I’ve lived too long…
And I don’t just mean years or decades. I’m talking millenia.
It’s exhausting.
I almost never meet anyone even half my age, and when I do, they’re crazy, evil, or both.
But I don’t want to get involved with a mortal. Been there, done that, and even a couple of decades of fun isn’t worth the agony afterward.
So why am I messing around with this lone wolf? Sure, he and his lattes are smoking hot. And his pastries are to die for. I can’t help imagining the way those talented fingers would feel on my skin.
But he seems to be measuring his time in days, not decades.
I know better than to fall for a guy who isn’t planning on being around next week, let alone next century.
Don’t I?
I guess not. Because I’ve never felt anything like this.
If I don’t get my sweet, stupid, shifter out of the mess he’s made for himself, I may just discover something I’ve never experienced before.
Eternal heartbreak.
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