Page 19 of The Sin-Binder’s Fate (The Seven Sins Academy #1)

His eyes are green. Not bright, not soft, sharp, cutting, the kind of green that looks more like gold when the light hits it just right. He watches me with interest, like he’s never seen something quite like me before.

His dark hair falls in waves just past his collar, unruly but intentional, framing the sharp edges of his jaw.

His suit is perfectly pressed, a deep charcoal, the fabric catching the dim light in a way that shouldn’t be possible in a place this ruined.

Like the filth of this place can’t touch him. Or he won’t let it.

When he finally speaks, his voice is smooth, rich, and practiced.

“Luna Evernight.” My name drips from his tongue like honey, too sweet, too thick. “You’re much smaller than I expected.”

I don’t answer.

I know what he is. What he can do. Possession. Control. Words that twist into chains.

I can’t afford to listen.

“You’re not going to run?” he muses, stepping forward, slow, measured. “Not even going to try?”

I take a step back before I can stop myself. His lips quirk into something amused, but there’s something else in it, too: satisfaction. He likes that. That reaction.

“I don’t need to run,” I say. My voice is steady, but my pulse is a drum against my ribs. “You’re stalling. ”

He tilts his head. “Am I?”

I don’t see him move. One moment he’s standing where he was, the next he’s in front of me. Close enough that I can feel the warmth of his body, close enough that the scent of something rich, leather, and something spiced, something expensive, wraps around me.

My breath catches.

“Tell me, little Binder,” he murmurs, low, intimate. “Do you know what my power does?”

I don’t answer. I can’t. The moment he speaks, it sinks into me, winding around my ribs, curling into the softest, most vulnerable parts of me. It isn’t magic, not exactly. It’s worse. It’s instinct, like the way a flame draws the moth, the way thirst calls for water.

His voice makes me want to listen.

That’s the danger of Ambrose Dalmar. It isn’t brute force like Riven. It isn’t overwhelming desire like Caspian's. It’s soft, insidious. You don’t notice the strings until they’re already wrapped around your throat.

I grit my teeth and push against it. “Fuck off.”

Ambrose hums, studying me, then sighs. “That’s disappointing,” he says, almost genuinely. “I was hoping for better.”

And then he moves. Faster than thought, faster than reason, his hand catches my wrist, and it burns.

Not heat. Not pain.

Possession.

I see it in his eyes the moment he feels it, power, threading from his fingers into my skin, into me. My body jolts, locking up for the barest second, and it’s enough .

His lips brush my ear.

“Kneel.”

My knees hit the stone before I can stop them.

It’s not a conscious decision, not a choice.

It’s instinct, my body responding before my mind can catch up, like a puppet on strings I didn’t even feel wrapping around me.

The second I drop, the weight of it coils tighter, pressing down, winding through my veins like something ancient and inevitable.

Ambrose exhales, slow and pleased.

“Good girl.”

My hands curl into fists. Heat licks up the back of my skull, shame crawling beneath my skin like a second layer. I glare up at him, but that only seems to amuse him more.

He crouches in front of me, balancing effortlessly on the balls of his feet, fingers steepled together as he studies me. The way his mouth tilts, the precise arch of his brow, he’s enjoying this.

“Does it bother you?” His voice is smooth as silk, rich as sin. “How easy it was?”

I force my jaw to unlock. “Fuck you.”

Ambrose laughs. It’s quiet, indulgent, like I’m an amusing little thing playing at defiance. “Mmm,” he muses. “I can feel you fighting it. But you can’t quite stop, can you?”

I try to move, to pull away from his influence, but my body is locked in place, every muscle frozen under the weight of his command.

“That’s the thing about power, little Binder.” His fingers trace the sharp cut of his jaw, like he’s considering something. “It’s never about strength. Not really. It’s about possession.”

His eyes flick over me, green and gold burning into my skin. “And right now? You’re mine.”

I grind my teeth so hard my jaw aches .

“You’re supposed to be clever,” I bite out. “Yet here you are, wasting all that effort on making a girl kneel. What, Ambrose? Need to feel big?”

That gets a reaction. It’s subtle, the flicker of something in his gaze, the way his mouth stills before it curves again. Not a smirk this time, something sharper. More interested.

“Clever and mouthy.” He tilts his head. “Tell me, Luna. Do you want me to let you up?”

I don’t answer.

His smile widens, slow and knowing.

“Say please.”

I refuse.

Seconds stretch between us, taut and silent. He watches me with something unreadable, something weighing, measuring, before he exhales like he’s come to a decision.

“Well.” Ambrose rises smoothly to his feet. “Perhaps we should make this more interesting.”

The power pressing against me shifts, just enough to make me aware of it, of how much of me it already owns. My heart slams against my ribs.

“I’ll give you an offer,” he says. “One you shouldn’t be able to refuse.”

I steel myself. “Try me.”

Ambrose steps closer. Close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. Close enough that I feel the warmth of him, the sheer pull of his presence, like gravity bending around a star.

“You forfeit the trial,” he murmurs, low and honey-sweet. “You bow out, right here, right now, and in return?” He leans in, voice dipping just for me. “I’ll make sure you live.”

The words curl through me, sinking beneath my skin, slithering through my ribs, curling tight around my lungs. It’s pulling at something, pulling me, my instincts whisper yes, yes, say yes, because his voice is a lure, a promise, a cage made of spun gold.

I should accept.

I shouldn’t be able to resist.

And yet, A slow smile ghosts across my lips.

“I’ll pass.”

Ambrose stills. His expression doesn’t change, but something shifts in his eyes, something keen and calculating. Surprise.

“You’re resisting me,” he murmurs.

I tilt my head. “Seems that way.”

His fingers twitch at his sides. Like he wants to test it. Like he can’t quite believe it.

Then his expression smooths again, and he chuckles, deep and dark. “Luna Evernight.” His voice is a blade wrapped in velvet. “You are very dangerous.”

I arch a brow. “Starting to think so myself.”

Ambrose watches me for another lingering moment, then exhales. “Alright, then.” He crouches again, slow, deliberate, until we’re eye to eye.

His words coil around me like silk, deceptively soft but woven with steel.

"Fuck me, and I’ll let you live."

The arrogance in his tone is so absolute, so casual, that for a second, I almost laugh. But there’s no humor in this, not when I can feel the weight of his power pressing against me, curling around my limbs, slipping beneath my skin like an unspoken demand. The Golden Tongue.

I grit my teeth against the pull, against the way my body reacts to the command before my mind can catch up. The edges of his words brush along the inside of my skull, urging compliance, whispering that it would be so easy to say yes. But easy has never been my style .

I lift my chin, meeting his gaze. "That’s your offer?" My voice is steady, but I lace it with disdain, like I’m unimpressed. Like I’m not still pinned to my knees by the weight of his power.

Ambrose tilts his head, studying me like I’m something he’s deciding whether to keep or crush. His green eyes gleam in the dim light, an unsettling mix of amusement and calculation. "It’s a generous one," he muses. "Most would be grateful to trade so little for their life."

I let out a sharp breath, forcing a smirk even as my muscles scream against it. "That depends on what you think ‘so little’ is."

His lips curve. "You wound me, little binder. Here I am, offering you the simplest path to survival, and you’re acting as if I suggested something distasteful."

"Oh, my mistake," I say dryly, fingers curling against the cracked stone beneath me. "You just want a quick fuck in exchange for not murdering me. So romantic."

His power presses deeper, thick and insidious, making my pulse stutter for half a second before I shove the reaction down. His presence alone feels like a hand at my throat, tilting my chin, forcing me to look at him exactly how he wants.

"You think romance has anything to do with survival?" His voice dips lower, silk wrapped around steel. "Tell me, Luna, do you believe you’ll make it through this trial without giving something away?"

I hold his stare, refusing to blink, refusing to let him see the way my skin burns beneath his words.

"That depends," I murmur. "Do you plan to kill me, or just fuck with me until someone else does it for you? "

Ambrose exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head. "I can do both, you know. Greed is such a lovely thing; it means I never have to choose."

His power pulses again, sinking deeper, and for a terrifying moment, I feel my resolve slip, the word yes curling at the back of my throat, his offer slithering through my mind like a promise wrapped in gold. But I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood and shove back.

It doesn’t work, I can’t push his power off me, not like I did with Caspian, but I don’t fall to it either. I hold. I resist. And I see the flicker of interest in his eyes when I do.

"Tell you what," I say, my voice softer now, almost coaxing. "Since you love deals so much, let’s make a different one."

Ambrose raises a brow, intrigued despite himself. "I’m listening."

I drag in a slow breath. "You don’t kill me. You don’t get to touch me. But I’ll owe you a favor."

Ambrose clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "That’s not how this works."

"It is now." I let the words settle between us, letting them feel like something real, something weighted. "One favor. No loopholes, no tricks. And you walk away."

He watches me for a long moment, the green of his eyes flickering like embers, burning with something unreadable. Then, his lips curl, slow and knowing.

"You have no idea what you just offered me," he murmurs.

I lift my chin. "Then take the deal, or stop pretending you ever planned to kill me in the first place."

For a second, I think he might strike me for the audacity alone. But then, Ambrose grins.

And that might be worse .