Julian studied the tattoo carefully, his eyes narrowing. The design seemed to radiate a faint, restrained power, similar in nature to his own slave mark.
As his gaze lingered, Beatrix broke the silence with a dry remark. "Don't stare at it like some pervert."
Julian's voice came low and edged. "Who marked you?"
Beatrix's expression stiffened, her tone firm. "I can't answer that. If I do, the mark will activate, and I'll be dead before I finish the sentence."
Julian tilted his head slightly, considering her. Then he asked, "Can I touch it?"
Her brows lifted in surprise, and she gave a short, almost amused laugh. "That wasn't part of the request."
Julian didn't flinch. "I won't know if you're lying unless I test it myself. For all I know, this symbol could be nothing but a trick."
Beatrix's lips quirked into a half-smile, though her eyes stayed sharp. "And what exactly do you think you'll learn from touching it?"
