Page 4 of The Sin Binder’s Chains (The Seven Sins Academy #2)

Lucien is a dead man.

I swear to every fucking force in existence, the second we’re out of this, I’m snapping his perfectly sculpted, self-righteous, condescending neck.

Logical. That’s what he said. Like it made sense. Like it was the only viable option. Like he wasn’t personally fucking me over by shoving Luna on a horse with me, forcing me to endure this.

Because this? This is absolute torture.

Every tiny shift of her body, every slight movement, every breath she takes presses against me. The Hollow’s unnatural wind whips around us, her scent, wild, electric, something I can never fucking place, coiling into my lungs, settling there like a curse.

She doesn’t even realize what she’s doing. Doesn’t understand what she is. Doesn’t fucking know that every time she adjusts, every time she grips the reins tighter, I have to concentrate to keep my hands where they belong.

Which, for the record, is not wrapped around her waist. Not gripping her hips, fingers pressing into that maddening strip of bare skin between her top and the waistband of her pants.

Not dragging her back against me, feeling every subtle curve, every delicious, torturous press of her body against mine.

Nope. None of that. I am civilized. I am better than this. I want to fucking die.

She shifts again, a quick adjustment to balance herself, and I swear, I swear she’s doing this on purpose.

“Stop wiggling,” I growl, voice rougher than it should be.

She twists her head, glaring at me over her shoulder. “I’m not wiggling.”

“You are wiggling. You’re a fucking menace.”

She scoffs. “I’m trying not to fall off.”

“Uh-huh,” I mutter, jaw tightening as she moves again. “Sounds like something a wiggler would say.”

Her lips press together like she’s physically restraining herself from slamming an elbow into my ribs.

I grin, mostly to distract myself from my impending mental breakdown.

“Besides,” I continue, “if you do fall, I can always slow time and watch it happen in excruciating detail. Could be fun.”

She exhales through her nose, staring ahead, fingers curling around the reins. “I hate you.”

I hum, dipping my head closer, just enough for my breath to brush her ear. “Lies don’t suit you, little star.”

She freezes. And fuck, that was a mistake. Because now I feel everything. The way her breath hitches, the sudden heat of her pulse just beneath her skin. The way her fingers twitch, like she wants to shove me away but knows she can’t.

I have to force myself to sit back, to put space where I don’t fucking want it, to breathe like a normal person instead of some depraved idiot with no self-control.

I hear Lucien’s voice in my head. “Keep her on the damn horse, Elias.”

Oh, I bet he’s enjoying this. Smug bastard.

She points ahead, her arm slicing through the cold, stagnant air of the Hollow, and I shift the reins in response, guiding the wraith horse toward the direction she’s leading us.

Simple. Logical. A basic fucking task. Except nothing is ever fucking simple with Luna Evernight. Because the second the horse leaps over some jagged, gnarled ruin, she reacts, instinctively, naturally, grabbing the nearest thing for stability.

Which just so happens to be me.

Specifically, my thighs. My actual fucking thighs. Both hands. Wrapped firmly around them.

I die instantly.

Brain? Gone. Body? Irrelevant. Dignity? Reduced to dust. My entire fucking existence short-circuits in real time, an immediate, catastrophic system failure that leaves me sitting there, gripping the reins like they’re the only thing keeping me tethered to reality.

I don’t breathe.

I don’t move.

I don’t function.

Somewhere in the back of my skull, I hear a distant, glitching alarm, like my subconscious is screaming ERROR, ERROR, DO NOT COMPUTE.

Luna, completely unaware that she’s just killed me, keeps holding on, her grip firm, warm, fingers digging into the fabric of my pants.

I think I black out. Just for a second. A full fucking blue-screen reset, my brain dissolving into a mess of static and pure, unfiltered what the actual fuck is happening right now?

“Elias,” Lucien calls sharply from ahead, utterly oblivious to my personal, private fucking crisis.

I try to answer. I do. But my voice? Doesn’t work.

Luna shifts, adjusting her grip slightly, and my entire soul leaves my body.

Holy shit.

Lucien glances back, eyes narrowing. “Elias.”

Still nothing. My mouth opens, but my brain is so fucking fried that all that comes out is a strangled, unintelligible noise, some horrific combination of a gasp and a wheeze and maybe a desperate attempt at language.

Luna finally, finally notices my very real and serious distress.

Her head tilts slightly, her hands still resting exactly where they should not be. “Are you okay?”

“Fine!” I blurt, far too quickly, voice cracking somewhere in the middle.

Lucien is now definitely looking at me like I’m an idiot.

Luna frowns, her fingers twitching, and oh my fucking gods she’s still touching me.

I have to fix this. I do the absolute worst thing possible.

I turn to her, wide-eyed, and with all the confidence of a man who has just absolutely lost his entire fucking mind, I say, “So, uh. You like what you feel?”

Immediate regret. Immediate.

Luna’s eyes go flat.

Elias. You dumb, dumb bastard.

Then her grip tightens, and for half a second, I think maybe, she’s about to entertain my nonsense. But no. Instead, she leans in slightly, voice as sweet as poison.

“I was bracing for survival,” she purrs. “Not appreciating the ride.”

I make a noise like I want to die voluntarily.

And then, she lets go. Just releases me entirely, sits up, and fixes her hair like she didn’t just ruin me, like she didn’t just send my neurons into absolute, devastating chaos.

Lucien mutters something under his breath that sounds vaguely like fucking disgraceful.

I swallow, straighten, and very maturely refuse to acknowledge the fact that I am still malfunctioning on every level.

Instead, I shake the reins, clear my throat, and attempt to salvage whatever shreds of dignity I might still have.

“Cool, cool,” I say. “Not offended. Happens a lot.”

Lucien levels me with a dead stare. “It does not.”

Luna smirks. “I’d bet my life it doesn’t.”

I grin because it’s the only defense I have left. “You wanna touch me again and find out?”

Lucien groans.

Luna? She just laughs. And fuck me, I think that might be worse.

Lucien rides ahead, posture straight-backed and perfect, probably thinking about how he’d rather be anywhere else than here, with me acting like an absolute dumbass.

I can feel his irritation radiating off him like heat, a constant, simmering disapproval that would almost be funny if I weren’t also busy suffering.

I’m usually good at this. Smooth. Effortless. Charming in a way that gets me exactly what I want without ever costing me anything. But around her? Every single word that comes out of my mouth is a crime against language itself.

I need backup.

I need Silas.

That bastard is so much worse than me, so profoundly, violently cringe, that whenever he’s around, I get to look normal in comparison. Which is a goddamn miracle considering I’ve just spent the last five minutes internally losing my mind because Luna’s hands were on my thighs.

But no. Silas isn’t here.

It’s just me. And Lucien.

And Lucifer’s golden fucking prodigy is currently providing exactly zero distractions from the fact that Luna is still close enough that I can count the individual strands of hair whipping against my jaw.

I exhale, trying to will myself back to sanity. It doesn’t work.

Luna shifts slightly, adjusting her grip on the reins, and it’s just too much.

My mouth moves before my brain can stop it.

“So, uh,” I start, immediately regretting it. “What’s your policy on cuddling?”

Lucien makes a noise like he wants to pretend he didn’t hear me, but physically cannot.

Luna goes still. And then, slowly, turns her head to look at me.

Her expression is pure, distilled exhaustion. “I beg your fucking pardon?”

I force a grin, shoving my absolute shame into a deep, repressed hole where all my worst decisions go to die. “I just think,” I say, very conversationally, “that given the circumstances, a little closeness wouldn’t be the worst thing. You know. For safety.”

Luna stares at me for a long moment, then, slowly, deliberately, leans forward instead of back. Which, okay, not what I was expecting. She’s so close now that when she speaks, I can feel her breath against my throat.

“Elias,” she murmurs, voice low, dangerous, deadly.

I swallow. “Yeah?”

“If you don’t shut up,” she whispers, sweet as poison, “I will throw you off this fucking horse.”

I make the absolute worst decision.

I wink. “Kinky.”

Luna shoves me. The horse swerves. And for one glorious moment, I almost do fall to my well-earned death.

Silas. Hurry the fuck up and get back here.

What I need to be is smooth. Effortless.

Dangerous in that irresistible, bad-decision-you’ll-thank-me-for-later kind of way.

What I need to do is say something so devastatingly charming, so obscenely suave, that Luna Evernight finally, finally looks at me like I’m more than just a walking disaster with good hair.

What actually happens?

She shifts. Right. Back. Into my dick. And my entire fucking brain, Short circuits. Loudly. I make a sound. A sound that should not exist. A sound that no self-respecting man should ever make in his life.

Something between a gasp and a choke and a high-pitched, strangled “Hhhngh, ” that immediately guarantees I will never know peace again.

Luna freezes.

Lucien reins in his horse so abruptly that it nearly rears, and he whips around to glare at me like I just committed an unforgivable sin against decency itself.

“What,” he says, voice flat, cold, “was that?”

I can’t answer.

Because my brain is still a smoldering wasteland of error messages and shame.

Luna slowly turns her head, staring at me with a look I can only describe as unholy levels of judgment.

And then, with zero mercy, she deadpans, “Did you just moan?”

I die instantly.

I try to salvage this.

I do.

“What? No. That was, ” I force a laugh, way too loud, way too forced. “That was just uh, battle instincts.”

Luna squints. “Battle instincts?”

“Yeah! You know. It’s a.. uh ” I gesture vaguely at the air like that will somehow help. “A reaction thing. Normal. Completely normal.”

Luna does not look convinced. I double down.

“It’s like, when you’re in a high-stakes combat scenario,” I say, trying to sound extremely competent and manly, “your body just reacts. No time to think. Just pure, instinctual, ”

Luna raises a single brow. “Instinctual whimpering?”

I panic.

“No, no, see, what you don’t understand,” I say, lying through my teeth, “is that it’s actually a tactical maneuver.”

Luna stares.

I forge ahead like the reckless idiot I am.

“Because, see, if we were under attack, right?” I lean in slightly, voice dropping, trying to sell this absolute garbage. “And I made that sound?”

Luna crosses her arms. “That sound.”

I nod solemnly. “That sound.”

I press on.

“The enemy would hesitate. Instantly.” I snap my fingers for emphasis. “Because nobody is prepared for that kind of raw, unexpected emotional warfare.”

There is a horrifically long pause.

Then Luna, completely straight-faced, says, “So what you’re telling me… is that if we get into a fight, you plan to seduce them to death?”

I grin. “It’s effective.”

Luna sighs slowly and suffering. “Gods, I miss Silas.”

I slap a hand over my chest. “Ouch.”

Lucien yanks his reins and takes off at a gallop like he physically cannot be near me for one more second. And I, a winner in every conceivable way, ride after him, forever cemented as the dumbest bastard in the Hollow.