Page 55 of The Sin Binder's Vow

And that—that—makes me furious.

She blinks up at me, lashes still damp from the cold air or dreams she hasn’t shaken. “Are you going to pull away?”

I want to. Ishould.Ineedto.

But the bond thrums beneath her skin like it’s calling to me. Reminding me we were never supposed to be separate. That it wasn’t just fate that stitched us together—it was something older. Hungrier.

“I don’t like being handled,” I growl.

She doesn’t move. “Then don’t make yourself so easy to hold.”

Fuck. Her mouth. That smart, infuriating mouth.

I shift, wrench my arm out of her grip and put a step between us like it’ll help. It doesn’t. Her scent is still in my nose. Her heat is still crawling under my skin like embers trying to ignite.

“You don’t get to follow me and poke the beast and act like you’re not going to get bit,” I snarl.

She shrugs. “Maybe I want to see what happens when you do.”

“Maybe you don’t.”

There’s something sickly sweet in the silence between us. Something that coils between my ribs and whispers that I’m already lost. That this—this—is what it feels like to be owned by something I can’t kill.

Behind us, the village is beginning to stir. A door creaks open three buildings down. Two children run out barefoot into the frostbitten street, chasing each other through smoke trails and the scent of salted meat. Normal. Almost idyllic.

It’s a lie.

The banners flutter above their heads like warnings dressed in celebration. Whatever festival this is—it’s not meant for joy.

I glance at Luna again, and her eyes are on them. But her expression is unreadable. That’s what makes her dangerous. Not the magic. Not even the bond. It’s the way she feels everything and shows nothing.

“Lucien wants to ask around,” she says quietly. “See what these people know.”

“They won’t talk.”

She finally looks back at me. “You sure?”

“They smell like secrets. Like they’ve been keeping them so long, their teeth have grown over them.”

She flinches at that, just slightly. Then says, “That’s poetic, Riven.”

I bare my teeth. “It’s not meant to be.”

She exhales, and it fogs in the space between us like a ghost trying to take shape.

“You’re always like this,” she says. “Sharp. Ready to burn everything down.”

“Better than pretending it isn’t already on fire.”

She doesn’t argue. Just studies me like she’s trying to find a place to press deeper. A weakness to unravel.

The problem is—she already has.

The bond pulses low and hard in my chest. Not demanding. Not even seductive.

Justpresent.

And gods help me, I want to rip it out and keep it at the same time.

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