Page 28 of The Sin-Binder’s Fate (The Seven Sins Academy #1)

I’ve been avoiding her. It’s not cowardice, I don’t do cowardice, but I know better than to play with a game piece I haven’t fully examined yet.

And Luna Evernight is… unfinished. Rough around the edges, unpolished, naive in ways that amuse me. But she’s also something more, something that’s beginning to shift and sharpen, and I don’t like moving without a full picture.

But Lucien, in his infinite wisdom, has decided that waiting is no longer an option. Which is why I’m currently making my way through the halls of our house, irritation curling low in my stomach.

The House of Avarice is a testament to indulgence.

Not gaudy, not desperate, but purposeful.

The stone walls gleam dark, illuminated by the soft glow of chandeliers hanging from high vaulted ceilings.

Gold embellishments, subtle, never excessive, thread through the architecture, and plush, deep-colored rugs soften every step.

Everything here is meant to be touched, to be possessed.

And for the first time in years, something within these walls does not belong to me .

Luna.

I scowl, adjusting the cuff of my sleeve as I reach the training wing.

Lucien had made himself clear, we are to train her. Teach her. And I was chosen to go first.

What I don’t understand is why. Lucien doesn’t want her.

That much is obvious. He’s cold toward her, distant in a way that’s almost pointed.

And yet, instead of taking the first turn at molding her into something useful, he put himself at the end of the lineup, like he’s waiting for something.

Like he’s waiting to see if she’ll still be standing by the time he gets to her.

Interesting.

I push open the door to the training room, stepping inside.

And there she is. Luna stands in the center of the space, arms crossed, impatience written across her face. She looks different from the last time I saw her, less uncertain, more steady. Like she’s beginning to understand the rules of the world she’s been thrown into.

I smile. “Did you miss me, darling?”

Her expression flatlines. “Not even a little.”

I chuckle, stepping closer. “Lies won’t get you anywhere with me, Luna.”

She exhales sharply, looking past me. “Let’s just get this over with.”

I study her, intrigued. “Lucien’s orders getting under your skin?”

Her gaze flicks back to mine, wary. “And what about you?”

I tilt my head. “What about me? ”

She crosses her arms. “You haven’t looked at me twice since the trial. But now, suddenly, we’re doing this?”

I smile, slow and knowing. “Careful, sweetheart. You almost sound offended.”

She scowls. “I just don’t like people wasting my time.”

I hum, stepping in close enough to catch the slight shift in her breathing. “Then let’s not waste any.”

She watches me carefully. “What exactly am I supposed to be learning from you?”

I grin, reaching out, slow, deliberate, and brushing my fingers over the fabric of her sleeve.

She flinches.

I feel it.

The instinct to pull back, to guard herself. But I also see the exact moment she remembers, the deal she made. The favor she owes me.

I drag my touch lower, barely grazing her wrist before pulling away. I don’t like to rush things. Power is best when savored. When you take your time prying it open, peeling back the layers, letting it settle into your hands before you decide what to do with it.

And Luna?

She’s power wrapped in something soft. Something breakable. And I do so love breakable things. She’s waiting for me to speak, arms crossed, watching me like I might try to pull another deal from between her ribs when she isn’t looking. And she’s right to be wary.

But she made her first mistake days ago. She owed me before she even understood what that meant. And now? Now, she’s mine to teach .

I smile, slow and indulgent. “Let’s begin with something simple.”

I lift my hand, turning my palm up. “My power is possession. A fitting term, don’t you think?”

Her brows pull together. “Possession of what?”

I step toward her, deliberately slow, dragging my fingers along the edge of the nearest table as I pass. She doesn’t miss the movement, her gaze flicking to the smooth surface just in time to see it darken beneath my touch, shifting from polished wood to obsidian black.

Mine.

She stiffens.

I drag my fingers back over it, and the color returns, as if I’d never touched it at all.

“I can claim anything,” I murmur. “People. Objects. Even elements, if I desire them enough.” I glance at her, watching the way her lips part slightly. “If I touch it, I own it.”

Her throat bobs with a swallow. “That seems… excessive.”

I laugh. “Oh, darling, that’s only the beginning.”

I lift my hand again, brushing my fingertips together, letting her see the slow, golden shimmer that gathers at my skin. “The Golden Tongue,” I say smoothly. “My words are irresistible. The weight of them bends reality just enough to make a deal feel like the best decision you’ve ever made.”

She narrows her eyes. “So, manipulation.”

I smirk. “Oh, no. That’s such an ugly word. I simply… persuade.”

Her shoulders roll back, like she’s trying to shake the weight of my voice off of her. “And what’s the catch?”

I hum, dragging my thumb along my lower lip. “Would you like a demonstration?”

She hesitates .

Smart girl.

I reach into my pocket and pull out a single gold coin. I toss it into the air, watching it catch the dim light before it lands in my palm. “Tell me, Luna, what’s a promise worth to you?”

She watches the coin like it might bite. “That depends.”

I roll the cool metal between my fingers. “On what?”

Her gaze flicks to mine. “On what happens when you take too much.”

I grin, slow and sharp. “Oh, that?” I spread my fingers, letting the coin rest on my palm.

Then I claim it.

The air hums. The coin darkens, fuses to my skin, sinking into me like liquid gold until it’s gone.

Mine.

Luna inhales sharply.

I flex my fingers, watching the way my veins shift, how the gold lingers there for just a second too long, before it fades. And then, just for fun, I reach back for the table, And this time, when I drag my fingers over the surface, the wood splinters beneath my touch.

Luna flinches.

I smile.

“There’s your answer, darling,” I murmur, admiring my hand. “The more I take, the more it destroys me.”

She exhales, sharp and unsteady. “Then why keep taking?”

I tilt my head, considering. “Because I can.”

Because I was made to. Because Greed does not know how to stop.

Luna studies me, searching for something in my expression. “And if you overreach?”

I chuckle. “Then I break. ”

Her fingers curl slightly, like she’s considering something she doesn’t want to say. “And yet… you still want more.”

I grin. Because she understands perfectly. She knows what it’s like to crave something that might destroy you.

I step closer, lowering my voice. “Do you know what the best part is?”

Her lips part slightly, breath shallow. “What?”

I lift a hand, skimming my fingers just over her sleeve, not quite touching her, but close enough to ruin her anyway.

“People give themselves to me willingly,” I murmur.

Her breath hitches.

I smirk. “Just like you did.”

Possession is an art. People like to think ownership is something simple, something transactional.

They believe it’s about having something.

Owning it on paper, keeping it in your grasp.

They don’t understand. True possession isn’t about holding.

It’s about taking. It’s about becoming so deeply embedded in something that it cannot exist without you.

That’s what I do.

That’s what I am.

Luna is about to understand that firsthand. She’s watching me too carefully, standing too still, her mind already calculating the risk of letting me touch her. But she doesn’t move. Because no matter how much she wants to deny it, she’s already given herself to me.

And now? Now I get to claim her properly.

I reach out, slow, deliberate, watching as her gaze flickers to my fingers before she forces herself to hold still. That control of hers is admirable, truly. It will be delicious when I break it.

When my fingertips brush her wrist, she shudders.

I hum in satisfaction. “You feel that, don’t you?”

A flicker of something defiant in her gaze. “It’s just a touch.”

I smirk. “No, darling.” I press down firmly, wrapping my fingers around the delicate bone of her wrist, and let my power sink in.

She gasps. Not in pain, no, never pain, but in recognition. Because in that single instant, she knows what’s happening. Knows that something in her has been stolen, that something in her is mine now. I lift her wrist, twisting it gently in my grasp. She doesn’t resist. Can’t resist.

Her breath comes uneven now, her pulse a rapid beat against my palm.

“Ambrose,” she exhales.

I hum. “Say it again.”

She swallows, lips parting, something raw flickering across her face as she realizes, she wants to. She wants to say my name. She wants to give in to it. But she fights it.

I smile, slow and indulgent. “Let me show you what it means to belong to me. ”

I press my free hand to her shoulder, letting my power spill deeper, letting it slide beneath her skin like liquid gold, warm, consuming, undeniable.

And just like that, I feel everything. The way her body stiffens beneath my grasp, the way her muscles react to my command. The delicate strings of her will, so fragile, so untouched, coiling around my own.

I tilt my head. “Raise your arm.”

Her brow furrows, lips pressing together like she wants to resist. But she can’t. She does. Her arm lifts, smooth, seamless. Her breath shudders, fingers twitching in a silent what the fuck as she stares down at herself.

I chuckle darkly. “Fascinating, isn’t it?”

She doesn’t respond, still looking at her arm like she doesn’t recognize it. Like she’s no longer inside herself.

I press further, just enough to test the weight of her will.

“Step forward,” I murmur.

And she does. A single step. Perfect. Unforced. Smooth, like her body simply knows it belongs to me.

Luna inhales sharply, her free hand curling into a fist. “Ambrose.”

My name sounds different now. Not just spoken, but offered.

I tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze.

I lean in, lips brushing just near the shell of her ear. “You’re mine, Luna.”

She’s angry. I can feel it in the way her muscles coil beneath my hands, in the sharp little hitches of breath she hasn’t yet learned to hide from me. It’s delicious. Not because I want her, because I don’t, but because I know it’s only going to get worse. And I want it to get worse.

She thinks she’s clever, thinks she can walk into our world, into my space, and come out unscathed. She doesn’t understand what she’s asking of us, of me. Of what it means to belong to something you never get to escape.

So if she wants to be mine, even for this moment? I’ll make her regret it.

I exhale slowly, my grip on her wrist lightening just enough to be taunting, just enough to make her feel like she has a choice, like she could step back if she wanted to.

But we both know she won’t. Her jaw tightens, lips pressing together in defiance, and I love it.

I love that she still thinks she can resist me when we both know how this ends.

I tilt my head, dragging my gaze over her, watching the way she holds herself, like she’s bracing for a fight.

Good.

Let her fight. Let her lose.

“You’re quiet,” I murmur, my voice curling around her like silk, like something warm and inviting, even as I unravel her. “Not enjoying yourself, darling?”

Her glare is immediate. Sharp. “Go fuck yourself, Ambrose.”

I chuckle, deep and knowing. “I could. But this is so much more fun.”

I press my fingers deeper against her skin, letting my power hum between us, letting it sink into her. And when she inhales sharply, I grin.

Because now? Now I own her movements. I step back slowly, my fingers ghosting over her wrist as I release her, but she doesn’t step back. She can’t. Instead, she takes a single, forced step toward me.

I hum, tilting my head. “Oh? That’s interesting.”

Her hands are fist at her sides. “Ambrose.”

I smirk. “Say it again.”

Her teeth clench. “Fuck. You.”

I sigh, long and exaggerated. “So hostile. And after everything I’m doing for you.”

She jerks her arm again, uselessly. And I love it. Because she knows she’s moving, because I allow her to. She knows her body is no longer entirely her own in this moment, and that’s what gets to her. Not the control itself, but the awareness of it. The helplessness.

I thrive on that feeling. On the weight of something belonging to me, even when it doesn’t want to.

Her chest rises and falls faster now, her skin flushed in frustration, but she still won’t fucking beg. And that’s fine. Because I’m not here to break her. I’m here to make her leave me the fuck alone.

I release her all at once, watching her stumble back, her breath coming out sharp and furious.

Her glare could cut glass. “What the fuck was that?”

I step closer again, voice softer now, as if what I just did wasn’t violence. As if it wasn’t a warning.

“That,” I murmur, “was a reminder.”

She exhales harshly, fists shaking, looking like she wants to hit me. And I wait. Because if she does, she’ll be mine again. She knows it.

I see the exact moment she realizes it. And instead of hitting me, instead of playing into my hands,

She turns and walks away.

Smart girl.

I watch her go, my lips curling as I settle my power back inside me, letting the room breathe again.

I don’t want her. I don’t need her.

And if I have any say in it? She’ll stay the fuck away from me .