The Tattoo Artist (La Petite Mort #1)

43. Chapter 43

forty-three

Quinn

T wo Months Later

Sophie and I only had three months left of school. I wasn't too sure what she wanted to do, but I knew she wanted to get out of here and explore the world. Sophie had been acting strange since the day of the fight, and when I tried asking her if she knew Aristotle, she got angry and said she wanted nothing to do with that asshole.

On the other hand, Owen realized that Alexander's younger brother, Sebastian, was the guy he was crushing on. I guess Sebastian didn't correct Owen when he assumed he was Alexander, but it turned out Sebastian was the person who had tattooed him.

It had been a few days since Alexander's last fight. I wasn't able to attend because my parents kept eyes on me the entire time I was home even when I pretended to fall asleep th,ey would enter my room to ensure I was still asleep and in my room.

I 'd been busy finishing my portfolio, hoping to get the scholarship and hopefully go to New York. Something about the big city appealed to me. Alexander's been busy with his tattoo shop and family business. We haven't had the chance to hang out that much.

Plus, he had been acting strange lately. I recently followed him to that house that was once abandoned, and I felt he wasn't telling me the truth. I wasn't sure who lived there, but I would find out. I swore if he was cheating on me, I would slit her fucking throat before cutting off his fucking cock.

Alexander Hades was mine.

Deimos was mine.

Shaking my head at such ridiculous thoughts, I got the last of my art supplies ready and headed to the cabin for some inspiration.

I made my way to the sitting room and hit play on my classical romance playlist. Passacaglia played. I untied my robe, letting it drop to the floor, leaving me in just my panties. I wore my red cotton panties with the day of the week—Friday.

Getting a blank canvas, I walked back to the A-stand, set it down, and grabbed my paint palette in one hand and a brush with the other. Dipping the brush into the black paint, I painted the canvas black.

Alexander was out with his brothers before they headed to Greece the following week. The memory of his last fight and our celebration had plagued my mind—desperately needing to feel butterflies all over again. Pulling his contact info up, I decided to text Alexander.I clicked on his name, which was now under My Devil.

Me: I need you, baby.

He responded immediately.

Alexander: You need me?

Oh, my God. Did he not understand what I meant? Blowing out a breath of frustration, I tried again.

Me: Mmmm. Please, I need you.

Alexander: Oh, you need me?

OH MY GOD! For a killer, he sure was clueless.

Me: Please make me feel butterflies winky face emoji

Alexander: Angel, you know I'm out.

Motherfucker! Now, I knew he was messing with me. Well, we both can play this game.

Me: I know sad face emoji

Me: But I truly need you, Alex…

Alexander: You're making it hard for me to concentrate right now.

I smiled sinisterly. I was horny, but I wanted him desperately.

Me: I'm sure that's not the only thing that's hard right now laughing emoji

Alexander: You think that's funny? You won't be laughing when I'm done with you.

Me: Oh, really?

Alexander: Mhm, you're awfully bratty today. Good girls get what they want, and bad little nuns get punishments.

Me: It's a good thing I want to be a bad little nun.

Me: Cause I know what happens when Deimos takes over.

Alexander: Oh, you better run, Princess, cause I'm coming devil emoji

I smiled, satisfied.

I got what I wanted.

Locking my phone, I threw it onto the bed and returned to painting.

Twenty minutes later, I added the last red paint to the canvas and stepped back a few steps to admire my work.

I had painted Deimos's sign of death.

It was painful and poetic. Beautiful, dangerous, but tragic.

Suddenly, I felt cold air. I turned to see Alexander standing there with the mask Deimos used. I could feel my nipples harden due to the cold air that had hit them.

"Who do you want, mou Angelos?" Alexander's voice was thick, lips parted as he breathed heavily.I turned, looking up at him with lust-filled eyes. Without thinking, I stripped my panties off and let them fall onto the dropcloth below my bare feet. I touched the canvas—red paint covered my hands.

His hand reached out to hook his finger under my necklace, and he pulled me closer to him. Alexander locked eyes with me and peeled away his T-shirt, exposing his ripping muscles and tattooed skin. He was a Greek God at its finest.

I stood before him, pressing my hand against his heart and transferring the red. "I remembered our first encounter," I confessed. He didn't say a word as I dabbed my fingers into my palette and worked more color into his chest.

"When I look at you, I see red. Sacrifice, danger, heat, passion, and fire. " I dipped into another pool of paint, blending it down his sternum and across the opposite side of his chest. "I see green. Rebirth. Life. And new beginnings ."

I coated my hand in blue, then turned to face him. He grabbed my hips and pulled me down to straddle his lap. Alexander draped my thighs over his hips and held my ass in both hands.

"You're my inspiration, my calmness," I said as I smudged his collarbone, neck, and jaw with blue paint. Black covered my hands as I worked over his shoulders and biceps. I grabbed his hands, covering them in black, placing one of his hands on my chest. He grabbed a handful of my breasts, feeling my heartbeat. "You're the darkness to my light," I whispered.

I wiped my palms on the towel I had set earlier, cleaning them before coating my fingers in red paint. " I love you, Alexander Hades," I confessed. My fingers had made a red heart over his own. My touch light as I looked down at the colors blended across his chest and stomach.

Alexander traced that red heart on his chest before crashing his lips onto mine. He cupped my cheek, painting my skin as he kissed me. I tightened my legs around him as his other hand snaked around my back.