The penthouse gym was in the basement level of Valek Tower. I'd never been down there before, didn't even know it existed.
It was huge, professional-grade equipment, weights, machines, a boxing ring in one corner, mats covering most of the floor.
And Azryth, waiting in the center, already changed into training clothes, black fitted shirt, loose pants, his hair was tied back.
He looked annoyingly attractive, I was still covered in the lingering smell of fried electronics.
"You're late," he said.
"I had to explain to my boss why my computer exploded."
"What did you tell her?"
"Electrical surge, she bought it.. mostly because the alternative is admitting her employee is a walking supernatural disaster." I set down my gym bag. "Do I need to change?"
"Unless you want to ruin your work clothes." He gestured to a door. "Locker room, I had appropriate attire brought down."
The locker room was exactly as fancy as everything else in this building, the "appropriate attire" was a high-end athletic wear in exactly my size.
When I emerged, Azryth was arranging objects on the mats, a water bottle, a tennis ball and what looked like a stress ball.
"We're starting with the basics," he said. "Control requires two things: intent and focus. Right now, you have neither, your power is reacting to your emotions and stress."
"So I just need to stop being stressed, in this situation, that's your advice."
"I'm saying you need to learn to channel stress into control rather than chaos." He pointed to the water bottle. "Levitate it."
"I don't know how to levitate things on purpose, it just happens!"
"Because you're not directing the energy, you're leaking it." He moved behind me, and I felt his presence like heat at my back. "The infernal energy inside you wants to be used, you need to tell it what to do."
"How?"
"Focus on the object, visualize it moving, then push the energy toward that visualization." His voice was closer now. Right behind my ear. "Try."
I stared at the water bottle, visualized it rising, then pushed.
Nothing happened.
"You're trying too hard, stop thinking. Just... feel." His hand touched my shoulder, and I felt the binding flare. "Feel the energy inside you, the warmth, the power. It's there waiting."
I closed my eyes and tried to feel what he was describing.
And there it was. A warmth in my chest, connected to the binding but separate, moving and alive.
"Good," Azryth said quietly. "Now direct it out through your hands, toward the bottle."
I opened my eyes, focused on the water bottle, and pushed the energy.
The bottle shot across the room like a missile, hit the far wall, and exploded.
"Too much force," Azryth said, completely unfazed. "But you directed it, that's progress."
"I destroyed it!"
"You controlled the destruction, better than random explosions." He placed another water bottle on the mat. "Again, gentler this time."
We practiced for two hours.
I destroyed seven water bottles, three tennis balls, two stress balls, and one folding chair that got too close.
But by the end, I managed to levitate a tennis ball approximately six inches off the ground for almost ten seconds before it shot into the ceiling.
"Better," Azryth said, and I thought he might actually be proud. "Your control is improving."
"I'm exhausted." I sat down on the mats, sweating. "How do you do this constantly? Use power without getting tired?"
"Centuries of practice, and a larger energy reserve." He handed me a water bottle. "You're still drawing primarily from the binding, as your own reserves develop, it will become easier."
I drank half the bottle, then looked at him. "Why are you training me? You could just... I don't know. Keep me locked up so I don't cause problems."
"You're not a prisoner."
"I'm bound to you, that's pretty close to prisoner."
"You're bound to me for mutual survival." He sat down across from me. "And I'm training you because untrained power is dangerous, to you, to me, to everyone around us, this isn't charity, it's necessity."
"Right, necessity." I picked at the label on the water bottle. "Not because you actually care if I hurt myself."
He was quiet for a long moment.
"I pulled poison out of your blood with my bare hands," he said finally. "I burned it away with fire that could have killed you if I'd lost control for even a second, I did that because the thought of you dying was..." He stopped. "Unacceptable."
I looked up at him.
"The binding makes your survival my survival," he continued. "But it was more than that, the idea of you in pain." His eyes met mine. "It was unacceptable."
The binding hummed between us, warm and intense.
"Oh," I said softly.
"We're training tomorrow night again, same time." He stood abruptly. "Don't destroy anything important between now and then."
He left before I could respond, the gym door closing behind him with a soft click.
I sat alone on the mats, my heart doing complicated things in my chest.
He cared.
Maybe not in a way he wanted to acknowledge, maybe only because the binding was pushing him toward it.
But he cared.
And the terrifying part was that I was starting to care back.