Page 90 of The Sin Binder's Vow

“You guys are the weirdest gods I’ve ever met.”

I raise a brow. “You’ve met other gods?”

She shrugs. “You’re still the weirdest.”

And I want to kiss her for that. For still teasing us after everything. For still making this ruined house feel like home.

Silas leans closer, eyes glinting. “So… does the weirdest god get the rest of your sandwich or—”

She smacks his hand away before he can snatch it.

“Make your own, thief.”

I laugh. And it feels good.

Normal.

But I can still feel the ache under it. The pull of what we lost. Who’s still missing. What we might still have to give up.

Still, for now—for this stupid, sacred moment—we’re just us.

She asks the question like it costs her something.

Like she’s afraid we’ll say no.

Like she hasn’t already turned herself inside out for us a hundred times over.

“Can you train me?” she asks, quiet but certain, sandwich forgotten, fingers resting lightly on the counter. “With your abilities. With what’s inside me.”

Silas, mid-bite, pauses dramatically—because of course he does—and raises an eyebrow. “You want a tutorial on Sloth? Gonna teach you how to nap like a professional.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s already smiling, and gods help me I want to memorize every expression she makes like it’s a language I’ll never get to fully speak.

I glance at her, more serious than I want to be. “You already channel wrath. That’s Riven’s specialty. But you want sloth and envy too?”

“I want to be able to protect you,” she says, simply. And that’s what guts me. Not her need. Not her desperation. Herlove.

Because that’s what it is. This girl—this force—keeps trying to hold together a war she didn’t start, with gods who don’t deserve her, and power that doesn’t play fair.

Silas leans back against the counter, chewing thoughtfully. “Envy’s gonna be a bitch. Not ‘cause I don’t want you to have it—just ‘cause, you know, it’s mywhole thing.It doesn’t like to share.”

“Neither do you,” I mutter.

“Exactly.” He winks at her, the ass.

Luna’s eyes flick to mine. “But you’ll help me?”

I run a hand through my hair. “Sloth isn’t just naps and shrugging. It’s a different kind of power. Slow, quiet, consuming. It’ll whisper to you that you’ve done enough, that nothing matters. That it’s easier to stop trying.”

Her brow furrows. “And that helps me… how?”

I step closer, just enough to watch the subtle shift in her breath, the way her body reacts before she can stop it.

“Because if you can master that,” I say, low, “you can control the lull. You can shut down someone’s will to fight. You can quiet the hunger, the noise, the fear. You’ll make gods kneel by making them forget why they ever stood.”

She swallows, hard. “So... when do we start?”

I reach for her hand—because I need to touch her, need to feel that bond pulse between us—and lift it to my lips, brushing her knuckles like a sinner giving thanks at an altar.

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