Page 143 of The Sin Binder's Vow

“—you’ll what?” I purr, eyes locked on his. “Cry? Moan? Realize you like it?”

“I willbiteyou.”

“That’s foreplay, sweetheart.”

He growls, actual growls, and I’m grinning now, full teeth, wicked. I lunge, he dodges, we collide—limbs tangling, breath hot and ragged. I manage to hook my fingers beneath the collar and yank. The coat comes halfway off before Elias grabs the hem andpulls it back on.

“You are not stripping me,” he snaps.

“Iamreclaiming stolen property,” I argue, fingers tightening.

We’re wrestling now, like children with knives, like gods who’ve forgotten how to be divine. He’s stronger than he looks, wiry and fast, but I’ve got leverage. We stumble against the couch, crashing sideways, and I end up straddling him, one hand fisted in the lapel, the other braced beside his head.

“You done?” Elias pants, glaring up at me.

“Not even close.”

We’re both breathing hard. Too close. Not close enough. My eyes flick to his mouth, the way it curves, infuriating and familiar. My chest burns with affection I will never, ever say out loud.

He looks back at me like he knows.

And then Luna laughs.

The spell breaks. I glance over my shoulder to see her shaking her head, eyes alight with something complicated—somethingwarm. Like she’s watching her favorite brand of disaster.

“You two need to get a room,” she says.

I smirk. “Wehaveone. He just keeps trying to escape it.”

Elias shoves me off him and peels the jacket away, thrusting it at my chest like it’s a weapon. “Here. Take your damn coat. And never make me play fashion doll again.”

I clutch the jacket to my chest like it’s sacred. “Helovedit.”

Luna hums, gliding toward us like moonlight wrapped in mischief. “You both looked very hot.”

Elias groans. I preen.

“See?” I say, nudging him with my elbow. “Validation from the goddess herself.”

Elias is beingdifficult. As if my fashion sense hasn’t single-handedly improved the aesthetic of this cursed academy by at least thirty percent. As if he hasn’t benefited from my taste—mygift—every time he steps out in something that doesn’t look like it was peeled off a corpse in a ditch.

He flops across the bed, face-down, limbs spread like a crime scene chalk outline. “No.”

“I haven’t said anything yet,” I point out, crossing the room like I’m on a runway, hips loose, chin high. “But thanks for the enthusiasm.”

He groans into the pillow. “Whatever it is, the answer is no.”

I stop at the foot of the bed and plant my hands on my hips. “Elias.”

“No.”

“Eliiiiassss.”

“No!”

Luna lifts a brow at me, amused. “What are you trying to do to him?”

“I’m trying tosavehim,” I say, throwing a dramatic hand over my heart. “From his own appalling taste. From the trauma of yet another faded hoodie and those boots that look like they lost a war.”

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