I arched off the bed, my hands grabbing at Azryth's arms, I needed to hold onto something, anything, or I was going to fly apart.
His skin was burning hot under my grip, but he didn't pull away.
"Good," he said. "You're doing good, where else?"
"Stomach. Lower."
The fire moved again, following my guidance, this time when it hit the poison, I actually felt the toxin dissolving, breaking apart, being consumed by flames that somehow existed inside my body without destroying me.
"More," Azryth commanded. "There's more, find it."
I was crying now, couldn't stop the tears from the sheer intensity of sensation, fire in my veins, his hands on my chest, the binding singing between us, stronger than it had ever been.
"Arms," I choked out. "Both arms, the wrists."
The fire split, flowing in two directions, down my arms. Finding the poison hiding there, burning it away.
With each fragment destroyed, I felt marginally better, the nausea receded, the pain from the poison itself faded, replaced only by the pain of the fire doing its work.
"Almost," Azryth said, and I realized his voice sounded strained. "Last few fragments, focus."
I tried. God, I tried, but I was so tired, so overwhelmed, the fire inside me was demanding, relentless, and it was taking everything I had to stay conscious.
"Riven." His voice was sharp. "Stay with me, don't pass out."
"Trying."
"Try harder." One hand stayed on my chest, the other moved to my face, cupping my jaw, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Look at me, focus on me, where's the last of it?"
His eyes were completely flame now. No amber, no human features. Just fire looking at me with Azryth's intensity.
It should have been terrifying, instead, it was grounding.
"Spine," I whispered. "Base of my spine, small cluster."
The fire moved one final time, and this time I felt it reach behind me, through me, finding the last bits of poison clinging to my vertebrae.
The fire attacked, the poison fought back, for a moment, it felt like they were tearing me apart between them.
Then the poison lost.
It dissolved with a sound like distant screaming, and suddenly the fire was receding, pulling back out of my bloodstream, returning to Azryth's hands.
He kept his hands on me for another minute, the fire fading from bright white to amber to nothing, making sure every last fragment was gone.
Then, finally, he pulled away.
I collapsed back against the pillows, gasping, every muscle in my body was trembling, I felt like I'd run a marathon while being electrocuted.
But the poison was gone, I could feel the absence of it. The terrible wrongness that had been spreading through me was simply... gone.
Azryth sat back, and I noticed he was breathing hard too, sweat on his forehead, his hands were shaking slightly before he clenched them into fists.
"That," he said, "was the most difficult extraction I've ever performed."
"You've done this before?"
"Once. Centuries ago, on a demon who'd been poisoned by a rival." He looked at his hands. "It's exponentially harder on mortal physiology, your system isn't designed to handle demonic fire, the fact that you stayed conscious through the whole thing is... remarkable."
"It didn't feel remarkable, it felt like dying."
"You would have died without the extraction." He stood, moving to a cabinet in my room that I hadn't noticed before. From it, he pulled out water and what looked like medical supplies. "You need to drink, replenish fluids, the fire dehydrates."
He handed me the water. I drank it in desperate gulps, not caring that half of it spilled down my chin.
When I finished, he was holding out a soft cloth. "You're covered in sweat, and tears."
Right. Because I'd been crying, during the most intimate and painful experience of my life.
I took the cloth, wiped my face, my hands were still shaking too badly to do a good job.
Azryth took the cloth back, gently wiping my face himself, the gesture was so unexpectedly tender that I froze.
"The binding is stronger," he said quietly, focusing on the cloth rather than my face. "Significantly stronger, I can feel your heartbeat now, your breathing, your pain."
"I can feel yours too," I admitted. "Your exhaustion, the effort that took."
"The fire required most of my reserves, I'll need time to recover." He set aside the cloth. "But it was necessary, I won't let you die from something I should have prevented."
"You did prevent it, you saved my life. Again."
"I also made you a target by binding you to me." His jaw tightened. "This is my fault."
"You didn't poison me, someone else did."
"Someone who wouldn't have looked at you twice if you weren't connected to me." He finally met my eyes. "Your life was never in danger until I entered it."
He wasn't wrong, but he also wasn't entirely right.
"My life was safe," I said. "But it was also... empty, boring, deliberately lonely." I looked at the sigil on my wrist, which had receded back to its original pattern now that the poison was gone. "This is terrifying and painful and completely unwanted, but it's not empty."
Something flickered across his face, too complex to name.
"Get some rest," he said, standing abruptly. "The extraction took a lot out of both of us, you need to sleep."
"What about you?"
"I have work to do, security to reinforce, threats to neutralize."
"You just said you exhausted your reserves."
"I'll manage."
"Azryth.."
"Rest, Riven." His voice was firm and final. "That's not a suggestion."
He left before I could argue further, closing the door quietly behind him.
I lay there in the too-comfortable bed, in the too-expensive room, in a penthouse I'd never asked to live in, bound to a demon who'd just burned poison out of my blood with his bare hands.
My chest still felt warm where he'd touched me, the binding hummed contentedly, satisfied with the increased connection.
I could feel him now. Constantly, not just emotions but physical sensations, his exhaustion, the dull ache in his hands from channeling so much power.
The worry he was trying to hide about what this attack meant for both of us.
We were more connected than ever, the binding had gotten exactly what it wanted.
And I was too tired to decide whether that was a good thing or a terrible one.
I closed my eyes, Azryth's heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath my own, and let exhaustion pull me under.
The last thing I thought before sleep claimed me was that his hands had been gentle when he wiped my face.
And that maybe, just maybe, that meant something neither of us was ready to admit.