped to the brand, then lower, lingering on the way the corset strained with every breath. "I felt it," he said. "Your level jump. Like a hook in my ribs." He took one step closer. "What the hell are you, Arya Allison?"
The question wasn't rhetorical. Telepathy flared unbidden—his thoughts a chaotic spill:
—smells like frost and sex—
—want to taste the brand—
—if I touch her now I won't stop—
She closed the distance before courage failed. The glass path was warm beneath her soles now, heated by some spell tied to proximity. "I'm the girl who moaned your name in front of three hundred people," she said. "And lived."
Alexander's hand rose, slow enough that she could have dodged. She didn't. His thumb brushed the brand—gentle, reverent. The contact sparked; the runes flared white-hot. Arya gasped, knees buckling. He caught her around the waist, palm splayed against the bare skin of her lower back.
"Easy," he murmured. "The garden's warded. No one hears us. No one sees." His other hand cupped her jaw, tilting her face to the moonlight. "But I need to know—did she hurt you?"
The tenderness in his voice cracked something open in her chest. "Yes," Arya whispered. "And no. It's… complicated."
He understood. Of course he did. Givers and Takers were two sides of the same blade. "Show me."
She took his hand and guided it lower, over the corset's lacing, to the frostbite still blooming across her ribs—delicate lace patterns of blue and violet where Liora's ice had kissed too deep. Alexander's jaw clenched. The runes on his chest ignited, casting stark shadows.
"I'll kill her," he said, conversational.
"No." Arya pressed her forehead to his. "You'll help me beat her. Different thing."
A humorless smile tugged at his mouth. "You're already level eight. Two hours ago you were one. How?"
"Pain converts to pleasure. Pleasure converts to levels. The system likes efficiency." She shrugged, the motion making the corset creak ominously. "Also, I think it's a sadist."
Alexander laughed—startled, genuine. The sound rolled through her like thunder. "Gods. You're going to destroy this place."
"Starting with you," she said, and kissed him.
It wasn't the controlled, thirty-second performance from class. This was messy, desperate—teeth clacking, tongues sliding, her hands fisting in his hair while his gripped her ass hard enough to bruise. The garden responded: vines unfurled from the trellises, curling around their ankles like curious snakes. Flowers flared brighter, flames licking higher. Somewhere, a night bird screamed.
He backed her against the stone wall, the city sprawling dizzyingly below. The height should've terrified her. Instead, it thrilled. Alexander's mouth moved to her throat, teeth scraping the brand. The runes pulsed; pleasure spiked so sharply she saw stars.
[TRAIT ACTIVATED: LIP SERVICE – STEALING 1% MANA]
[ALEXANDER → TEMPORARY DEBUFF: MANA -1%]
He growled against her skin. "Cheater."
"Winner," she corrected, and sank to her knees.
The glass path was warm, almost hot. Alexander's breath hitched as she tugged his trousers lower. He was already hard, thick and flushed, a bead of precome glistening at the tip. Arya licked it away, slow, savoring the salt and the way his thighs trembled. His hand tangled in her hair—not guiding, just anchoring.
She took him in deeper, lips stretching, tongue tracing the vein along the underside. The garden's magic amplified every sensation: the scrape of his nails against her scalp, the velvet heat of him against her tongue, the way his hips jerked when she hummed. Telepathy flooded her with his pleasure—raw, unfiltered, a feedback loop that made her clit throb in time with his pulse.
Above them, the vines tightened, forming a living canopy. Petals rained down—soft, warm, smelling of sex and summer. One landed on Alexander's shoulder; he brushed it away like a distraction.
"Arya," he rasped. "Look at me."
She did, eyes watering, lips swollen around him. The vulnerability in his gaze undid her more than any touch. He was hers in this moment—completely.
He pulled her up before he finished, spinning her to face the wall. The stone was cool against her cheek. His hands were everywhere—unlacing the corset with frantic efficiency, palming her breasts, pinching nipples until she whimpered. The skirt panels fell away, leaving her bare from the waist down except for the garters.
"Tell me to stop," he said against her ear, cock sliding between her thighs, not entering, just teasing. "Say it and I will."
"Don't you dare," she panted.
He entered her in one slow, relentless thrust.
The stretch burned—so good, so much. She cried out, the sound swallowed by the garden's magic. Alexander stilled, letting her adjust, one hand splayed over her stomach, the other bracing against the wall. The runes on his chest flared again, syncing with her brand in a feedback loop of light and heat.
Then he moved.
Each thrust was deliberate, deep, grinding against that spot inside that made her vision blur. The vines responded, curling around her wrists, holding her spread for him. Petals stuck to their sweat-slick skin. The moons above seemed to pulse in time with their rhythm.
Arya's climax hit like a tidal wave—sudden, devastating. She clenched around him, nails digging into the stone, a wordless scream tearing from her throat. The system sang.
[LEVEL UP! ARYA → LEVEL 12]
[TRAIT UNLOCKED: ORGASM RESONANCE – PARTNER GAINS +1 LEVEL ON COMPLETION]
[ALEXANDER → LEVEL 9 (TEMPORARY)]
[BEAUTY: 115 → 125 (CORSET SHATTERED)]
The corset exploded into silk confetti. Alexander followed her over seconds later, burying himself deep, groaning her name like a prayer. The runes on his chest blazed white, then dimmed. The vines released them; petals drifted down like snow.
They slid to the glass path together, limbs tangled, breathing ragged. The garden's magic receded, leaving only the scent of crushed flowers and sex. Alexander tucked her against his chest, fingers tracing lazy circles on her back.
"Midnight quest?" he asked, voice hoarse.
"Completed," she murmured. "With interest."
He chuckled, the sound rumbling through her. "Liora's going to lose her mind."
"Let her." Arya tilted her head to study him. "You said you felt my level jump. How?"
"Givers and Takers… we're linked. The stronger you get, the more it pulls at us. Like gravity." He brushed a strand of hair from her face. "You're a black hole, Arya. And I'm already falling."
The honesty in his voice scared her more than any beast. She kissed him instead of answering—soft, slow, tasting herself on his tongue.
A distant bell tolled once. Beast Theory in thirty minutes. Reality intruded.
Alexander helped her stand, conjuring a new uniform with a snap of his fingers: Taker Uniform V5—a sleeveless catsuit of liquid obsidian that hugged every curve, strategic cutouts framing the brand and the swell of her hips. The garters remained, now glowing faintly.
"Better armor," he said. "Liora's not the only one who plays dirty."
Arya smoothed the fabric, feeling the system's approval hum through it. "Walk me to class?"
He offered his arm like a gentleman, utterly at odds with the man who'd just fucked her against a wall. "Try and stop me."
As they descended the spiral path, the garden sealed behind them—vines knitting together, petals dissolving into light. But the brand on Arya's chest burned warmer than ever, and somewhere in the dorm below, Liora's ice was already cracking.
[ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: FIRST ROOFTOP CONQUEST]
[REWARD: +1 CHARM | RUMOR MILL ACTIVATED]
[NEW QUEST: SURVIVE BEAST THEORY WITHOUT MOANING ALEXANDER'S NAME]
[DIFFICULTY: HARD]
Arya grinned.
Challenge accepted.