Page 75 of The Sin Binder's Vow

I keep walking, pace steady despite the way my body wants to stall beneath the weight of her threat and her warmth. We’re gaining on Lucien and Orin up ahead—Lucien keeps glancing back like he doesn’t trust me with her, like he’s waiting for me to fail.

Maybe he’s right to.

She curls tighter into my chest, and her hand finds its way to the nape of my neck. Her fingers slide into my hair, nails grazing my scalp. A shiver rocks down my spine, furious and involuntary.

“I’m not jealous,” she says, too casually, like she’s lying through her teeth and wants me toknowit. “I just like things that are mine.”

“And you think I’m yours?”

She doesn’t blink. “Iknowyou are.”

I don’t have a comeback for that.

Because I’ve never belonged to anyone. Not truly. Not until her.

She drags her teeth across her bottom lip like she’s trying to seduce a fucking demon.

I am the demon.

And she knows it.

But it’s not her usual edge-of-a-blade, queen-of-ruin kind of seduction. No, this? This is… ridiculous. It’s whatever chaotic bastard offspring would be born if Elias and Silas decided to collaborate on an elaborate plan to make me lose the last shred of sanity I’ve managed to cling to.

She tilts her head. “Riven,” she purrs. Except it’s not a purr. It’s a taunt. It’s the sound a girl makes when she’s been hanging around Silas too long and wants to see how far she can push before someone gets set on fire.

“Do you want me to say it?” Her voice is low. Teasing. “Do you want me to tell you how good your arms look when you’recarrying me like I’m helpless? Or maybe how I canfeelevery muscle in your chest flex every time you take a step and—”

“Stop.”

She grins.

I tighten my hold on her because if I let go now, I might actually toss her into the woods and hope a particularly judgmental shrub teaches her a lesson.

“You’re lucky I haven’t dropped you,” I mutter.

“You wouldn’t.” She leans her chin on my shoulder like she’s settling in for a nap. “You like having me this close. Admit it.”

I say nothing.

And then she sighs dramatically. “Fine. Don’t admit it. But just so you know, I think this could be our thing. You, me, a ruined village, a little arson—romance.”

“That wasn’t romance. That wasaccidental immolation.”

“Potato, po-tah-to,” she sing-songs, then lowers her voice into a mock-whisper. “Besides, I saw the way you looked at me when I lit her dress on fire.”

My jaw locks.

“Like you wanted to throw me over your shoulder and drag me into the woods.”

I turn my head just enough to look at her.

She’s smirking. Drunk. Reckless. Radiating so much Silas-coded energy it makes my spine itch.

“You areunhinged,” I tell her flatly.

Her smile widens. “Takes one to bond one.”

Her fingers curl into the hair at the base of my neck, tugging just enough to make me grind my teeth. Not in protest—never that—but because everything about her is a provocation, even this.

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