Mated To Valentine
“Nah. I’m too young to settle down.”
I raise a brow. “Achilles. You’re almost a hundred years old.”
He corrects me smoothly. “Over a hundred.”
I stare at him. “And I’m the one in love?”
He shrugs, completely unbothered.
Just then, I hear the soft creak of a door opening.
We both turn toward the sound.
Valentine steps into the kitchen, his golden hair damp, curling slightly at the ends.
He’s freshly showered, a loose shirt hanging off his frame, and his sharp golden eyes lock onto me immediately.