Page 147 of The Sin Binder's Destiny
I clench my fists inside my pockets. I shouldn’t feel this. Not for her. Not for anyone. But she’s threaded through me now in a way I can’t untangle, and it’s not just the bond. It’s not magic. It’s not fate.
It’swant.
Real. Ugly. Honest.
And then I hear her. Soft footsteps behind me. Measured. Barely audible beneath the rain and the distant crackle of the fire.
Luna.
I don’t turn.
Not yet.
Because I need one more second—one last breath where I don’t have to pretend I’m okay. Where I can just exist in the ache and the regret and the fucking fury of wanting her so badly it eats me alive.
“You always disappear when you’re about to say something real.”
It’s not angry. Not soft, either.
Justtrue.
I close my eyes. She always does that—pulls the words out of me without touching. Like she’s already been inside my head and doesn’t need my permission to live there.
I turn slowly. And there she is. Soaked. Barely lit from the glow of the fire behind her. Hair curling around her jaw. Eyes sharp, but not cruel. Her arms are crossed like she’s bracing for whatever version of me I’ll be this time.
And I want to ruin that expectation. I want to say something that doesn’t wound. So I offer the only thing that’s mine to give.
“I didn’t want to love you.”
Her expression doesn’t shift.
I go on.
“I hated that you existed. That fate had the audacity to give me someone I hadn’t chosen. And then you had the nerve to begood.To bebetterthan anyone I’ve ever met. To look at me like I’m worth something, even after everything I’ve done to make you flinch.”
Her brow furrows, and she starts to speak, but I shake my head once.
“I don’t need you to say anything. Not yet. I just need you to know that I never wanted this. And now that I have it—you—I don’t know how to stop.”
The silence holds.
She stares at me for a long time. Unblinking. Measured.
Then she steps forward. And gods—she touches my hand. Just a graze. Fingertips over knuckles. Barely there. But it shatters something in me I didn’t know I was still holding onto.
“Ambrose Dalmar,” she says slowly, deliberately, “did you just tell me that you love me in the most fucked up way possible?”
My pulse stutters. She says it like it’s funny. Like it’s a dare. But there’s something else behind it. Something quiet. Fragile. Hope maybe. Or worse—belief.
I open my mouth. Close it again.
Fuck.
I did.
I fucking did. I told her. Not the way she deserved to hear it. Not with flowers or declarations or the kind of pretty words Elias would string together to make her smile. I told her the way I know how—blunt. Brutal. Bleeding.
I drag a hand through my hair and drop my gaze to the space between us, watching the rain hit the mossy ground like it’s going to offer me a script to fix this.
