THE CURSE OF LUST
I said coldly, "that I'm more than four hundred years old. I had time to forget. And, for the record, I was fine—until Julian."
His eyes darkened. He leaned closer, trying to steady his voice.
"So maybe you should be with him. With Julian. If he broke through to you, if he—"
"There!" I cut him off, heat spiking in my chest. "That's what I mean. Jealousy. Like your bloody son. You think it's about him? That's my curse. My fault."
Anger snapped between us like sparks. He tried to control his breathing, but his eyes gave him away. I stood, pacing, words spilling bitter and sharp.