Page 50 of The Tattoo Artist

The same person who killed his father for me.

The same person who kissed me.

The same person who vowed to do anything for me.

My mind raced, trying to process the coincidence and the potential complications.

“He’s literally my type on paper,” Clark continues, seemingly oblivious to the internal turmoil I’m experiencing. “That man could do whatever he wants to me.”

I muster a hesitant chuckle, trying to hide my true feelings. “No way, he’s the one who did my tattoo,” I whisper, not sure how Clark would react.

“I could tell, butterflies are his signature thing,” Clark remarked casually, dipping a fry into his sauce.

So then how the hell didn’t I notice? Am I really that oblivious of my surroundings?

My mind was in a whirlwind.

“But is he... interested in men?” I ask.

What if he is?

What if Ares is bi-sexual?

“I don’t know, and to be honest, I’m scared to ask him,” he admits, I begin to feel the weight of my own feelings for Ares. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves.

Clark suddenly had an idea that caught me off guard.

“Hang on, what if you ask him?” He suggests, and I choke on my food in surprise.

“What?”

“Alexandra, please, just pretend you’re going for a tattoo and ask him,” Clark persists. “We’re friends, right?”

I was torn.

On one hand, I wanted to help Clark and warn him about Ares if necessary. On the other hand, I knew it could put me in a difficult position and potentially reveal more than I was ready to share.

Ares is mine.

“I... I don’t know,” I stammer, my mind racing with conflicting thoughts. I felt jealousy flood through my veins, and suddenly I want to shout and claim Ares all for myself.

He’s mine.

Ares is mine.

Ares likes me not Clark.

Ares killed someone for me, why would he do that if he didn’t feel anything for me? Or is this going to be another situation where I fall for someone who will end up with someone else?

Clark leans in; his eyes earnest. “Please, just do this for me. I need to know if there’s any chance, he might feel the same way.”

“Have you even had a conversation with him?”

He nods his head, “I have tattoos too Alexandra…only so I could spend some time with him.” I scratch the back of my neck and look into his eyes.

His father is dead because of me.

‘For you.’

---