The Tattoo Artist (La Petite Mort #1)

56. Chapter 56

fifty-six

Quinn

I listened to him intently as he talked. He handed me a newspaper clipping about an article that talked about the death of a doctor. The following article was about a nurse, the one after that was about the death of a record clerk, and finally, the death of a judge. "A few days later, you called me frantic because you had blood all over you, and you needed help," he admitted. I read each one as he continued talking, and something inside me was triggered.

Flashback after flashback hit me. The dreams about me being covered in blood weren't dreams. I killed the doctor.

The nurse.

The judge.

The record clerk.

I killed them all. I designed the sign of death because I wanted to terrorize them. Just like Alex terrorized his victims. I was Deimos. And darkness took over when the words came out of his mouth, confirming my suspicion.

"You were Deimos," he confirmed.

I felt his fingers caress my cheek gently. I licked my lips, feeling them dry. I opened my eyes slowly. "I remembered," I confessed. He pulled me into his arms, my head rested against his chest, and he traced patterns on my back.

"I want to know more," I mumbled.

"After the first call, I started following you. You were fascinated with Greek mythology because you loved my back tattoo, so you came up with the sign of death. My signature was to rip my victim's heart and feel it beat against my fingers. Yours was to shove a poker card down their throats. The day of your accident, you called me to pick you up because you discovered that your sister's baby was you."

More flashbacks occurred with every word he spoke; they were quick but vivid. I overheard my parents mention Cara's name, and what came next devastated me.

"What do you think will happen when Cara finds out the truth? That her baby didn't die. That we kept her and raised her as our own," my mother shouted. My heart stopped beating. I couldn't breathe. I ran out of the house, calling Alexander's number.

"You called me hysterically crying. You couldn't even tell me what was wrong; you just kept repeating, 'She's my mother.' I had no idea what that meant until you finally told me. I made you a promise to find your mother and get her out of the hell they had her in. That same day, I had just finished a job. My brothers and I were meeting with the Yakuza for a weapons trade. Nikolai had informed my brother that there was a mole," he paused almost as if he was remembering the accident.

"It all happened so fast. We were on my bike on Tower Bridge when a car came straight for us, and the gunshots echoed. I lost control, trying to make sure you weren't hit when we went through the railing and ended up in the water. You had no helmet since midway through our drive; you took yours off and forced my head inside it."

I remembered the sound of gunshots.

The sirens.

The water.

"When I entered your room, and you saw me for the first time, you had no idea who I was. The doctor explained you had amnesia. I didn't want to lose you. I wanted a part of you that no one else had, so I became Deimos. Deimos allowed me to watch you, protect you, and love you until you remembered or until you fell in love with Alexander all over again."

"But the radio reported that Deimos had been known in Greece?"

"You silly girl. Deimos's origins are from Greek mythology, but you're right. Deimos had never been to Greece until two years ago. Princess, I made sure everyone believed that Deimos existed way before you created him. The Hellenic Policesay and confirm what I tell them."

I looked up at him. My eyes connected with his. I had tears hearing him talk. He helped me create Deimos. I wanted a part of him, so I went with Greek mythology. Alexander Hades loved me and the darkness I had inside. He didn't want to lose me, so he continued to keep Deimos alive and get justice for me against the people who had hurt me. Alexander Hades was my Deimos, and I wanted him to keep it.

He wiped away the tears—his thumb brushed against my lower lip. Teasing me as he ran his thumb over my lips. I grabbed his wrist, stopping his movements. I crashed my lips against his, straddling his lap.I kissed down his chest. I could feel his heart beating just beneath my fingertips.Then I moved further down—I kissed his lower stomach. He pulled me up and flipped us so that my back was against the mattress. My fingers hooked the top of his sweats and gently dragged them halfway down his ass.I gently grabbed his cock, pumping him. I removed my dress and bra, along with my panties. He aligned himself along my entrance teasing the head of his cock against my clit, when suddenly he slammed inside me.

I moaned.

I lifted my head from the pillow, putting my mouth by his ear. "Fuck me," he groaned, easing out to slam inside again. Our bodies slapped together as he set a fast, hard pace. He flipped me on my stomach. I loved it when he manhandled me.

I felt myself growing wet with each slap, making it impossible to stay quiet. "Listen to how wet you get for me," he praised. Alex pounded into me, and my eyes slowly rolled back in pleasure. I could feel all ten inches inside me. He wasted no time picking up a brutal, hard pace.

The sound of his balls slapping my clit echoed around the room.

"Mmm," I breathed out. How was he making me feel this good? The butterflies weren't just in my stomach. No, this time, I felt them everywhere, from my stomach down to my pussy.

"Look at you taking my cock like a good fucking girl," he praised against my ear. My pussy clenched around him, causing him to groan. I did it again. This time on purpose just to hear him groan again.

Alexander pushed my head down further into the mattress, unable to breathe. But I didn't care. The feeling of his cock slamming into me had me floating.

I loved this.

I loved him.

I chose him.

He cums inside me, and I—

I cum all over his cock. Alexander loosened the hold on the back of my head, tears leaking from my eyes from the silent pleasure. He helped me up, kneeling in front of him as he stood before me.

He placed a kiss on my forehead. "Open," he demanded. My mouth instantly opened, almost begging him to do whatever he wanted. His index and middle finger reached down to scoop both of our cums from my pussy.

He shoved both his fingers deep into my mouth—he was feeding me our cum. I could feel our cum slide down my throat. He pushed another finger into my mouth, causing me to whimper from the stretch. "Come on, Princess, you can handle more than three fingers."

He caressed my cheek with his free hand, and my jaw relaxed, allowing him to push further into me.