Sin
The ballroom glittered, light glancing off the gilded edges of the chandeliers, the reflections flickering across masked faces.
Magical orbs hovered like will-o’-the-wisps, casting a strange luminescence across writhing bodies.
Opulent gowns glimmered, and mouths laughed just before plunging into the darker corners—where moans and gasps of pleasure intermingled with the crack of a whip.
Aprons and frills heavily contrasting with the scandalous gowns and exposed bodies. Every now and then, a servant would be swayed into the merriment, like they couldn’t keep their hands off their uniforms like wrapping paper.
Every movement she made seemed to draw his focus, the invisible thread between them tightening until it felt like it might snap.
She cursed him silently, her heart pounding, hating how much she wanted to look for him in the chaos of the room.
But she didn’t dare—she couldn’t afford to let herself fall into that dark pull, not when everything inside her screamed for control.
She cursed herself for falling for him, for giving in to the first male who had made her feel seen.
It hurt too much to acknowledge him now, surrounded by the same debauchery that had drawn them together the first time.
Asshole, she thought as another zip of awareness buzzed through her chest, smug and arrogant.
Max hadn’t left with anyone. He stayed near the familiar table in the middle of the ballroom, where food and wine were piled high, the focal point of the indulgence. Sin could feel his presence, a dark, magnetic pull, but she kept her focus elsewhere.
She needed to leave. The tension was too much.
As she wove through the crowd, her gaze caught on a scene that made her pulse quicken.
A woman stood before a small crowd. She held a whip in her hand, her posture commanding as she stood in front of a naked male suspended in the air.
His back and legs were covered in angry lashes.
Another woman with a collar knelt in front of him, bobbing his dick in her mouth.
The male moaned loudly, and unabashedly, his voice echoing off the walls, making several others around Sin chuckle.
The crack of the whip split the air, and Sin flinched as though it had struck her skin.
Her eyes were drawn to it—the leather curling and snapping like a serpent, wielded with power and grace.
She remembered the sting, the helplessness that followed.
But now, there was something else—a sliver of envy for the woman holding it, the power she commanded with each movement.
Her fingers itched, tightening involuntarily. She imagined the handle against her palm, the sensation of control flowing from her fingertips to the room itself, her voice becoming the one that made others tremble.
What would it feel like to have that kind of control? To make someone like Max submit? Her thoughts spun with the idea. And then—
Sin couldn’t bear it any longer. She needed to leave.
As she made her way out, she accidentally bumped into someone—a woman, standing impossibly close. Her flawless skin seemed to glow under the candlelight, her expression shifting to one of horror.
“What in the name of the gods could have done that to you?” the stranger breathed, her hand pressed against her chest in shock.
Sin smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes, and walked away, unable to answer her.
That was it. She was done.
“You should runaway while you have the chance.”
Before she could leave the floor, Oliver appeared. His grip was rough, his arrogance unmistakable as he spun her without asking.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, scowling at him.
He pulled her against him, and the smile he gave her was all sharp teeth.
“I’ve always wondered what made my big brother so obsessed with you,” he whispered, his voice brushing against her ear, making her full-body cringe.
“Tell me, little sinner, is it your defiance?” He spun her in a mocking dance step, his other hand pressing against her lower back, forcing her closer.
“Or is it the way you beg?” He leaned in, his lips brushing her temple, and Sin’s heart pounded with a mix of fury and fear.
She needed to escape, but his grip was unyielding, and the crowded room offered no refuge.
“It amazes me,” he started. “The different versions of you I’ve seen.”
Sin swallowed, fighting the memories his words stirred up, how everyone in the ballroom had seen Max feasting on her.
“And I have to say,” he dipped her low before bringing her back up. “I think I prefer this version better.”
She forced a huff of a laugh to hide the nervousness she felt. “I find that difficult to believe.”
“It’s true.” They spun, and she struggled to keep up with him. “Everyone says the fae covet pretty things. I find flawlessness boring. You have grit, and my father was foolish to keep you as a slave and not a witch at his command. You could do great things outside of this castle, little sinner.”
“Don’t call me that,” it came out before she could stop it.
“But that is what you are. Don’t think I don’t remember the look on your face when you came for my brother.”
Her eyes widened at his in shock over his words. “Those were different circumstances. I thought that was my last meal.”
The brother’s laugh grated against her ears, cold and mocking, each sound like a twisted blade.
He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her skin.
“And now, little sinner?” His smile faltered for just a moment, a flicker of something other than malice crossing his eyes—envy, maybe, or frustration.
“What are you desperate for this time? Starving again, perhaps? Or is it someone else you’re hungry for?
” His tone turned mocking, but Sin could sense the bitterness beneath his words, a hint of resentment that made her stomach churn.
She tensed, his words grating her into fighting the urge to hit him.
He leaned forward, bringing his lips to her ear. “You can call me Max, if you want,” He cupped her cheek tenderly, as if he said the sweetest words. “Though I think I’d prefer it if you called me My Prince.”
She growled. “I won’t be calling you my anything.”
His gaze roamed over her, lingering with cruel intent. The weight of his words pressed into her, making her pulse quicken, but she forced herself to hold her ground, the bitter taste of his words fueling her anger.
Her breath caught, her anger bubbling beneath the surface. She tried to shove him away, but his grip only tightened.
His grip turned painful, cruel. She shoved at him, her chest tightening with a mix of fear and rage. The youngest brother Gideon approached, frowning as he noticed her distress.
“Get off me,” she growled.
Oliver smirked. “Or what? You can’t refuse a prince.”
“Yes, she fucking can.” Max’s voice was low, a deadly current that rippled through the room.
Sin shivered at the cold intensity in his words. Max’s hand dropped to the hilt of his sword, the metal gleaming faintly in the dim light of the ballroom. “Now get your hands off my mate.”
The ballroom stilled, the air thick with tension as all eyes turned to the brothers. Oliver froze, his arrogant smile faltering at the word mate, as if it were a reminder he didn’t appreciate. His hand twitched, loosening on Sin’s arm.
Then, with a snarl, Oliver lunged, but Max sidestepped with a deadly precision.
The first clash of their swords sent sparks flying—tiny red embers, drifting like fireflies before fading to ash.
Sin’s heart leapt into her throat as her eyes locked on one of those embers, watching it fall slowly, as if the world had drawn a deep breath and paused.
She watched until the ember blinked out on the polished marble, and with it, the thin illusion of control seemed to vanish.
The world crashed back into motion—steel meeting steel, grunts of fury echoing off the walls.
The ballroom around them blurred, but Sin couldn’t tear her eyes away from Max—each movement more deliberate, more savage than the last. Nobles scattered, retreating to the edges of the room as the two brothers engaged in their deadly dance.
Max fought with a savage ferocity, but Oliver also moved like a predator, his snake-shifter abilities giving him the same fluidity as Max.
Their strikes were quick, each motion sharp and deliberate.
Max’s pupils, now narrow slits, gleamed faintly in the dim light as he moved with deadly intent, his reflexes too sharp, too precise for his brother to keep up.
Sin stood frozen at the edge of the clearing crowd, her breath caught in her throat.
Max’s movements were terrifyingly swift, his strikes landing with calculated force.
Oliver barely had time to defend himself, each block becoming more desperate under the relentless onslaught, his form beginning to waver.
And then, with a brutal flick of his wrist, Max disarmed him, sending his sword clattering across the marble floor.
The room fell deathly silent as Max didn’t hesitate.
He dropped his sword, tackling his brother to the ground, fists raised, and his first punch connected with a sickening crack.
Oliver’s head snapped back, blood spraying across the polished floor.
But Max wasn’t finished.
With a roar of fury, he brought his fist down again, a devastating blow that left his brother dazed.
The crowd remained frozen, stunned into silence, as Max’s bloodied knuckles collided again and again with Oliver’s face.
Blood dripped from his knuckles, splattering crimson onto the marble beneath them.
“Max…” Sin’s voice was barely a whisper, but it was enough to break through the haze of his rage.
Max stilled, his fist still hovering in the air. Slowly, his breathing began to steady, and at the sound of her voice, his pupils began to dilate, returning to normal. He blinked, as if becoming aware of the world again.
Max slowly rose to his feet, stepping back from his unconscious brother. His chest heaved with the exertion, his knuckles dripping blood. The ballroom was eerily quiet, every eye locked on him, but he didn’t care. His focus was on her—on Sin.
Max wiped the blood from his knuckles, and Sin felt her breath catch in her throat.
The ballroom, which had been filled with gasps moments before, seemed to fade into the background, the crowd blurring around her.
She watched Max approach, the rage still simmering beneath the surface of his movements.
It was terrifying—and yet, she couldn’t deny the pull.
A part of her wanted to run, but her feet stayed rooted as he reached for her, his gaze never leaving hers.
In a matter of seconds, Max was all that she could see. Soft green eyes revealed the prince, her mate, beneath the veneer—the true side of him that caused others to underestimate him.
How she wished for a moment that she could be the one protecting him, if only so he wouldn’t fear taking off the mask—the courtier’s mask.
Max reached his hand out to hers, the blood putting a crack in their spell.
Sin grabbed onto his hand, flipping it over to assess the damage, but his fae healing was already staunching the blood.
A heavy exhale left Sin’s lips, only to be caught in her throat as Max pulled her close.
The crowd parted as Max led her to the center of the ballroom, and before she could protest, he spun her into his arms, pulling her into a dance.
Oliver was being carried away as the music swelled, filling the room once more, but all Sin could focus on was Max—his hand at her waist, his other hand cradling hers, guiding her effortlessly through the steps.
Max’s hand on her waist was both a promise and a command, his grip firm as he spun her into his arms. Sin felt the heat of his body, the strength in every movement as he guided her through the dance.
His eyes bore into hers, and she could see the emotions swirling within him—possession, adoration, something deeper she didn’t want to name. Each step was a battle, each twirl a test of how much she could hold herself back, even as her body betrayed her and moved with his.
She tried to focus on the steps, on the rhythm of the music, but all she could feel was the heat of his body, the strength in his hands, the possessiveness in his gaze. It was overwhelming, and yet, in that moment, she couldn’t pull away.
The dance grew faster, Max twirling her with precision, leaving no room for hesitation.
Her heart pounded in time with the quickening rhythm, but it wasn’t the music that set her pulse racing—it was Max.
His hand slid up her back, his fingers pressing into her skin, guiding her with an authority that was far from abhorrent, until he cradled her face in his hand.
Sin stopped breathing, body tensing for what was to come after.
Max’s hand slipped from her cheek, his fingers trailing down her arm before releasing her completely.
Sin stepped back, her skin still tingling with the heat of his touch.
She took in a shaky breath, her eyes darting away from him, desperate for space—for the air that seemed to vanish whenever he was too close.
The ballroom continued to move around them, the murmurs and music slowly growing again, but to her, everything felt muffled—distant.
Her eyes flicked towards the door, her heart pounding as she tried to gather her composure.
She needed to leave, to put distance between herself and whatever spell Max was weaving over her.