Page 233 of Sinister

His face is next to mine. He turns slightly and smiles at me before he rubs his cheek against mine affectionately.

My heart almost stops in my chest. My breathing certainly becomes incapacitated as I hold myself still.

Good Lord! Something is seriously wrong with me.

Perhaps it’s that mark on my chest. Past-Sin mentioned it’s the physical manifestation of our bond. Maybe it does something to my mind?

My eyes suddenly widen in realization.

Wait a moment! If I have the mark now, he should have it, too.

“Take your clothes off!” I blurt out.

He blinks in confusion before a slow smirk appears on his face.

“So commanding. I like it,” he drawls as he pulls back and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

I wait with bated breath for the confirmation of all my theories, but as he shrugs his shirt off to reveal his muscled chest, there’s . . . nothing.

No mark. No blemish.

He could be hiding it from me, though, right?

He starts unzipping his pants, and for a moment, all thoughts leave me.

I gulp down, stirrings of desire taking hold of me.

Slowly, he pulls his pants down until he’s only wearing his underwear. The hard outline of his cock is unmistakable. He’s ready for me.

I’m ready for him, too . . .

Sweat beads on my brow as indecision gnaws at me.

For once, though, I refuse to let my physical urges cloud my mind—though that’s easier said than done.

I force myself to my feet before this can go any further, and with a string of unintelligible mutters, I dash toward the bathroom.

66

PETRA

I didn’t expect to be back home so soon, but after evading Sin one too many times, I realized I needed an excuse to get out of the situation. Not just because it would be so easy to give in, but because the more I think about it, the more suspicions I have—about him, about everything.

I wonder if he noticed something was off with me. Maybe he did. I don’t really have a good poker face. Never have, never will. I’m already dreading our next meeting—when he asks me what’s wrong, and I’ll have to lie.

I release a deep breath and strip off my clothes to hop in the shower. I scrub myself clean, apply some perfume and lotion, and afterward, I realize I’m getting a bit too hungry. Maybe I should’ve eaten what Sin brought, but that would’ve given him more time to grill me.

Curious, I check the fridge. Knowing my parents and their sporadic visits, and considering how absent I’ve also been, I doubt there’s much inside.

Sure enough, most of the food is expired.

Damn it.

I guess my only option is to order something. But just as I grab my phone to browse delivery options, the front door clicks open, and my parents strut in, luggage in hand. My mother walks in first, followed by my father—both dressed to the nines despite having just gotten off a flight.

“Petra,” my mother intones. “It’s so good to see you.”

I give her a forced smile. That’s not something a parent should say to their child—especially not when they technically live with said child.