Sinister: The Immortal's Curse.

Chapter two

"Hm... what a beautiful sunrise."

The words escaped me as I made my way through the quiet halls of the mansion. The first rays of dawn filtered through the towering windows, casting ribbons of gold across the polished marble floors.

Reaching my bedroom, I slipped inside and quietly locked the door behind me.

Leaning against the solid oak, I released a long, exhausted sigh.

What a day.

Pushing myself upright, I glanced around the room.

Everything was exactly as I'd left it.

A pristine white leather sofa sat before the fireplace, contrasting against the deep crimson carpet that stretched across the floor. Matching velvet curtains framed the tall windows, while a massive black-canopied bed dominated the center of the room. My desk stood perfectly organized, every paper aligned with meticulous precision, and the walk-in wardrobe beyond held centuries' worth of tailored gowns and designer clothing.

Order.

Just the way I preferred it.

I reached behind my back and unzipped my sapphire gown, letting the fabric pool around my feet before stepping free of it. My heels followed, discarded neatly beside the wardrobe.

Wrapped only in my undergarments, I crossed into the adjoining bathroom.

With practiced ease, I turned the silver faucet, filling the marble bathtub with steaming water scented faintly with lavender.

For a brief moment...

Peace.

Then I felt it.

Someone else was in the room.

I didn't bother turning around.

"Prowler," I said evenly, "how many times must I tell you not to sneak into my house?"

Silence answered me.

Then came a familiar chuckle.

"You know," he said, "most people would start with 'hello.'"

I finally looked over my shoulder.

He stood casually against the doorway as though he owned the place, his arms folded across his broad chest. His blond hair caught the morning light, and his mismatched eyes—one emerald green, the other an icy blue—watched me with unmistakable amusement.

"You have no business being here."

"I disagree."

His grin widened.

"I think my business is standing right in front of me."

I rolled my eyes.

"You never know when to stop."

"Not when it comes to you."

He stepped closer, entirely too confident for his own good.

"I've been thinking about you."

"I sincerely doubt that's all you've been thinking about."

A laugh escaped him.

"You know me too well."

"I know enough."

I reached for my silk robe and slipped it over my shoulders, tying the sash firmly around my waist.

"What exactly do you hope to accomplish by breaking into my bedroom?"

"I was hoping you'd finally admit we're meant to be together."

I stared at him.

"Prowler..."

"You know how I feel."

"I know you're persistent."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

He sighed dramatically before running a hand through his hair.

"Sini... I love you."

His words lingered in the air between us.

I shook my head.

"You're a charmer, a liar, and a notorious flirt. Why would I ever trust a man who leaves a trail of broken hearts everywhere he goes?"

His playful smile faltered for the first time.

"Because you're different."

"I've heard that before."

"No," he replied quietly. "Not from me."

He wandered back into the bedroom and dropped onto the edge of my bed with an exaggerated sigh.

Watching him, I couldn't deny the obvious.

Prowler was handsome.

His athletic frame, effortless confidence, and striking mismatched eyes had earned him attention almost everywhere he went. Wealth and power followed him just as naturally as trouble did.

Unfortunately...

So did women.

Far too many women.

That was precisely why I refused to believe a word that came out of his mouth.

"I don't have time for a relationship," I said.

"You always say that."

"Because it's true."

"You've hidden behind duty for centuries."

"And you've hidden behind charm."

He laughed.

"I suppose we're both guilty of something."

His gaze drifted toward the window where the early sunlight continued to brighten the room.

"I can't leave until nightfall."

"I assumed as much."

"So..."

He leaned back comfortably against the headboard.

"I'll be borrowing your hospitality."

"You mean trespassing."

"I prefer 'unexpected guest.'"

"I prefer 'uninvited nuisance.'"

A grin spread across his face.

"There she is."

"There who is?"

"The Sinister I like."

I folded my arms across my chest.

"Don't mistake tolerance for affection."

"Never."

He smiled warmly.

"But I haven't given up hope."

I shook my head, unable to suppress the faintest hint of amusement.

Some things, it seemed, never changed.