I set the water and OJ on the counter by our glasses and bowed my head. My long, wet hair hung around my face in dark, clumpy strands. “I’m thirty-eight years old.”

“You don’t look a day over eighteen.”

I turned to face him, my lower back resting against the counter. “Exactly. For the rest of my life, this is what I’ll look like.” I swept a hand down my body, Vanna White–ing myself. “An eternal teenager. It’s super fantastic.” Especially the hormones—that was my absolute favorite part.

“I can think of worse things, but . . . is that normal for your kind?” Garth’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head to the side. “Your sister looks older, like in her twenties. So does Nik.”

“It’s not normal,” I said, laughing under my breath and shaking my head. “There was an accident. Or, not really an accident, but a matter of life and death. Lex was being held prisoner, and—well, it’s a long story. We had to force my Nejeret traits to manifest early. Thus”—I held my arms up, posing—“me. Like this. Forever. Perma-jailbait.”

Garth’s expression was serious as he studied my face. He leaned his hip against the opposite counter, crossing his arms over his chest.

I fought the urge to squirm under his scrutiny.

A twinkle sparked in his eye, and I knew the seriousness was fading from the moment. Final-fucking-ly. “You could try out for To Catch a Predator,” Garth said. “They could use you as bait until, oh, say, the end of time.”

My lips twitched, and I eyed him through my lashes.

“Imagine the pedophiles’ reactions when they find out you’re really two hundred years old . . .”

My chest convulsed, and a laugh slipped out. “Stop it,” I said, kicking him lightly with my bare toes.

He grinned and turned back to the food on the stove. “I can see how that would be annoying, though, at least where dating is concerned. I’d imagine going out with people your own age is off the table.”

I snorted. “You have no idea.” After a moment, I added, “The tattoos help keep away most guys looking for a girl to fulfill their creeptastic fantasies. It’s hard to look overly innocent when you’re covered in ink.”

Garth nodded as I spoke. “Your attitude helps, too.”

I scoffed. “Attitude? Me?”

He laughed, moving a spatula around a pan filled with scrambling eggs.

I filled up our glasses, then put the water and OJ back in the fridge.

“Go ahead and grab a seat,” Garth said, lifting the egg pan from the stove and carrying it over to our plates. He dumped a pretty good pile onto each plate, leaving some in the pan. In no time, both plates were loaded up with a whole lot of everything, and there was still food in reserve. My kind of meal.

I sat on one of the stools, munching on a strip of extra-crispy bacon.

“So,” Garth said as he sat beside me, “why were you stalking me tonight?”