Sunday morning started with a knock on the door.
Not unusual, except for the fact that we were in a private penthouse on the top floor of a building with approximately seven layers of security.
Nobody just 'knocked' on Azryth Valek's door.
I was in the kitchen, attempting to make coffee without burning the place down (the fancy machine was unnecessarily complicated), when I heard it. Three precise knocks, polite, almost cheerful.
Azryth emerged from his office immediately, moving with the kind of speed that suggested this was very much not normal.
"Stay there," he commanded, already heading for the door.
"What's.."
"Stay. There."
I stayed there. Mostly because the tone of his voice suggested that not staying there might result in my immediate death.
He opened the door a crack, keeping his body between me and whoever was outside. I heard voices, low and tense.
Then Azryth stepped back, and something walked into our penthouse.
I say "something" because calling it a person would be generous.
It was human-shaped. Technically. But wrong in ways that made my brain hurt to process, too-long limbs, skin that looked like it couldn't decide between gray and green, eyes that were just slightly too far apart and way too reflective.
A demon. An actual, undisguised demon.
And it was holding a box.
"Delivery for Azryth Valek," it said, and its voice sounded like gravel in a blender. "Wedding gift, from interested parties."
"Interested parties," Azryth repeated flatly. "How thoughtful."
The demon's smile revealed too many teeth. "They send their congratulations on your recent... binding, such a surprise to everyone. The great Azryth Valek, bound to a mortal." Its eyes slid to me. "Such a fragile mortal."
The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
"Leave the gift," Azryth said, his voice dangerously soft. "And go."
"Of course." The demon set the box on the entry table with exaggerated care. "Do enjoy, they spent considerable effort on its... preparation."
It left, and Azryth slammed the door hard enough to rattle the frame.
"What the hell was that?" I asked, still frozen by the coffee machine.
"A courier. Low-level, expendable." He was staring at the box like it might explode. "And a message."
"A message saying what?"
"That my binding is known, that I'm being watched, that certain parties are very interested in my new... vulnerability." He moved closer to the box, examining it without touching. "Step away from the kitchen."
"Why?"
"Because that box is either cursed, poisoned, or both, and I don't want you anywhere near it when I open it."
I stepped away from the kitchen. Quickly.
Azryth circled the box like a predator, those ember eyes flickering with actual flame. I could feel the binding responding to his tension, my own heart rate picking up in sympathy.
"Wedding gift," he muttered. "How traditional."
"You're going to open it?"
"I need to know what they sent, what they think they know." He flexed his fingers, and I saw symbols start to form in the air around his hands, the same kind of symbols from the binding. "Stand back."
I pressed myself against the far wall, which was apparently not far enough because he shot me a look.
"Further."
"I'm literally against the wall!"
"Then crouch behind the couch, I don't know what this is going to do."
I dove behind the couch like my life depended on it, which, based on his tone, it probably did.
From my position of relative safety, I watched Azryth approach the box, the symbols around his hands glowed brighter, forming a kind of shield. He reached out, lifted the lid.
Nothing happened.
For about three seconds.
Then the box 'screamed'.
Not metaphorically. It actually screamed, a high-pitched wail that felt like it was trying to shatter my eardrums and my sanity simultaneously.
Black smoke poured out, spreading fast, filling the entry area with darkness that seemed alive, it moved with purpose, reaching, grasping, searching.
Searching for me.
"Riven, DOWN!" Azryth's voice cut through the chaos.
I was already down, very down. Maximally down.
The smoke found me anyway.
One tendril separated from the main mass, snaking across the floor with terrifying speed, it wrapped around my ankle before I could react.
The pain was immediate and excruciating.
It felt like acid and fire and ice all at once, like my leg was being dissolved from the inside out, I screamed, grabbing at the smoke, trying to pull it off.
My hands went right through it. Of course they did.
"Don't touch it!" Azryth was suddenly there, symbols blazing around him, he grabbed the smoke tendril with his bare hands, actually grabbed it, somehow making it solid, and tore it away from my leg.
The smoke shrieked, a sound that definitely came from something with intelligence, something that was pissed off about being thwarted.
Azryth hurled it across the room, where it hit the wall and dissipated with a furious hiss.
But the damage was done.
My ankle was burning, the skin where the smoke had touched was gray, spreading, veins of dark color creeping up my calf like infection.
"Poison," Azryth said, and he actually sounded worried. Actually worried, that was concerning. "Infernal poison designed to attack mortal flesh."
"That's bad, right?" My voice came out strangled. "That sounds bad."
"It's very bad." He was already scooping me up, carrying me toward his office. "It will spread through your bloodstream, and reach your heart within minutes."
"MINUTES?"
"I can slow it, extract most of it, but you're going to feel this."
He set me down on the leather couch in his office, already rolling up his sleeves, the symbols from earlier reappeared, but different. More complex, glowing brighter.
"This is going to hurt," he warned. "Probably worse than the poison."
"How is that possible.."
He pressed both hands to my leg, right where the gray discoloration was spreading.
I screamed.
It felt like he was pulling something out of me, actually extracting it through my skin, every nerve in my leg was on fire, transmitting pure agony directly to my brain.
"I know," he said, and his voice was tight with concentration. "I know it hurts, stay still."
"CAN'T..!"
"You can." His grip tightened. "You have to, f you move, I might miss some of the poison. And if I miss it.."
He didn't finish the sentence, didn't need to.
I bit down on my lip hard enough to taste blood, forcing myself to stay still while he did whatever magical extraction thing he was doing.
The gray started receding, slowly, so slowly. Pulling back down my leg, being drawn into his hands like he was a supernatural vacuum.
His hands were glowing now. Bright amber, almost whit, the poison collected there, visible as dark wisps that looked like they were trying to escape.
"Almost," he gritted out. "Almost got it."
The last of the gray disappeared from my skin. Azryth immediately pulled his hands away, the dark wisps still clinging to his palms, he made a gesture like he was throwing something, and the poison flew across the room, hit the wall, and evaporated with a final angry hiss.
Then he slumped forward, bracing himself on the couch with both arms, breathing hard.
"That," he said between breaths, "was closer than I'd like."
I was shaking, full-body tremors that I couldn't control, my leg hurt like hell, but it was normal hurt now. Not the soul-destroying agony from before.
"What the fuck was that?" I managed.
"A test." He straightened slowly, still looking exhausted. "Someone wanted to see how well I could protect you, whether the binding made me vulnerable through you."
"And?"
"They got their answer." His eyes were hard, furious. "I can protect you. But it costs me energy, power, and attention." He looked at my ankle, where the skin was still red and inflamed but no longer gray. "They'll use that information."
"Who's 'they'?"
"Rival demon clans, others who were exiled or bound, those who see my current situation as opportunity." He moved to his desk, pulling out his phone. "I should have anticipated this, should have increased security, should have.."
"Should have not kidnapped me and bound me in a magical marriage?"
He looked at me, for a moment, something like guilt flickered across his face.
"Yes," he said quietly. "Perhaps that would have been wiser."
The admission shocked me more than the poison attack.
He made several calls, voice clipped and commanding, speaking in what I assumed was some infernal language. His words were sharp, angry, leaving no room for argument from whoever was on the other end.
When he finished, he set down the phone and looked at me.
"The security has been tripled, no one gets in or out of this building without my explicit approval, no deliveries, no visitors. Nothing."
"So we're in lockdown."
"Until I can determine who sent that gift and make it very clear what happens to those who threaten what's mine." The possessiveness in his voice was concerning, but I was probably too tired to care. "Can you walk?"
I tried to stand, my leg protested but held.
"Yeah, barely."
"Good enough." He moved toward me, and I thought he might help me walk, instead, he picked me up again. Just scooped me up like I weighed nothing.
"I can walk," I protested weakly.
"You're injured and in shock, walking is negotiable." He carried me out of his office, through the penthouse, to my room. Set me on the bed with surprising gentleness.
"Stay here," he commanded. "Rest, your body needs to recover from the poison exposure."
"What are you going to do?"
"Find out who sent that gift." His eyes flickered with flame. "And ensure they never send another."
He started to leave.
"Azryth."
He paused in the doorway.
"Thank you," I said. "For... pulling that thing out of me, I know it took a lot of energy."
"You're bound to me." He said it like it was obvious. "Your survival is my survival, there's no choice involved."
But there had been concern in his voice when he'd seen the poison. Real concern. Not just pragmatic self-preservation.
"Still," I said. "Thank you."
He nodded once, then he was gone, closing the door behind him.
I lay back on the bed, my leg throbbing, my whole body aching, the sigil on my wrist was pulsing faster than normal. Agitated. Responding to the threat, to the violation of our space.
Someone had tried to kill me, or hurt me, or test Azryth through me.
And he'd pulled literal poison out of my body with his bare hands.
I thought about what he'd said. "What's mine." Like I was a possession, but also like I was something worth protecting, worth exhausting himself for.
The binding hummed in my chest, warm, secure.
We were under attack now. Both of us, together.
Whether we liked it or not, we were in this as a team.
I closed my eyes, trying to rest like he'd ordered.
In another part of the penthouse, I heard Azryth's voice, low and furious, making promises to someone that definitely involved violence and possibly involved fire.
The great Azryth Valek, defending his unwilling spouse with supernatural fury.
I drifted toward sleep, exhausted and hurting, I had to admit, it was kind of nice knowing someone would literally pull poison out of my veins to keep me alive.
Even if that someone was a demon who'd kidnapped me in the first place.
The binding pulsed in agreement.
I was definitely, definitely screwed.