Page 47 of The Sin-Binder’s Fate (The Seven Sins Academy #1)

I let my illusions coil back into the ground, shadows dissolving like ink in water, the landscape returning to its bleak, frost-covered stillness.

She watches with quiet curiosity, her arms tucked beneath the heavy folds of her borrowed coat.

She’s doing that thing again, the considering thing, where she looks at me like she’s picking me apart, piece by piece, cataloging my weaknesses for later use.

Which is fine. Totally fine.

Because there’s nothing to pick apart. Nothing to dissect.

I am unshakable.

I stretch my fingers, letting the last remnants of magic settle beneath my skin, and then I fix her with my most devastatingly charming smile.

“So,” I say, voice smooth as silk, cool as ice. “Thoughts? Reviews? Constructive feedback?” I tilt my head. “Or are you too overwhelmed by the sheer artistry of what you just witnessed?”

Luna lifts a brow, unimpressed. “I think you like hearing yourself talk.”

Oof. Okay. Not the response I was aiming for, but that’s fine. I can work with this.

I smirk, stepping closer. “And yet, you’re still listening.”

She exhales through her nose, fighting a smile, and for a brief, glorious moment, I think I’ve got her.

I think I’ve won.

And then, she shivers. A tiny, involuntary thing, just the slightest tremor running through her shoulders, barely even noticeable, but my entire brain malfunctions again.

Because fuck me, that’s….That’s cute. Like, offensively cute. And now I can’t stop looking at the way she hunches slightly against the cold, the way her fingers twitch against the fur-lined sleeves of her coat, the way the tip of her nose is just the faintest shade of pink.

Oh no. No, no, no. Not again. I will not spiral into another downward cringe event.

I will not-

“C-cold?”

Fucking hell. Why did my voice just do that?

Luna blinks. “What?”

I cough. Loudly. Unnecessarily. “I mean, ” I flounder, my previously perfected smooth demeanor crumbling like wet paper. “I mean, are you… You know. Cold?”

She stares. Like I’ve just spoken in tongues. Which, to be fair, is how it feels trying to speak right now, because my brain has been replaced with a mess of static and failure.

She shifts her weight, lips twitching like she’s trying very hard not to react.

I don’t give her the chance.

I react first.

“I- ” I clear my throat, straightening, forcing my cool back into place. “I could, you know… fix that.”

She tilts her head. “Fix it?”

I flash her a grin, all confidence and mystery, as if I wasn’t one stutter away from self-destructing. “Magic, sweetheart.” I flick my fingers, letting small sparks of warmth crackle between them. “I’m exceptionally talented.”

She lifts a brow. “At heating things?”

I narrow my eyes. “You don’t have to say it like that.”

She definitely bites back a laugh. Which is rude, because I am trying to be smooth here.

I exhale sharply, focusing, shifting my magic, real magic, not the illusions, to pull at the lingering warmth in the air, gathering it, letting it bend beneath my will.

It’s not fire. Not heat in the traditional sense.

More of a pulse, something that seeps into the bones, warming from the inside out.

Luna stills, watching.

I lift a brow, triumphant. “Better?”

She hesitates, then exhales, visibly more relaxed. “Huh.”

I smirk. “Admit it. You’re impressed.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m grateful.”

“That is impressive,” I say smoothly. “Not everyone appreciates good craftsmanship.”

Luna shakes her head, but she’s smiling, and that, that’s the only victory I need.

I am back.

Cool. Confident. In control.

And then, she hugs herself. Arms crossing, shoulders curling inward just slightly, like she’s sinking into the warmth I just gave her, like she’s seeking it out,

And my entire soul collapses in on itself. Because, Because what the fuck am I supposed to do with that? That’s, That’s too much. Too soft. Too innocent. Too pretty. My magic nearly glitches out of existence because my body suddenly forgets how to function like a normal, composed being.

I scramble. I flail internally. I desperately try to grasp onto the suaveness I just barely regained.

And what do I do?

I finger-gun again.

AGAIN.

And then, then I wink. Which, FUCK. That’s too much. That’s aggressive. That’s weirdly intimate. That’s so much worse than anything I could have possibly done.

Luna snorts. Which is absolutely the last thing I hear before I officially perish from cringe overload.

Okay. Not great. But I can still recover from this.

Sure, I’ve made a few critical errors. Maybe I’ve obliterated any semblance of dignity I once had. Maybe Luna has now witnessed, in real time, the complete collapse of my brain-to-mouth function because she did something as simple as exist in a way that was too pretty for me to handle.

Because this? This is fixable. I just have to overcompensate.

I straighten my coat, shake off the crippling humiliation, and slide back into peak charm mode.

“Anyway,” I say, injecting my voice with the smoothest, most seductive tone I can manage, “now that we’ve warmed you up, what else can I do for you, sweetheart?”

Luna gives me a look. “You don’t have to say it like that.”

I smirk, taking a slow, deliberate step closer. “Like what? ”

“Like…” She waves a hand vaguely. “That.”

Oh, this is perfect. She’s flustered. Which means I have the upper hand again.

I grin, tilting my head. “Luna, if my voice is too much for you, just say so.” I place a hand over my chest, feigning concern. “I’d hate to be the reason your heart starts racing.”

Her brows lift. “You think you have that effect on me?”

I lean in slightly, dropping my voice to something lower, rougher. “I know I do.”

She exhales through her nose, unimpressed. “And here I thought you were good at illusions.”

Oh. Oh, she wants to fight. I can work with that.

I grin, all teeth, all confidence, absolutely refusing to let this slip through my fingers. “Come on, admit it.” I lift a hand, twirling a strand of her hair between my fingers, letting it slide over my knuckles. “You think I’m charming.”

Luna blinks up at me.

And then, then she does something horrifying. She tilts her head, gives me a slow once-over, and says, completely serious,

“You’re funny.”

…

What. My entire brain shuts down. Every neuron. Every synapse. Every last functioning part of my existence just ceases. Funny. Not charming. Not dangerous. Not irresistible.

Funny .

I have died. I have died and been reincarnated as a joke. I blink at her. My mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. I cannot process.

She’s completely calm, completely unaware that she has just obliterated my entire being with a single, casual, devastatingly innocent sentence.

Funny. Not devastating. Not life-ruining. Not I need you to ruin me completely, Silas.

Fucking funny.

I, I need to fix this. Immediately. I clear my throat, forcing a smirk onto my face, desperately grasping at any remaining threads of my dignity.

“I mean, yeah,” I say, voice too casual, too forced, too fucking fake.

“I’m hilarious.” I toss a hand in the air, as if I wasn’t literally on the verge of death five seconds ago. “Best quality, honestly.”

Luna smiles.

Like she knows. Like she sees right through me. Like she knows I just suffered the single most catastrophic emotional injury of my life, and she is choosing to let me die slowly.

I swallow. “But also sexy.” I waggle my brows, because clearly, I have lost all control of my own body. “Like, dangerously sexy. Irresistible, really.”

Luna tilts her head. “Mmm.”

…Mmm?

What the fuck does mmm mean? I try to read her expression, but it’s a fucking void.

Luna exhales, folding her arms. “I don’t know, Silas.” She smiles, and it is unholy. “I think I prefer you funny.”

No. Absolutely not. I will not stand here, in my prime, in the height of my supernatural power, in the afterglow of one of my most impressive feats of magic, just to be relegated to fucking funny.

I blink at her. She blinks back.

And that’s it. That’s the moment. That’s when my entire existence realigns itself into a new and singularly critical purpose: Make Luna admit that I am more than just “funny.”

I inhale sharply, setting my stance like I’m about to go into battle. “Alright, sweetheart.” I smirk, smooth, devastatingly charming, throwing every ounce of natural charisma I have into this moment. “I’ll give you one chance to reconsider.”

Luna tilts her head, clearly amused. “Reconsider what?”

“The blatant underestimation of my many, and I do mean many, irresistible qualities.”

She bites back a smile. I see it. It’s there. This is winnable.

I take a slow, calculated step toward her, my voice dropping to something lower, rougher, my signature get-them-weak-in-the-knees tone.

“You’re telling me that when you look at me, when you hear my voice, when you see me do things like this, ” I flick my fingers, letting glowing threads of dark energy slither through my veins before flickering out just as quickly.

“that all you think is ‘haha, what a funny little guy’?”

Luna shrugs, nonchalant. “Basically.”

I nearly fucking collapse. She didn’t even hesitate. Not an ounce of shame. Not even a pause for consideration .

I drag a hand down my face, genuinely struggling to comprehend how this is happening to me.

“Okay, okay, hold on.” I exhale sharply, collecting myself, regrouping. “So, when I do this, ” I step closer, just inside her space, tilting my head slightly as I look down at her, my breath slow, deliberate, every part of me exuding danger and intent, “you feel nothing?”

Luna considers it.

She actually pretends to think about it. And then she shrugs.

Shrugs.

And with the most soul-shattering lack of enthusiasm, she just-

“Ehhhh.”

I stagger back like I’ve been shot. I grip my chest, physically holding my own heart in place, because what the fuck was that?

I glare at her. “Did you just ‘ehhh’ me?”

Luna gives me an innocent look. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You- ” I point accusingly, actually offended. “You evaluated my entire existence and landed on ehhh?”

She bites her lip, very clearly holding back laughter. “I mean, you’re just… you know.” She waves a vague hand.

My eye twitches. “No, Luna. I do not know.”

She shrugs again, and I swear on my immortal soul I have never been so deeply insulted in my entire life.

I plant my hands on my hips, jaw tightening. “Alright. Alright. Fine. You want proof? You want undeniable evidence that I am, in fact, more than just your lovable, hilarious, all-around incredible companion?”

Luna smirks. “Oh, this should be good.”

I narrow my eyes. “You asked for this. ”

And then, I summon the most lethal, devastating, purely supernatural display of power she has ever fucking seen.

The snow around us vanishes, melting instantly beneath a surge of heat.

The air shifts, thick with raw energy, crackling through the clearing.

Shadows coil outward, stretching impossibly long, moving like living things, whispering in a language older than time.

The trees bend toward me.

The earth itself hums with recognition.

And right at the center of it all, Me. Cool. Powerful. Unfathomably attractive.

I tilt my head, watching her now. “Well?”

For a second, just a second, I think I have her.

And then, she exhales, completely deadpan.

“Still funny.”

I don’t know what divine entity is laughing at me right now, but I hope they choke on it, because this?

This is bullshit. And my one remaining brain cell, the last rational part of me that should be stopping me from making a mistake, is just standing in the corner, lighting a cigarette, watching me self-destruct in real time.

So what do I do? The only logical thing left.

I fucking kiss her. And not some gentle, hesitant, uncertain brush of lips, no.

I kiss her like I mean it, like I’m about to rewrite her entire definition of what I am.

I grab her face, fingers curling against her jaw, tilting her head up because if I have to suffer, so does she.

And then I press my mouth to hers, swallowing whatever smug little retort was about to leave her lips.

And for one glorious, fleeting moment, the world stops .

No illusions. No pretending.

Just this.

Her lips, soft and warm against mine. The small, startled inhale she makes against my mouth. The way I can feel the exact second she realizes what’s happening. The way her fingers twitch, like she’s caught between pulling away and pulling me closer.

Oh, sweetheart.

You wanted proof?

I’ll ruin you with it. I kiss her deeper, slower, dragging it out, letting her feel every inch of what I’m pouring into this. Letting her feel me. Because I’m not funny right now, am I? No one laughs when they’re kissed like this.

She isn’t laughing now. And for a brief, perfect second, I think I’ve won. And then, she pulls back. Just an inch. Just enough for her lips to barely leave mine. Enough for her to look at me, gaze dark, dazed, mouth still kiss-drunk,

And whisper, “Still funny.”

…I am going to walk into the ocean .