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“Then there was 1903, when I bought my first car. It was incredible, but nothing like what we have today,” he smirks.
I can only image what that smirk implies. I’m sure he has a garage full of cars somewhere, based on the enthusiasm he’s showing now. An image pops into my mind of a carefree Julian, driving a red BMW convertible with the top down through the countryside. A smile graces my lips at the image.
“My favorite, though, was 1994.”
My breath hitches.The year I was born.There is nothing incredibly memorable from 1994—with the exception of OJ and some pretty killer songs being released. No, 1994 is definitely not a year that most would remember as being one of the best ever. So, what could Julian Bellamy possibly have gotten up to?
“Why?” I’m holding my breath awaiting his answer. A part of me hopes that something about my birth made it his favorite year, but that would be so inconsequential for an immortal. Someone who has lived for hundreds of years would surely find more important things to remember. Besides, he didn’t know me until the auction. I haven’t spoken of his father’s diary, because I’m not sure how he would react to my snooping and honestly, it’s not worth discussing until I have solved the riddle of what it even means.
Julian continues to stare at me, not saying a word. His gaze is hard and unyielding—as though he’s trying to make out the words in his head before he speaks them.
“It was just a feeling I had,” he starts, running his hands down his face. “It was like waking for the first time. Colors less dull, sounds sharper, my sense of smell more acute. I don’t know, it was... living.”
“One day you just woke up and things were better?” I say doubtfully.
“Yes,” he insists. “It was like being reborn. I remember the exact day.”
Everything hangs in the balance as I wait for him to continue. It’s as though I’m standing at the edge of an airplane door, thirteen thousand feet above land, waiting to free-fall into the air. My stomach tightens, and my breathing becomes heavy.
“You do?” I whisper, feeling light-headed.
“April 13, 1994.”
I gasp, hands flying up to cover my mouth.My birthday.He saidmybirthday.
Tingles start in my toes and work their way up my body, warming me as they go. This has to mean something. It’s too many coincidences. It’s starting to make sense why his father thought it could be us. Triplets born on the day at least one of his sons changed.
At that thought, the tingles cease, the muscles in my face relax, and dread fills me. If only Mr. Bellamy were here today to see what a disappointment we turned out to be. The only thing Julian will get from me is type O. I bleed like everyone else, and it’s nothing special. I push all my energy into keeping him out of my head. I’m not sure if it will work, but some part of me believes I have more power than I know.
“Marina, what’s wrong?” Julian asks, coming to my side, concern lacing his voice.
It worked. Oh my god, it seems to really have worked.
I’m not ready to admit out loud that I fear his father died in vain. If the secret he was harboring involved my sisters and me, then what a massive waste of a legend we were.
“Look at me,” he commands, lifting my chin so that our eyes meet. “Whatever is going on in that pretty little head of yours, stop it. I can’t read your mind and it’s killing me because I can tell it’s eating you up inside.”
I blink, slowly, frowning all the while. “April 13, 1994, is my birthday.”
He smiles. “Definitely my favorite.”
My ears warm at his flirtatious tone.
“You don’t find any of this strange?” I ask. “You had some sort of rebirth on my birthday?”
He frowns. “Many things are strange, Marina, but I’m not sure what you’re insinuating.”
I want to tell him what I’m thinking, but I don’t. There’s still too much I need to uncover.
“Come here,” he says, pulling me up from my chair and into his lap.
Since the night at the club, we haven’t been close enough for intimacy. If anything, I’m still licking my wounds at being rejected—even if it was for my own good. Julian stopping things from going any further the other night stung. My body was on fire for him, but he resisted so easily.
“Now you want me?” I snap, allowing all my lingering self-doubt to surface.
He groans. “Marina, stop.”
I turn in his lap so we’re facing each other once again. I narrow my eyes at him, although I’m not mad.
