The Tattoo Artist - PAPERBACK ON AMAZON!

Chapter Two | 'Barking Up The Wrong Tree'

A L E X A N D R A | J O N E S

Cathy was forcing me to accompany her to a tattoo parlour. As she pushed my back, I was absolutely crapping myself, clutching my books hard to my chest. I would never see the light of day if my parents found out I was in this part of town.

"Come on Ali, stop being a baby." She rolls her eyes; I shake my head in distraught. Looking around the roads, and suddenly every passing car looks like my dad's.

"Cathy, I have to go home. If my parents see me here-" She holds up her hands and stops me from speaking, she gives me a chance to breathe. "I'm sorry, I'm just nervous."

"Hey, it's me getting the tattoo. Not you, use this as an opportunity to sketch the place? Bring some ideas for your portfolio, you are applying to a University in New York." I sigh, she was right. I could use this for my portfolio which i have been stuck on for seven weeks. And it was due in two months.

"You never told me it was in this part of town."

"Then you would have never come." She chuckles.

"Exactly!" We reach the front of the tattoo parlour.

Temple Tattoo

The name in white fonts read, Cathy pushes the door open enough for the both of us to slip through. I look around, "Cathy, here for my diamond tattoo." As she spoke to the woman at the front desk, my mind drifts to the wall of signatures. I turn my head to a ninety-degree angle as i inspect every drawing and writing.

"Ali! Come on." I snap my head back to Cathy; she waves for me to follow after her and I do. We walk through a tight hallway, so tight that we had to walk behind each other. And through every door is a tattoo going on. The receptionist points to the last door, Cathy pushes the door open. "Ares, right?" Cathy assumed.

I lift my eyes to look at the artist, and once they meet his...it was as if the whole word was pushed behind me. He had eyes that spoke of all that was new in the spring, of a soul that was eternally young. His pale green eyes were the tenderness of budding blossoms, the promise of spring. And they gripped onto mine for a moment, he is stunning.

And oddly familiar. His eyes. I remember his eyes.

His hair was black, and by black, I mean the colour of the night sky. He had wide curls and strong brows that kept the colour of his eyes wonderfully well when nothing could be seen. His lashes were long and reached his cheekbones as he blinks, his nose was prominent, and his lips were large and full. I never stare at guys for this long, and I had to turn away as a crimson flush crept up my face.

"Cathy? Sit down and roll your sleeve." Cathy listens and settles down; I stand in the corner as he gets his equipment ready. Slipping on a pair of latex black gloves, my eyes travel to his tattooed sleeve. 

He had tattoos everywhere, all over his neck, arms and heaven maybe under his shirt. I look at his left hand, but it is not Diávolos. He had a butterfly tattoo instead and not the swords Diávolos drew in-between my breasts.

But the way he looked at me.

It seemed so familiar.

"So, how's the hunt for Diávolos?" She asks, staring down at me.

"He was there, last night by the alley in front of my window. He came back after two years Cathy, and he just-he stared at me...as if I were something he wanted..."

"Wanted to kill...how the fuck are you not afraid of him?" Cathy gasped out.

"I was drawing him, and I think he noticed because when i turned to look back...he was no longer there and instead he was in my room."