He sent this blinding smile my way before leaving the room for a couple of minutes.

When he returned, there were two giant plates, if it could even be considered plates, of meat, b.l.o.o.d.y and raw in all of its freshest and finest nature.

My eyes widened immeasurably at the amount until I remembered that he was a werewolf and not a human.

I give him a slight glance before attempting to finish my food.

I am certain that Eros didn't want to ruin my meal by eating in front of me and instead waited to eat when I wasn't watching.

No one has ever been this considerate of me.

Suddenly, Eros laughs this deep laugh that catches me off guard because of my slight grimace when he swallowed that first mouthful of b.l.o.o.d.y meat.

Truthfully, I've never seen anyone eat raw meat as gracefully and eloquently as Eros had.

Here I am with steak sauce all over my lips and chin while he is looking impeccably perfect without a drop of blood anywhere on his face or clothes from his meal that looked way messier than mine.

How does he do that?

"Are you okay?" He slowly cuts a chunk of that meat and puts it into his mouth, blue eyes s.h.i.+ning with mirth and amus.e.m.e.nt deep in its depths.

He better not be poking fun at me.

"Mm-hm. I'll get used to it," I managed to say.

Just as I bit down on a piece of asparagus, I am suddenly reminded that he's kissed me with that mouth of his and it makes me slightly apprehensive now.

.

.

.

"Out of curiosity, how old are you?" I asked Eros one evening out of genuine curiosity.

Werewolf age is very difficult to pinpoint.

You can't judge their age just by their face like you do humans.

It would be impossible because their life span was much much longer than a regular human's lifespan.

Some live for thousands of years, or even longer.

As scary and impossible as that sounds, it is possible.

"Close. Over 900," he finally replied, gauging my reaction with that handsome curl of his brow and lips.

Did I mishear that?

Did he just say he's over 900 years old?

Eros is probably older than my whole family tree.

"How is that close?" I glare at him from the corner of my eye. "You're old."

I wrinkled my nose in distaste while combing out my messy head of hair.

Glancing into the mirror of the new vanity he had someone bring yesterday, I watched his eyes follow my movement.

Ever since I 'moved' in with him, the room had changed quite a bit.

I would like to think that there was a more feminine feel to it now.

"I'm actually in my prime years." He pursed his lips, pretending to be offended. I doubted he was with that sinfully decadent smirk on his lips.

Prime?

If 900 is considered prime years than I don't know anymore.

"What about Granny Ada or Rora?"

My curiosity got the better of me.

How old would Granny Ada be if she was his grandmother? Over 1000 years old right?

"Grandmother is over 1800 years old and Rora is over 100, barely a pup."

Well.

That really explains it now.

"I bet it gets long. What do you do all these years to stay sane?" I asked.

It probably gets very lonely, especially for someone who has lived for hundreds of years like him.

I don't know what I would do if I actually lived that long.

There are only certain things that you can do before you become bored, like playing monopoly for so long that you want to get into jail just to stop playing.

"Continue living. But I have you to keep me company now. And I can't think of anyone else I'd rather spend the rest of my life with," he said.

I could hear a hint of loneliness and longing in his voice that wasn't easy to discern.

It is obvious that my human life span pales in comparison to his.