Page 110 of Ghost
Birthmarks—to my knowledge—weren’t supposed to have their own pulse.
Damen’s was the same. My fingers barely touched it, and I could feel the familiar pounding underneath. If it was like mine, only a direct touch could bring it out. And it was a separate thing from his heartbeat, which I was certain raced as fast as my own.
I didn’t understand.
“Why do you have my—” My voice, which had been weak, was cut off as Damen pulled me to him.
“Damen.” Julian moved beside me, and nervousness radiated in the air between the two of them. “How can she—”
“I don’t know.” Damen sounded as if he was in awe, and also scared to death. “I don’t know. I know what I saw, but…”
“Bianca,” Julian stroked the back of my hair. He was touching me again, and my heart sang. “Darling, can we please see your mark?”
This time the suggestion didn’t sound so bad. It was obvious that whatever was happening was bigger than Damen copping a feel.
I pushed away, sitting with my back against the couch. The three of them were almost frozen with tension, and their gazes had yet to leave my form. It was almost unnerving.
My hands shook under the weight of expectation. “Okay…”
The air was still as I pulled my shirt up, only stopping once the swell under my left breast was visible.
Chapter Forty
Bianca
Power
Normally I would have reacted at having three men stare at my chest with abject fascination. But it was obvious they weren’t even interested at that part of my anatomy.
Instead they stared at the inch of skin showing under my breast. I had lifted my bra slightly, only enough for my mark to show.
“What’s…” Julian moved closer, his finger brushing over my skin. He didn’t even seem to realize he was technically touching my boob. “Have you always had this?”
He had asked me, obviously. And was referring to the tiny, almost crossed-shaped symbol on my own. But I couldn’t answer him.
The second he had touched the mark it became difficult to think—to breathe. A strange sensation began to spread through my chest. It felt new, as if a missing piece in my life had fallen into place.
Yet, something about this situation seemed familiar.
“Yes.” My voice was soft. “I’ve had it as long as I can remember.”
“Damen.” Julian’s gaze drifted from his hand to Damen, who was crouched beside us.
Meanwhile, Miles had returned to the armchair. His chin braced in his hands as he looked on. It was impossible to read how he felt.
“What does this mean?” Julian asked, sounding lost.
“What it looks like, I imagine.” Damen’s expression was resigned. “Someone has a lot of explaining to do.”
“What?” I pressed against the couch. This was not the reaction I had hoped for. Not after Damen—and the others—had seemed almost excited before. “Is something wrong?”
The boys, who had been looking at each other, returned their focus back to me.
“My mark is the symbol of the xing. I was born with it.” Damen gestured toward his own chest. “We all have our own, representing our elements. Yours, of course, is the symbol for the Wood element—”
“What?” I wasn’t certain that I heard him right.
“It makes sense,” Julian contemplated. “I know that you spoke only in theory about her being the xing… But now that it’s true, we know that we’ve barely scratched the surface of her abilities.”
