Page 40 of The Sin-Binder’s Fate (The Seven Sins Academy #1)
I blink. Then, before I can stop myself, I laugh. It slips out, sharp and unexpected, something raw cracking at the edges.
Riven glares. “What?”
I press my fingers to my mouth, shaking my head. “I just, out of everything that’s happening, that’s your concern?”
His jaw tightens. “I am not binding myself to you on a mattress that feels like it was stuffed with bricks.”
I snort. “So what? You have a superior mattress somewhere?”
He lifts a brow. “Obviously.”
I huff. “Of course you do.”
Riven crosses his arms, gaze flicking to the door. “My room. Now.”
I told myself I was ready for this, for whatever it meant. But now, walking behind him, my fingers curl around Silas’s knife, my breath coming a little too fast, I realize I don’t even know what this is.
Magic. Blood. Sex. A claim that can’t be undone. Mine to protect. Mine to answer.
I should be asking more questions. I should be demanding answers. But I can’t seem to get my lips to form the words.
Riven walks ahead of me, broad shoulders tense beneath his black shirt, his movements sharper than usual, like he’s holding something back.
He hasn’t looked at me since we left my room.
He hasn’t spoken. He’s leading me deeper into the house, past the halls I know, past the places I’ve already claimed as familiar.
Past anywhere I should be. My pulse thuds, slow and deliberate, my body caught somewhere between reluctance and a pull I don’t want to acknowledge .
I’ve never been to his room before. Never been anywhere his belongs.
And now I’m walking straight into it. The corridor darkens, torches flickering low in their sconces.
The air shifts, something colder curling at the edges of my skin.
The Sins live apart from the others, their chambers deeper, hidden.
Cut off.
I wonder if it was always that way. If they were always meant to be separate.
Riven stops in front of a heavy iron door. It’s different from the others in the Academy, reinforced, carved with deep sigils that pulse faintly with restrained power. A warning. A containment.
He presses his palm against it, and the magic embedded in the metal recognizes him. The locks disengage, shifting with a deep thud. He pushes it open without hesitation and steps inside.
I linger at the threshold. Because this is it. The line. And once I cross it, I don’t get to go back.
Riven looks over his shoulder, watching me carefully. Not impatient. Not expectant. Just watching. Like he knows this is a choice. Like he’s giving me the chance to make it.
I inhale.And then, I step inside. The door swings shut behind me, locking me in with him.
His room isn’t what I expected. I don’t know what I thought it would be, but it wasn’t this.
It’s dark, lit only by the low burn of a few lanterns mounted on the walls.
The stone is older here, lined with deep cracks, as if the structure itself has barely managed to contain the violence that’s lived within it.
There’s no clutter, no unnecessary furniture.
Just a heavy black desk, a set of shelves lined with things I can’t quite make out, and a bed, large, built like it’s meant to endure destruction.
I swallow hard, my pulse picking up.
I shouldn’t be noticing the bed first.
I shouldn’t be noticing any of this first.
Riven crosses the room, rolling his shoulders, dragging a hand down his face like he already regrets this entire situation.
I exhale, trying to steady myself.
“So,” I say, my voice too light, too forced. “This is where the great Wrath sleeps.”
Riven snorts, glancing at me. “Wouldn’t call it sleep.”
My stomach clenches.
I step further inside, my fingers still wrapped around the knife, my free hand brushing over the edge of the desk as I scan the room. There’s no personal touch, no sign of comfort. Just something cold, something restrained.
“Not what you expected?” Riven murmurs.
I glance at him. “I don’t know what I expected.”
He hums, watching me closely.
I shift, gripping the knife tighter, my mind catching up to everything else that’s about to happen. “I- ” I exhale sharply, shaking my head. “I can’t even wrap my head around this.”
Riven watches me for a long moment. Then, he steps closer. Not fast. Not sudden. Just deliberate.
His voice is quieter now, more measured. “What part?”
I shake my head. “All of it.” I glance down at the blade in my hand, turning it over, my fingers tracing the sharp edge. “The magic, the bond, the fact that, ” I inhale sharply. “That this is permanent. ”
Riven watches me carefully. “It is.”
I lift my gaze to his. “And you hate that.”
His jaw clenches. “It’s not about, ” He exhales roughly, running a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”
I take a step toward him before I can stop myself. “Doesn’t it?”
His eyes darken.
I swallow, trying to force some kind of sense into my spiraling thoughts. “I get why Lucien wants this. Why it makes sense to him. But you, ” I shake my head. “You fought it. I felt it.”
Riven’s hands flex at his sides. “Because it’s dangerous.”
My breath catches. “For who?”
His gaze flickers. “You.”
Something thick settles in my throat.
He shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “I don’t do control, Luna.” His voice is low, dangerous. “I don’t hold back.”
A shiver rolls down my spine. Because I believe him. Riven is destruction, contained only by the chains he’s wrapped around himself. He fights because there’s no other option. He moves like a force of nature, tearing through whatever’s in his way.
And now, I’m about to be tied to that.
I inhale, my grip tightening on the knife. “So what do we do?”
Riven watches me for a long, heavy moment.
Then, He reaches for my wrist. Slow. Careful. Like he’s waiting for me to pull away .
I don’t.
His fingers wrap around my pulse, his grip firm, steady. He drags my hand up, positioning the knife between us, his free hand lifting to his own wrist.
“Give me the knife,” he murmurs.
My breath shudders out, but I obey.
The blade is warm from my grip, and I don’t flinch when he guides it to the inside of my wrist.
His gaze holds mine. “Ready?”
No. Not even close.
But I say, “Yes.”
Because this is happening. And I’m not walking away .