Friday morning, I woke up feeling like I'd been hit by a truck made of exhaustion and poor life choices.
The spirit-banishing incident had taken more out of me than I'd thought. Even after sleeping for twelve hours straight (no shared nightmares, thankfully, Azryth must've done something to block the connection), I still felt drained. Like someone had unplugged my battery and forgotten to charge it.
I dragged myself out of bed, through the shower, and into another one of my new expensive work outfits. The mirror showed someone who looked like they'd been through a supernatural wringer. Which, fair. Accurate.
Azryth was already gone by the time I emerged, he'd left a note on the kitchen counter in sharp, precise handwriting.
*Eat breakfast. All of it. Don't test me.*
Next to the note was a plate covered with a silver dome. I lifted it to find actual food. Eggs, bacon, toast, fruit. The works.
I wanted to be annoyed at his bossiness, I was annoyed at his bossiness, but I was also starving, so I ate every bite while standing at the counter like a gremlin.
The food helped. Marginally.
By the time I made it to the office, I was running on caffeine and spite, my two most reliable energy sources.
The spirits were waiting for me.
Not just the three from yesterday. Five, maybe six, they'd multiplied overnight like supernatural rabbits.
"Oh, come on," I muttered, stopping in the hallway before my cubicle. "Don't you guys have better places to haunt?"
They just hovered there, wispy and curious and entirely too interested in my existence.
I pushed through them, which felt like walking through cold fog, and collapsed into my desk chair.
Sarah appeared almost immediately. "You look terrible."
"Good morning to you too."
"No, seriously. Are you sick? You're really pale." She leaned closer, concerned. "Is it wedding stress? I read that newlyweds often experience…"
"I'm fine," I cut her off. "Just tired, adjusting to... everything."
"Everything meaning being married to a billionaire CEO and probably having an insane schedule now?" She sighed dramatically. "Must be so hard."
If only she knew.
I turned to my computer, determinedly ignoring the spirits hovering around my monitors. I had work to do. Boring, normal, non-supernatural work.
I could do this.
I lasted approximately forty-five minutes before the exhaustion got worse.
Not just tired, wrong, like something fundamental was off-balance. The sigil on my wrist had stopped flickering and gone dull, almost gray.
My hands were shaking, my vision kept blurring at the edges.
One of the spirits drifted closer, reaching out. When it touched my arm, instead of the usual cold tingle, I felt something else. Like it was trying to pull energy 'from' me instead of just being curious.
I jerked back, but the movement made the room spin.
Not good, this was very not good.
I pulled out my phone with trembling fingers and texted Azryth.
*Something's wrong.*
The response was immediate.
*Define wrong.*
*Sigil is gray, everything feels wrong, I'm tired, the spirits are weird.*
*How weird?*
*One tried to pull energy from me.*
There was a pause that felt too long.
*Stay there, I'm coming.*
*You're at work, you don't need to…*
*Stay. There.*
***
Azryth Valek arrived at my office exactly seventeen minutes later.
I know because I watched the clock, getting progressively more light-headed, while my coworkers lost their collective minds.
The whispers started before he even reached my floor. "Is that.." "Oh my god, it is.." "Why is he here.." "Do you think.."
Then he was there, striding through the office in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than everyone's combined salaries, looking like a very attractive harbinger of doom.
Everyone stared. Obviously. You don't get a billionaire CEO walking into a mid-level tech firm without some staring.
He went directly to my cubicle, ignoring every gawking face.
"Riven," he said, and his voice had that edge that meant he was Not Happy. "With me, now."
"I'm working," I said weakly, because apparently my survival instinct had completely died.
"You're collapsing." He leaned down, lowering his voice so only I could hear. "The binding is destabilizing, you need an infusion. Now."
"A what?"
He didn't answer, just grabbed my arm, carefully, I noticed, and pulled me to my feet.
"Mr. Valek!" Karen materialized from nowhere, practically vibrating with excitement. "What an unexpected pleasure! We weren't expecting.."
"Conference room," he interrupted, still not looking at her. "Which one is private?"
"I, uh, Conference Room B is available, but.."
"Perfect."
He steered me toward the conference rooms, one hand on my lower back. Possessive. Controlling. The touch sent a small flare of warmth through the binding, enough that I could stand without swaying.
Behind us, I could hear the explosion of whispers.
"Did you see.."
"He came all the way here…"
"They must really be in love…"
If only they knew.
Conference Room B was a windowless box with a table, six chairs, and a whiteboard that still had someone's quarterly projections on it. Azryth guided me inside, closed the door, and locked it.
"Sit," he commanded, pointing to a chair.
"I'm fine," I lied.
"You're not fine, you're crashing, the binding is draining your energy faster than your body can replenish it." He loosened his tie, rolled up his sleeves. "Sit. Down."
I sat. Mostly because my legs didn't want to support me anymore.
He pulled another chair directly in front of mine, close enough that our knees almost touched, and sat down.
"What's happening?" I asked. "Why is it doing this?"
"You used too much energy yesterday, your reserves are depleted, and you're not eating enough, sleeping enough, or taking care of yourself adequately." His eyes did that thing where they flickered with actual flame. Anger. "I told you to come home immediately."
"I did!"
"After pushing yourself past reasonable limits." He reached for my wrist, turning it over to examine the gray sigil, his touch was warm, warmer than it should be. "This is what happens when you ignore the binding's requirements."
"I didn't ignore anything! I didn't know this would happen!"
"Which is why I'm here." He released my wrist but didn't move back. "I need to give you an infusion of energy, stabilize the connection before it collapses."
"An infusion how?"
"Direct transfer. It's not pleasant, but it's necessary." He held out his hands, palms up. "Give me your hands."
I stared at his offered hands, at the very deliberate way he was waiting for consent this time.
"Will it hurt?"
"No. But it will be... intense." Something flickered across his face. "The binding will strengthen temporarily during the transfer, you'll feel everything I feel, I'll feel everything you feel."
"Everything?"
"Everything."
That sounded deeply uncomfortable and invasive and exactly like something I didn't want.
But the alternative was apparently collapsing at my desk in front of my coworkers, or worse, having the binding destabilize completely.
I placed my hands in his.
His fingers closed around mine immediately, grip firm but not painful. The moment we connected, I felt it. That double-heartbeat sensation, except stronger, more present.
"Close your eyes," he said quietly. "And try not to fight it."
"Fight what.."
The energy hit me like a wave.
It started in my hands, where his skin touched mine. Warmth flooding through my palms, up my arms, spreading through my chest. Not painful, but overwhelming, like every nerve ending was suddenly lit up, hyperaware of everything.
I gasped, and Azryth's grip tightened.
"Breathe," he said, and his voice sounded strained. "Just breathe through it."
The warmth intensified, becoming heat. Not burning. But close. It spread through my entire body, chasing away the exhaustion, the wrongness, filling in empty spaces I hadn't known existed.
But with the energy came everything else.
His emotions, his physical sensations, everything, just like he'd warned.
I felt his heart racing, felt the effort it took to control the energy transfer, to keep it steady instead of overwhelming, felt his concern, actual, genuine concern, buried under layers of cold pragmatism.
And underneath all of that, something else, something darker. The weight of centuries, the memory of isolation, the fear that this binding, this connection, might be the only real thing he'd had in five hundred years.
My eyes snapped open, his were already open, staring at me with an intensity that made it hard to breathe.
"You're lonely," I whispered, the words escaping before I could stop them. "You've been lonely for so long."
His jaw tightened. "Don't."
"I can feel it, I can feel.."
"I said don't." But he didn't let go, couldn't let go until the transfer was complete.
The energy kept flowing. I could feel my own emotions bleeding through to him too, my fear, my anger, my exhaustion.
But also, and I hated this, my reluctant gratitude, my confusion about him, the tiny, traitorous part of me that didn't entirely hate being connected to someone again after years of deliberate isolation.
We were both lonely, both hiding, both pretending we didn't need anyone.
The binding had forced us together, but it had also revealed what we'd been hiding from ourselves.
His breathing had gone uneven, his pupils were dilated, the amber ring around them glowing brighter.
"Almost done," he said, and his voice was rough. "Just a little more."
The final surge of energy hit harder than the rest. It crashed through me, overwhelming every sense, every thought. For just a moment, I couldn't tell where I ended and he began, couldn't separate my heartbeat from his, my breath from his, my existence from his.
One person. One entity. One being split between two bodies.
Then it was over.
He released my hands like I'd burned him, pulling back so fast he almost knocked his chair over.
We sat there, both breathing hard, staring at each other.
The sigil on my wrist was glowing bright amber again. Steady and strong.
"That was..." I couldn't finish the sentence.
"Necessary," he said firmly. "Nothing more."
But his hands were shaking, I could see them trembling before he clenched them into fists.
"You felt it too," I said. "Everything I felt. You felt it."
"Yes."
"So you know that I…."
"We're not discussing this." He stood abruptly, straightening his tie with sharp, precise movements. "The binding is stable, you should be fine for several days. Eat more, sleep more, and don't use energy frivolously."
"Azryth.."
"I have meetings." He moved toward the door, not looking at me. "I'll send the car at five to bring you home."
"You don't have to.."
"Five o'clock, Riven." He paused with his hand on the doorknob. "And next time you feel the binding weakening, tell me immediately, before it reaches critical levels."
Then he was gone, the door closing behind him with a soft click.
I sat alone in the conference room, my hands still tingling from his touch, my chest still echoing with the memory of his heartbeat.
The binding had never felt so present, so undeniable.
I raised my wrist, looking at the glowing sigil.
For just a moment, during that transfer, I'd felt what it was like to not be alone.
And despite everything, despite the kidnapping and the forced marriage and the complete upending of my life, part of me had liked it.
A small, traitorous part that was getting harder to ignore.
I dropped my head into my hands and groaned.
This was going to get so much more complicated before it got better.
Outside the conference room, I could hear my coworkers whispering.
"He came all the way here just to check on him.."
"Did you see how he looked at him.."
"They must really be in love.."
Yeah. Love. That's what this was.
I laughed, slightly hysterical, alone in a conference room with my demon husband's heartbeat still echoing in my chest.