Page 39 of The Sin-Binder’s Fate (The Seven Sins Academy #1)

The book in my hands isn’t holding my attention.

I’ve been staring at the same paragraph for at least five minutes, my mind stuck in the space between exhaustion and restless energy.

The fire in the hearth flickers low, casting shadows against the stone walls, but the warmth does little to settle the unease curling in my stomach.

Everything here is shifting.

I can feel it, even if no one has told me why yet.

Lucien has been watching me more closely. Elias has been avoiding me, which is somehow worse. Caspian is still, Caspian, but even his amusement seems edged, sharper than usual. And Riven,

Riven has been distant. Not that he was ever particularly close, but there was something between us before. Something raw, something crackling and violent, but there.

Now?

Nothing.

Until now.

A knock at the door. Sharp. Firm. I don’t move at first, my fingers tightening around the edges of my book.

Another knock. Louder this time.

I exhale, swinging my legs off the bed and padding barefoot across the floor. The moment I unlock the door and pull it open, my pulse stutters.

Riven.

His broad frame fills the doorway, dark eyes burning with something unreadable. He doesn’t say anything. Because the air between us hums like an exposed wire, and I know, whatever this is, whatever he’s about to say, I’m not going to like it.

His gaze flickers over me, sharp and assessing, like he’s making sure I’m in one piece before he even starts. Then, voice low and gruff,

“Do you have a knife?”

I blink. “What?”

Riven exhales, shoving past me into the room and shutting the door behind him. His presence shifts the space, shrinking it, filling it with something electric.

I turn to face him, crossing my arms. “That’s your opening line?”

He ignores me, eyes scanning the room like he’s looking for something. “A knife, Luna. Do you have one?”

I scowl. “Do you?”

His jaw tightens. “Do you?”

I hesitate, studying him carefully. Riven is many things, violent, reckless, angry at the world, but not irrational.

And right now? He looks tense. Not the kind of tension that comes from barely leashed rage, but something else. Something deeper.

I exhale. “Yes. ”

He lifts a brow. “Where?”

I hesitate for half a second before stepping toward the dresser. I yank open the top drawer and reach into the back, my fingers closing around the cool weight of a blade. When I turn back, Riven is watching me carefully.

I hold it out to him.

His eyes flick to the weapon, one of Silas’s, stolen from his collection of sharp things he leaves lying around like a menace. The blade is obsidian-dark, the hilt wrapped in leather, perfectly balanced in my palm.

Riven doesn’t take it. Just stares at it.

I frown. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or are we just standing here like this forever?”

His gaze lifts back to mine, and something shifts behind his expression, something reluctant, something heavy.

And then, quietly.

“I’m going to bind with you.”

I don’t breathe. The words land like a physical thing, sharp and abrupt, leaving no room for argument, no space to process what they actually mean.

I blink. “You’re, what?”

His jaw clenches. “Binding. To you.”

I stare at him. Like if I just look hard enough, I’ll realize I misheard him. That this is some kind of fucked-up joke.

He holds my gaze, unflinching. Not a joke. Not even close.

I inhale, slow and measured, like that might actually help the situation. “And I don’t get a say in this?”

“You don’t want it?” His voice is neutral, unreadable.

“I don’t even know what the fuck it means.” My grip tightens on the knife. “You just, decided? ”

Riven exhales through his nose, shifting his weight. “I didn’t decide shit.”

I scoff. “Could’ve fooled me.”

His eyes flicker. “Lucien made the call.”

I shake my head, exhaling sharply. “And you just agreed?”

Something flickers across his face. Not quite anger. Not quite regret. “Not exactly.”

I drag a hand through my hair, the weight of this pressing into my chest. “So you don’t want to do it?”

His jaw tightens. “No.”

The word lands like a hit I wasn’t expecting. I don’t know why it stings. Maybe because I never asked for this either, but hearing it like that, like I’m a burden, settles under my skin like something sharp.

I force my voice to stay steady. “Then don’t.”

He exhales sharply, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Why not?”

His gaze flicks back to mine, dark and unreadable. “Because if you don’t bind to someone, you’re fucking dead.”

My stomach twists. I already knew that, in some vague, half-formed way. Lucien has made it clear enough, I’m not ready. I’m not enough. But hearing it like this, from Riven, It feels different. Like he’s stating a fact. Like he’s seen it happen before.

I swallow hard, fingers tightening around the knife still clenched in my hand. “And it has to be you? ”

He looks at me, something unreadable behind his eyes. “Apparently.”

I exhale, pressing my other hand to my temple, trying to piece together what this means. “So what? We do some weird ritual and suddenly I’m stuck with Wrath in my bloodstream?”

His lips press together. “Something like that.”

I lower my hand. “And you don’t want that.”

His expression shifts, something unreadable flashing across it. “I don’t want you to have that.”

I go still.

He doesn’t elaborate.

I study him carefully, something heavy pressing between us. “If you don’t want me to have it, then why? ”

“Because I can handle it,” he mutters, jaw tight.

I stare at him, something clicking into place. “You think I can’t.”

He exhales sharply, looking away, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, Luna.”

My stomach tightens. I don’t. Not really. But I do know one thing. Riven hates this. Hates it in a way that doesn’t quite make sense. And that means there’s something he’s not telling me.

I exhale, rolling my shoulders, tilting my head. “Fine.”

His eyes snap to mine. “Fine?”

I hold the knife out between us again, meeting his gaze head-on. “Then tell me what happens next.”

Riven stares at me for a long moment. Then, finally, he reaches for the blade.

But he doesn’t take it.

Instead, his hand closes over mine. His fingers are rough, his grip steady but firm, and the warmth of his skin against mine sends something sharp through my body, an awareness, a recognition I don’t want to name.

He exhales, slow and measured, his dark eyes lifting to mine. “If we do this, there’s no undoing it.”

I don’t look away. “I figured.”

His jaw clenches. “Then listen to me.”

I don’t respond, just wait. Because there’s something different in his voice now, something quieter, something edged with reluctance. Like he doesn’t want to explain this to me. Like he hates that he has to.

His grip on my hand tightens. “The binding isn’t just blood.”

A slow shiver crawls up my spine.

Riven watches me closely, his gaze unreadable. “It’s not some contract. It’s not a spell you can undo with the right words.” His voice drops lower. “It’s deeper than that.”

I swallow, the weight of his words settling heavy in my chest. “Then what is it?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, like he’s choosing his next words carefully.

“It’s instinct,” he says. “Magic at its most primal.” His fingers flex against mine. “It ties power to power, body to body, until there’s no distinction between where one ends and the other begins.”

My breath catches.

“Once it’s done, you’ll feel me,” he continues, his voice steady, deliberate. “You’ll know when I’m near. When I’m hurt. When I’m calling for you.”

My stomach twists. “Calling for me?”

His gaze flickers. “And I’ll feel you.”

A slow chill spreads through my veins, but it isn’t fear. Not exactly .

“You’ll have access to my power,” he says, voice smooth, like he’s forcing himself into that detached, emotionless space he always retreats to. “Wrath will be yours to wield.” His lips press together. “But you’ll also be mine.”

Something in my stomach clenches, hot and uncertain. “Yours?”

His jaw tightens. “Mine to protect. Mine to answer.” He drags his gaze over my face, slow and assessing. “And if you’re not ready for what that means, then you need to walk away now.”

I exhale sharply, my fingers curling tighter around the knife. “I don’t have a choice, remember?”

His expression darkens. “You always have a choice.”

I shake my head. “Not about this.”

His grip tightens, just slightly. Then, slowly, he exhales. “No.”

My pulse is a steady, heavy beat behind my ribs. I don’t break his gaze. Don’t let myself look away, even as my body hums with something sharp, something restless.

“So how does this work?” I finally ask.

Riven releases my hand, dragging his fingers through his hair. “We bleed together. Our magic reacts. And once it recognizes the bond, it seals it.” His gaze flicks toward the knife. “That’s where that comes in.”

I swallow hard, processing. “And that’s it?”

Riven’s lips curl, but there’s no amusement in it. “No, Luna.” He exhales, voice dipping lower. “That’s just the start.”

Something in my stomach twists.

I lift my chin. “And what’s the rest?”

His eyes darken. “We fuck. ”

The words land like a physical thing, heat flashing down my spine, pooling in my gut.

His smirk is slow, dangerous. “Magic needs an anchor.”

I hold his gaze. “And that anchor is sex?”

His expression doesn’t change. “It’s flesh. Blood isn’t enough. Magic needs a claim.” His voice dips, something curling through it, something dark. “A body bound to another. A connection so deep it can’t be severed.”

I exhale, forcing my hands to steady. “And you think we can just do that?”

Riven exhales sharply, shaking his head. “I think we don’t have a choice.”

“Here?”

His gaze flicks around my room, lips pressing together. “No.”

I lift a brow. “Why not?”

He snorts. “Because the bed in here is a fucking disaster, and I don’t plan on ruining my back along with my soul.”