Alright, so touching mysterious glowing artifacts during supernatural thunderstorms? Solid ten out of ten, would not recommend.
The white light was everywhere. Not like the flash of lightning or the glare of headlights. This was 'inside' me, burning through my veins like liquid fire. I couldn't see, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Just pure searing agony and the feeling that something fundamental about reality was coming apart at the seams.
Then I heard it crack.
Not a sound, exactly. More like a feeling. Like the universe itself was splitting open, reality fracturing along invisible fault lines, the obsidian amulet shattered in my hand, fragments turning to ash before they hit the ground.
The light exploded outward in a shockwave that threw me backward. I hit the floor hard enough to knock the air from my lungs, my head cracking against marble. Stars burst across my vision, mixing with the afterimage of that impossible white glare.
For a second, everything was silent. Just my ragged breathing and the distant rumble of thunder.
Then the temperature in the room plummeted.
I'm talking instant winter, the kind of cold that seizes your lungs and makes your bones ache. My breath came out in visible puffs, frost spread across the display cases in intricate patterns, ice crystals blooming like flowers.
And in the center of the room, where the amulet had been, something was forming.
Shadow and smoke and something that looked like flames but burned black instead of orange. It coalesced, taking shape, solidifying into something distinctly humanoid. Tall. Broad-shouldered. The air around it rippled with heat that somehow made the cold worse.
I scrambled backward on my elbows, my brain short-circuiting between "run" and "this can't be happening" and "oh god oh god oh god."
The shadows fell away like a discarded cloak.
Standing in the middle of the exhibit hall, looking like he'd just stepped out of a CEO photoshoot and not a literal cloud of demonic smoke, was the most unfairly attractive man I'd ever seen.
And I mean 'unfair'. Tall, easily six-three or six-four. Perfectly tailored black suit that probably cost more than my car, dark hair styled in that effortlessly perfect way that took either natural talent or a very expensive stylist. Sharp jawline, high cheekbones, the kind of face that belonged on magazine covers or ancient marble statues.
But it was the eyes that really sold the "not remotely human" vibe.
They glowed. Actual, literal glowing. Amber-red, like embers in a dying fire, flickering with an inner light that had nothing to do with the emergency lighting. When he blinked, I swear I saw flames.
He looked down at himself, flexing his fingers like he was testing out a new pair of gloves. Then those burning eyes fixed on me.
"Well," he said, and his voice was like smoke and honey and the crackle of flame. Deep, cultured, with an accent I couldn't place. "That was unexpected."
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out except a strangled wheeze.
He tilted his head, studying me with the kind of clinical interest you'd give a particularly fascinating insect. Then he sighed, and I swear the temperature dropped another ten degrees.
"You have no idea what you've done, do you?"
"I..." My voice cracked. I cleared my throat, tried again. "Who... what..."
"Articulate." He brushed imaginary dust off his sleeve. "Truly, the mortal realm sends its finest."
Okay. Okay. I could handle this.
This was fine. Just a weird dream brought on by bad champagne and corporate-induced stress. Any second now I'd wake up in my apartment, Mrs. Chen's K-drama blasting through the walls, everything normal and boring and definitely not involving impossibly hot men materializing from cursed jewelry.
I pinched myself. Hard.
"That's not going to help," the man said, sounding almost amused. "This is very much happening."
He took a step toward me, I scrambled further backward until my shoulders hit a display case.
"Stay back!" My hand shot out in what was probably meant to be a threatening gesture but came off more like a panicked flail. "I... I'll call security!"
"Security." He said it like I'd suggested calling the tooth fairy. "Yes, I'm sure they'd be very helpful against..." He paused, frowning. "Actually, what do mortals even know about containing infernal entities these days? I've been somewhat out of touch."
"Infernal. You mean like... demon?" The word felt ridiculous coming out of my mouth. "You're a demon."
"Was that a question or a statement?" He moved closer, and I noticed he didn't walk so much as glide. Predatory. Graceful. Wrong. "Though I suppose 'demon' is the crude term your kind would use, I prefer 'Azryth Valek,' but we rarely get what we prefer, do we?"
Valek.
As in Valek Industries. As in the building we were currently in.
"You're... the CEO?"
"Among other things." Another step, close enough now that I could smell him, something like burnt cedar and expensive cologne. "And you are the unfortunate mortal who just shattered five centuries of carefully maintained bindings."
"I didn't... I mean, I just touched..."
"Yes, I'm aware." His eyes flickered, actual flames dancing in his irises. "Believe me, I felt it. Rather difficult to miss the sensation of one's prison exploding."
Prison. The amulet had been a prison, and I'd just let out whatever had been locked inside.
This was bad. This was very, very bad.
"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to... I'll just..." I gestured vaguely toward the door. "I'll go. Pretend this never happened, we can both just..."
"You're not going anywhere."
The temperature plummeted again. Ice spread across the floor between us, intricate fractals of frost.
"Here's the situation," Azryth said, his voice taking on an edge that made my survival instincts scream. "That amulet was my anchor to this realm. A very delicate, very necessary anchor, without it, my essence will eventually dissipate, taking a significant portion of this city with it when it goes. Possibly more."
I stared at him. "That sounds... bad."
"Oh, it's catastrophic." He smiled, and it was the kind of smile that probably preceded a lot of people's last moments. "For everyone involved."
"So... fix it? Put it back together?"
"Shattered infernal artifacts don't exactly come with reassembly instructions." He circled me slowly, like a shark sizing up its prey. "No, there's only one solution. I need a new anchor, a compatible vessel to bind myself to before the deterioration becomes irreversible."
The way he was looking at me made my stomach drop.
"No," I said. "Absolutely not, find someone else."
"There is no one else." He stopped directly in front of me, close enough that I had to crane my neck to meet his eyes. "The bindings require specific... qualities. Bloodline compatibility, spiritual resonance, an inherent resistance to infernal corruption." His gaze raked over me, assessing. "You have all three, apparently. Lucky you."
"I'm not... there's no way I'm..."
"Do you know what happens when an unanchored demon lord's essence destabilizes in the mortal realm?" He leaned down, bringing those burning eyes level with mine. "Reality fractures, wards collapse, every spirit, ghost, and minor demon within a hundred-mile radius goes berserk. Hospitals overflow, bodies pile up, the fabric of existence develops some very inconvenient holes."
My throat went dry. "You're bluffing."
"Am I?" He straightened, adjusting his cufflinks with infuriating casualness. "Feel free to test that theory. I'll give it three days before the first major incident, a week before full-scale supernatural catastrophe. Should be quite the show."
He was serious. Completely, terrifyingly serious.
"This is insane," I whispered. "I'm just... I'm nobody. I'm a data analyst, I analyze data. I don't... I can't..."
"And yet you did." Something flickered across his face, too quick to read. "You touched an artifact warded by seven layers of infernal bindings. Wards specifically designed to repel mortal interference, the fact that you could even perceive it, let alone make contact, means you're far from 'nobody.'"
That pull I'd felt. That hook behind my ribs. The part of me I'd buried years ago.
"I don't want this," I said, and I hated how small my voice sounded.
"Neither do I." For the first time, he sounded almost genuine. "Binding myself to a mortal is hardly my preferred solution, but it's the only solution, so unless you'd like to be responsible for the deaths of several thousand people..."
He let the sentence hang.
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him to go to hell, literally. Wanted to run screaming from this room and never look back.
But those eyes, burning with barely contained power, told me everything I needed to know. He wasn't lying, he wasn't exaggerating, this was real, and I was well and truly screwed.
"What..." I swallowed hard. "What does 'binding' mean, exactly?"
His smile was sharp enough to cut. "I'm so glad you asked."
He raised one hand, and symbols began appearing in the air around us. Not drawn, not projected. Just 'there', burning with the same amber-red light as his eyes. Ancient script that hurt to look at, twisting in patterns that made geometry cry.
"Wait," I said, panic rising. "Wait, can we talk about this? Maybe there's another..."
"Talking won't stop the deterioration." The symbols spun faster, forming a circle around us. "This binding is temporary, just enough to stabilize my essence until we can find a more... permanent solution. It won't hurt."
"That's not reassuring!"
"It will, however, tie our life forces together in a rather intimate way." He said it so casually, like he was discussing the weather. "Minor inconvenience, really."
"Minor? MINOR?"
The symbols flared brighter, I felt power building in the air, pressure mounting until my ears popped.
"This is your last chance to consent," Azryth said, and for just a second, something almost like concern crossed his face. "After this, there's no going back. Not without killing us both."
Every logical cell in my brain screamed at me to refuse, to take my chances with the apocalypse, to literally do anything except agree to magically bind myself to a demon I'd met five minutes ago.
But somewhere under the panic and terror and complete disbelief, a tiny voice whispered: 'People will die, thousands of people, because you couldn't leave well enough alone.'
I closed my eyes. Took a breath that tasted like frost and smoke.
"Fine," I said. "Do it."
"Wise choice."
Before I could change my mind, he moved. One hand cupped the back of my neck, fingers cold as ice against my skin. The other tilted my chin up.
"Wait, what are you..."
His lips crashed against mine.
And everything 'burned'.