Page 116 of The Sin Binder's Vow

Shetrustsme.

And not in that fake, easy way mortals talk about like it’s a coin you hand over once and forget. No. She gives merealtrust—the kind that costs something. The kind that risks being hurt.Again.And again.

And the bond—fuck, thebond—answers.

Itsings.

My knees damn near give out from the way it floods me. Her love coats my insides, thick and raw, molten in a way nothing ever has been. I can feel it in every inch of me—how much she wants me. Not for what I can give. Not because she needs my power. Justme.

I take one step forward. Then another. My hands are fists at my sides because if I touch her right now, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop. Not without falling to my knees like she’s a god and I’m a sinner starving for absolution.

She doesn’t move.

Just holds my gaze, that finger still crooked, stilloffering.

And I lose the fight.

I close the space between us in a breath. I grab her wrist—not hard, just enough to feel the beat of her pulse flutter against my palm—and then I press my forehead to hers like that contact will anchor me.

“Luna,” I say, and it’s not a curse anymore. Not a challenge.

It’s aconfession.

She exhales like she’s been waiting her whole life to hear what I say next.

“I love you,” I rasp. My voice is fucked—shaky and low and nothing like what I sound like when I’m angry. “I’m so godsdamned angry all the time, but with you…”

I pull back just enough to look at her. Toseeher.

“With you I don’t want to burn. I just want tobreathe.”

And she smiles like that was the right answer all along.

Ambrose

The rain’s been a constant murmur against the stone, but now it hushes, like even the storm holds its breath. The doors open, not with a crash, not with any real sound at all, but they part just the same—and the Council steps through like they’ve always belonged here. Like this isn’t sacred ground made profane by their presence.

Three cloaked figures. Faces shadowed. Dripping. Silent.

But I know the one in the middle. Of course I do.

Keira moves like she still owns the breath in my lungs. Like she’s the one who carved it out of me in the first place and left it burning in her palm. Her hood slips back, and her hair’s different—longer, darker, twisted into a crown of braids that looks ceremonial. Strategic. Her blue eyes snap to mine, and I don’t flinch. I’ve already lost that war. Years ago. Centuries, maybe.

Beside me, Silas mutters something under his breath. Elias makes a noise like he’s going to be sick and immediately follows it with, “Ohthisbitch.” Riven just steps forward. No posturing. No greeting. His voice is steel through velvet.

“Why are you here?”

Keira doesn’t answer.

Because this—this—shouldn’t be happening. The Council only comes once a year, and they were here nine months ago. That’s carved into the stone, into our laws. Intome.

The other two figures lower their hoods slowly. Older immortals, both of them. Lorian, with his jagged bone tattoos curling around his neck like smoke. And the other—I don’t recognize him, which is worse. New blood. They never add members to the Council unless one dies. And Council members don’t die. Not unless something wentvery, very wrong.

And now they’re here.

Now.

While everything’s unraveling.

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