Page 193 of The Sin Binder's Vow

“—or, like, Lilith Junior—”

“Stop.”

“—they’d invite me to their weird nocturnal gatherings and let me perform emotional poetry under moonlight.”

“Silas,” I growl, but he turns to me like he’s genuinely confused about why this conversation isn’t going his way.

“I’m versatile, Riven. I contain multitudes.”

“You containdelusions.”

“They’reaesthetic!”

He throws a fry into his mouth with dramatic flair, chewing like it’s a punishment. Elias reaches across and slowly plucks Silas’s milkshake from his hand.

“This is why I drink,” Elias mutters, sipping it with exaggerated disdain. “Because you make me question every good decision I’ve ever made.”

Silas gasps again, horrified. “That’s mystrawberry bomb swirl!”

“It tastes like regret and glitter.”

“You’re regret and glitter!”

Luna’s whole face is pink now, shoulders trembling as she tries and fails to rein herself in.

I lean back against the booth, letting the chaos simmer around me. It’s fucking stupid. It’sSilas.And I’d probably kill him if he weren’t also the reason she smiles like that—like the world hasn’t ended yet.

But if he comes near me with black eyeliner or fake fangs, Iwillput him in the ground. Probably gently. Probably.

Luna

Silas stands at the foot of my bed like chaos incarnate—shirtless, barefoot, grinning with the kind of wickedness that makes gods flinch. The firelight paints golden shadows on his chest, catching the curve of muscle and the faint shimmer of magic already rippling under his skin. He’s too pleased with himself. And I hate that I already know I’m going to let him get away with it.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, and I don't like his tone.

“I trust you less when you ask me that with that face.”

He hums, delighted. “That’s fair. But hear me out.”

Then he flicks his fingers.

And suddenly—there are two of him. Same eyes. Same smug curve of mouth. Same feral hunger. The second Silas appears like a conjured sin, half-dressed in loose black pants that hang low on his hips, nothing else. He stretches—stretches—like a cat that knows it's beautiful and dangerous and fully aware of its power. Their power. Twin grins flash in unison. Two devils with matching dimples.

“You can’t be serious,” I whisper.

“Oh, we’re serious,” the first one says.

“Terrifyingly serious,” echoes the second.

They both wiggle their eyebrows at me. I stare. They stare back. The first one tips his head toward the other, casually, likehe’s offering me a glass of wine instead of a walking, talking copy of himself.

“This is a very experimental bonding experience,” he says. “Think of it as... a cosmic loophole. Technically, only one of us is bound. But we’re sharing everything tonight.”

The second one chimes in, “Especially you.”

My mouth opens, then closes. Then opens again, because what the actual fuck is happening?

“You cloned yourself.”

---