Page 232 of Sinister

“You think so?” He raises a brow. “Ah, darling girl, I don’t think you know me too well.”

His words are supposed to be playful, but instead, I find myself frowning. “Meaning?”

“I will make sure you’re never out of sight,” he replies vaguely.

Once more, my suspicions poke their nasty heads to the surface.

I let out a dry laugh. “So, what, you’re going to become my shadow?” I ask pointedly.

“I am your shadow, Petra. I’m just waiting for the moment when you will embrace me instead of seeking to get away from me.”

My lashes flutter in surprise. Is that an admission? Is he admitting that he is past-Sin and he has those shadowy powers? And what does he mean about me trying to get away from him?

Before I react, his hands move to my waist, and he cups the small bump.

“How is our little miracle doing today?” he asks in a gentle voice, a total change from the intensity of his tone before.

“Uhm, good,” I mumble.

“Any cravings? I got you some fruit and snacks.”

“No, I’m fine for now.”

With a tense smile, I wiggle out of his arms and resume my place next to him on the couch. His eyes follow me with exact precision as well as a frightening intensity that seems to disappear whenever I gaze at him head-on.

Odd. Everything is odd. And I am more confused than ever. After spending my entire teenage years daydreaming about morally ambiguous love interests, leave it to me to find a potential murderer/immortal/psycho.

He must see the slight change in my demeanor, but he doesn’t comment on it. He simply keeps his arm around my shoulders, holding me close.

I pick up the piece of paper off the ground, and as I look at the random years, another question comes to mind.

“Don’t you think something’s off about this?” I ask before I can stop myself.

“What do you mean?”

“You said the town believes this so-called Ouroboros Society, or the descendants of those five families, commits ritual murders every couple of decades or so. But there’s nothing here that shows any clear timeline. Nothing to suggest a pattern that fits that theory.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Maybe this entire thing, the lore about the society, is just a smokescreen. A convenient story that lets people ignore the things that don’t fit. If you expect something to happen every couple of decades, then you dismiss anything that happens in between.”

“That makes sense,” he says slowly. “But then why blame the five families? Why point the finger at them?”

“Jealousy, maybe? Your families are the most powerful ones in town. Possibly even on the East Coast. People don’t like what they can’t control—and they hate those who have more.

“More so,” I continue, “why would families with that much power choose to stay in a place like Radcliffe? A small, insignificant town?”

He nods thoughtfully. “You’re right. Something isn’t right.” He leans forward to look at the list. He’s so close, his scent wafts to me. I lick my lips in response.

Get a grip, Petra! my inner voice screams at me—and she’s right.

Just seconds ago, I was wondering whether he might be a psychopath, and now I am once more ready to jump on him just because he got a little closer.

Fuck! I am in so much trouble. Worse is that I cannot explain why I am so infatuated with him. Sure, I could blame a part of it on hormones, but even before . . .

The night we first slept together, I acted completely out of character. I can blame it on the alcohol all I want, but I know there was more to it than that. I liked his attention, the way he listened to me, the way he looked at me. It’s almost as if he put me under a spell—one that’s only become more potent with every interaction.

Maybe it’s my inexperience speaking since he is my first . . . well, everything. But I doubt it. I’ve seen beautiful people before. I’ve never once entertained the thought of doing with them what I did with him.