The Tattoo Artist (La Petite Mort #1)

7. Chapter 7

seven

Quinn

I t had been a week since I last saw Alexander and even longer since I last saw Deimos. This whole week has been torture. I'd been craving the thrill and excitement I felt that day with Alexander. Being around him was liberating and refreshing. It was the best day of my life—well, it was the second best day because seeing Deimos again was my first.

School started two days ago, which meant my closing shifts at the local library started. This was my last year of further education before I could attend a university since I had completed key stage 4 when I was sixteen. Unfortunately, I attended further education in the only Catholic school that offered such a program.

Thankfully, though, I no longer had to live on campus, and because of that, I was able to continue working at the library. I loved working at the library because it allowed me access to all the audiobooks and the opportunity to read all the books I wanted. It made it easier since I knew my parents wouldn't want me reading books with any sexual content.

Getting ready for work, I grabbed my coat and set it on the bed since I worked the closing shift, which meant I would be out late and it would be freezing cold. I stared at my outfit one last time.

"So, where were you last Saturday?" Sophie questioned. I raised a brow and turned around to see her on my bed, flipping through a fashion magazine.

"What do you mean?" I asked, playing dumb, hoping she would drop it. She threw the magazine back onto my bedside table, standing up and giving her a direct view of my paintbrushes and canvases. She analyzed the scene before her, almost like she was looking for her answer.

"Well, my sweet Quinn, I came to your house, and no one answered, " she pointed out.

"I went to the museum," I stated. Her eyes widened, and her head jerked back.

"My little rebel. You went after your father told you no," she replied proudly. I nodded my head and went into the en-suite to grab my hair brush.

"You're hiding something," Sophie followed me.

"Quinn! Spill," she ordered.

"When I went to the museum, I saw him—" I paused .

"Deimos," she whispered. I shook my head, and Sophie urged me to continue.

"No, Alexander. I saw Alexander. He asked to see my sketchbook and saw a drawing I had done of him. I forgot I had drawn Alex—" I didn't finish my sentence since I didn't want her to know that I had two different sketchbooks, one filled with Deimos and now Alexander.

I told her the rest of the story about how he offered to help me find inspiration. "And when we got there, he started painting, and he pan—" I didn't even get to finish because Sophie started questioning me.

"Alexander? You spent the whole day with Alexander?" she asked, shocked.

"Yes, he's actually quite nice to be around," I said as I looked at myself in the mirror, adjusting my ponytail before I crouched down to tie my shoelaces and fix my socks that passed over the knee. I stood up and looked at Sophie once again.

"But what about your parents? You're not allowed to be alone with the opposite sex," she spat out, her voice raised.I covered her mouth so my parents wouldn't hear her.

"Shhh, thin walls, remember."

She gave me the stink eye. "I told you to stay away from him. Quinn, Alexander fucks around with girls, and once he has sex with them, he leaves them. Do you want to be another tally to his bedpost and end up like them?"

"The Hades brothers are pigs," she muttered.

I shook my head no. "No. Of course not. But Sophie, it's not like that." I said, hoping to God that she was wrong about Alexander.

"Really? Then why are you hanging out with him? Huh." She said with a look on her face that said she didn't believe a word I just said . And for some reason, the feeling of anger started to bubble inside me.

"What exactly is your issue, Sophie? Huh! Are you jealous or something because you want to fuck him? Don't worry, he is only a friend. So if you excuse me, I have to get to work. I'll take the bus." I said.

I wanted to be left alone. Sophie was supposed to take me, but honestly, I was surprised that she was acting like this. Something was definitely going on with her. So annoyingly overprotective. I didn't understand why she was acting this way, especially because she always teased me that I would die a virgin. But now, when a man paid attention to me, she got defensive. I grabbed my backpack and stuffed my sketchbook inside, along with sharpened pencils, the same paint brushes that Deimos had touched, and a few tubes of acrylic paint.

I grabbed my coat and slipped it over my left arm before heading downstairs. I could hear and feel Sophie behind me. "Quinn, I'm sorry. I just don't want to see you get hurt," she said as she grabbed my arm before I reached the stairs. I turned my head, and I could see the genuine concern on her face. I didn't like to fight with her; she was my only friend, and I cared about her.

"How could he possibly hurt me? Sophie, you don't need to worry. I don't like him like that… he only helped me. Plus, don't forget about my obsession with Deimos." I said with a laugh, thankful my parents are currently downstairs.

She jiggled her keys in front of me with a hopeful look on her face as she offered to drive me to work.

I sighed and gave in.

My father was in the living room watching the news, and my mother was reading the Bible. I said my goodbyes to both of them and walked out of the house, locking the door behind me. I slipped inside the car, and she drove me to the library.

We arrived at the library fifteen minutes later. I stepped out of the car, and she rolled her window down as I shut the door. "Do you need me to pick you up?"

"No, that's okay. I'll take the bus home. Thanks again, Sophie," I said, waving my hand before I headed up the stairs toward the entrance.

"Okay, call me if you need me or if Deimos magically shows up tonight," she joked, and I rolled my eyes and continued my walk up the stairs.

I scanned my card, waiting for the beep to signal that I could open the door. As I entered the building, my co-worker, Mrs.April, greeted me.

"Hey, Mrs.April. How are you? Is Isaac here?"

"Better be. Oh, and Quinn, I'm locking up, okay sweetie, so you could go home a little earlier."

I smiled at that comment because I loved working with Mrs. April, and when she locked up, it was so much easier.

"Perfect," I said, giving her a Cheshire smile. There were only a few people who visited the library at this time, and I loved it. They were mostly older people who came to read instead of going to poker night or bingo; I unpacked my things and took my sketchbook out. I basically got paid to sketch, put books back, and do a few checkouts.

What I enjoyed the most was talking with Isaac. Isaac was making his way toward me, and I could almost bet that he wanted to know what I picked out for him this week. Isaac was an elderly man in his late 70s. He was sincere, kind, and honestly funny. He tells me all sorts of stories about his younger years, about how he was a ladies' man until he met his wife, whom he adores.

"Quinn, how is my favorite worker?" He leaned into the counter, and I let out a soft chuckle. Isaac was a short man with many gray hairs intertwined with his black ones. "Guess what I brought you?" he whispered as he looked around to see if any co-workers were looking.

"What?" I asked to play along.

"I'll show you, but first, did you bring what I asked for, Quinn?" I chuckled a little and nodded my head, answering his question.

"Did you bring what I asked for, Isaac?" I asked, and he nodded.

"Okay, on the count of three, we hand them over. Ready?" Isaac nodded, and we both started to count.

"One, two, three," we both said simultaneously. I gave him the book, and he gave me my cranberries. He squinted at me before looking down at the cover of the book. “Carter by Kassandra Marie Lopez? This looks rubbish." He whined.

"It's a wolf shifter romance, and you said that about last week's book, too, and the week before that, but yet you still come back for more books. "

"You cheeky little—" He didn't get to finish the sentence because he started reading the back cover, and I could tell he was going to love it. He scurried away and settled into his favorite seat. I let out a quiet laugh as I observed the older man. I sat in the chair in front of the monitor and moved the mouse to wake up the screen. The monitor displayed the cameras for each of the sections. This place had a pretty good surveillance system.There were a few blind spots, which teenagers mostly used, and there was a spot at the very back of the library on the second floor that was completely isolated and no one knew about. I quickly checked the screen in front of me and noted that the library was pretty empty.

I opened my sketchbook and began to draw my inspiration, but as my hand started sketching, I ended up with a drawing of Alexander instead. I drew his emerald eyes with so much detail. I couldn't seem to get his eyes out of my mind. I dropped my pencil and looked up to see Isaac engrossed in the book I gave him. I knew he would love it. The old man was a bookworm. I exhaled and closed my eyes. It had been days, and I missed the sensations he made me feel. The electricity that ran through me from just one touch. I missed the thrill, the spark, the freedom, and I wished my parents weren't so overprotective—so Catholic.

I wished my mother wasn't such a stickler for appearances. If I could, I would also wear those cute corset dresses with the slit down your leg, but my parents would never allow that. In fact, they would say I was asking for trouble, and if something happened, I was asking for it.

It had been over two hours. Just as I scanned the last book back into our system and placed it on the trolley, I began to push the trolley full of books down the aisles. I ensured every book was in the right place and in the correct aisle, making it easier for our patrons to find what they were looking for as I finished placing the last book, a dark Russian mafia romance book. I looked at my watch and saw that my shift would end in the next fifteen minutes.

I took the trolley back to the front of the library and started to clean my area. I packed away my things and grabbed my bag of cranberries from the mini-fridge. I slipped my coat over my clothes and said goodnight to Mrs.April. "Goodnight, Mrs.April; I will see you next week."

"See you, sweetheart. Take care," she replied with a smile. I made my way over to Isaac .

"Do you have someone picking you up, Isaac?" I was worried that he might catch the bus by himself if I left. Isaac stood up and closed the book, hiding it inside the drawer to his side. When I first caught him doing that, I was a little jealous I didn't think about that. In fact, I believed those drawers were only there for aesthetics.

When I confronted him, he bribed me with cranberries and explained how he hated other people taking his books. I loved the fact that Isaac never took them home because he liked to have people looking for the books he hides, and I had to admit it was pretty funny to watch them run around like headless chickens. Isaac loved his wife so much that he had no time to read when he was with her.

"My grandson is outside. Let us give you a ride, " he offered as he tucked his phone inside his pants pocket. I chuckled, shaking my head.

"No, that's okay, Isaac. I'm taking the bus tonight." I liked taking the bus, plus it was my only way of transportation since my parents couldn't afford to buy a new car. Since I started working here, I've been helping my parents with their financial issues.

"Are you sure? It's pouring out there. You can hear it. It's coming down pretty hard and fast. You'll catch a cold, you stubborn woman."

"I'm fine. Please don't worry about me." He shook his head, not taking no for an answer.

I sighed, giving in.

"Okay, how about you give me a ride to the bus stop?" He looked at me with a look that said Really? I will stay here all night till you say yes, or we'll both ride the bus! And I knew he meant business. We both exited the library. Mrs. April started to lock up, and I saw a black Cadillac Escalade parked in front. The car was stunning, and it reminded me of a vehicle in a billionaire romance book.Isaac opened his umbrella and covered both of us from the rain. I slipped inside the back passenger door and thanked Isaac. He closed my door, opened the front passenger door, and slipped inside.

"Alexander, we're taking my friend to the bus stop first." Alexander? I snapped my head up, looking into the rear-view mirror, and there he was. I sucked in a breath—the man with the greenest eyes I had ever seen. Even in the dark, they shined bright. Alexander raised a brow before looking at his grandpa. Holy Shit! Isaac's grandson was Alexander!

My eyes widened in shock, and I was shitting bricks.

He was here.