Page 2 of Inked Desires

ANDREW

Ten thousand dollars.

How could I have been so fucking stupid? I stole ten thousand dollars from Jace.

Is he already looking for me? Of course he’s noticed I’m gone by now.

Shit.

Fuck. If he finds me, I’m dead. He’ll make me pay for betraying him.

I’m screwed.

I let out a sigh and drop my head onto the sticky table.

Whatever grime is stuck to it can’t possibly be worse than the future waiting for me.

It’s been five days since I went on the run.

My limbs twitch with exhaustion, begging for a few hours of sleep.

But my mind won’t let go. It clings to everything, refuses to shut down, to rest.

I lift my head when the only employee in this diner refills my cup again.

It’s my fourth coffee this morning.

In the window, I catch my reflection.

I’m still not used to this new version of me.

The pale blond hair, almost white. The blue eyes. This is me. Not the mask they forced on me. Back then, the black hair and green eyes were nothing but a fantasy—

my captor’s fantasy. A look designed to please, to show off, to satisfy a whim, to strip me of any sense of self. Now I’m no longer a puppet to be dressed up and displayed.

The bell above the door chimes.

I tense and shrink into myself.

Is it Jace? Has he tracked me down already? I glance sideways, trying not to move too obviously.

Someone walks toward my table.

There’s a darkness about him, sure—but it’s nothing compared to what I’ve known.

I let myself relax.

It’s not him.

The man stops at the counter and nods to the server.

Even through his leather jacket, you can tell he works out.

His hair is neatly combed, his legs long and muscular, and his jeans hug a perfectly shaped ass.

“Coffee and a donut,” he says in a voice so low and rough it sounds like he’s smoked and drank his entire life.

His voice is so deep it sends a shiver down my spine.

I rub my forehead.

I’m tired.

Too tired.

It’s making me weak, vulnerable. I force myself to look away, silently promising not to let my desires own me ever again.

But I can’t help stealing glances.

He turns, scanning the room.

The moment his eyes find me, his body tenses.

He straightens, fists clenched, and stares at me like he sees through skin and bone.

There’s something primal about him, something savage that punches the air out of my lungs. Behind his eyes, I see the beast—coiled and waiting.

The shiver turns to a tremble.

His dark brows dominate his face, overshadowing almost-black eyes, a small upturned nose, full lips, and a thin scar cutting across his cheek.

I know better than anyone: a monster can hide behind any face.

I shake my head and toss a twenty on the table.

I need to get out.

Jace looked at me that way once, and it never led anywhere good.

I move quickly, heading for the door and stepping into the street.

Maybe I should’ve picked a different place.

Maple Creek had seemed like a smart choice when I saw the sign at the city limits.

Far enough from him and all his operations.

But the way that guy looked at me—it’s messing with my head.

Did Jace send people out here? Did someone spot me? How much time do I have before I disappear for real? I rub my forehead and exhale.

Calm down.

Paranoia won’t help.

If that guy really worked for Jace, I’d already be tied up and gagged in the trunk of some car.

I keep walking, trying to slow my breathing, but my heart slams painfully against my ribs.

I stop in front of a building that stands out with its sleek modern design.

A neon sign reads Devil’s Sign, and below it, a small board says: Help wanted.

That one word hits me like a blow, and I drop to my knees on the sidewalk.

For the first time, it sinks in—really sinks in.

Help… Who’s helped me so far? No one.

I’m lost.

I need everything. I have nothing. And no way to survive on my own. But I have to. I have to find a way, an escape route. Maybe—just maybe—

“We’re not open yet,” someone says behind me.

I jump. The voice from the diner echoes in my head. He steps around me, one hand holding a coffee cup and a paper bag, the other digging into his pocket for keys.

“I’m looking for a job,” I say, even though I was doing everything to avoid him just minutes ago.

He glances over his shoulder but doesn’t fully face me. “You don’t look like someone who’d work in a tattoo shop,” he mutters, unlocking the door.

“You need someone for the front desk, right? I might not tattoo, but I can book appointments.”

God, I need the money. My shitty car already ate up a chunk of what I stole, and the rest won’t last long.

The man stops, exhales like he’s preparing for something. “Come in and drink a damn coffee,” he says, stepping into the shop’s glass front. “You look pathetic. And stop talking to me like I’m the fucking president.”

Is that a yes? Or just a polite way of telling me to piss off?

He’s right though. I must look ridiculous, crouched on his doorstep like some half-dead stray. Not ready to leave, I push myself to my feet and follow him inside. Something about this guy pulls at me.

I stop between the front desk and the waiting area, not daring to follow him into the back. I can’t afford to get hit with a trespassing charge on top of everything else. I need to stay far away from the local sheriff.

“You gonna stand there all day, or are you coming to drink this fucking coffee?” His voice booms across the room.

I look up. He’s standing in a doorway, leather jacket gone, tattooed arms crossed over his chest. I step closer and take the paper cup he offers with a quick, cautious hand, like I expect him to throw it at my face.

“What’s your name?” he asks, scanning me from head to toe.

“Andrew,” I answer, grateful for the warmth of the drink in my hands. “And y—you?”

He raises a brow. Maybe he didn’t expect the question to come back at him. But I’ve been intimidated long enough.

“Ares,” he says under his breath. “Ever worked a front desk before?”

I shake my head.

"But I learn fast!" I say, aware that my lack of experience could be a dealbreaker, yet it’s the only fallback I have. What do you want me to do? He shoots me a look that says he’s clearly underestimating me. I have to prove I’m useful—I have no choice if I want to stay here. Besides, if I manage to earn some money, maybe I can rent an apartment. The boarding house I’m staying at will cost me a fortune in the long run.

"Start by making some coffee," he says, nodding toward a door. "After all, you drank mine."

Then he leaves me alone. He doesn’t seem thrilled to have me here, but the upside is that if I annoy him, I’ll at least have some peace. Better than dealing with flirting attempts or unwanted closeness.

The kitchen is simple. It has only two appliances besides the oven and fridge: a coffee maker and a microwave. I rummage through the cupboards until I find ground coffee and filters, just like he said. Near a cabinet, I spot a broom. Not wanting to stand uselessly while the coffee brews, I decide to sweep the lounge. It takes just a few minutes, but the guy doesn’t reappear during that time. Sighing, I pour myself a cup of coffee and slump back into the chair at the reception.

Fortunately, the phone ringing pulls me out of my boredom and inaction. I can’t just sit still—my thoughts become too intrusive.

"Devil’s Sign, Andrew Lopez speaking," I say, instinctively using my old name.

"Finally found someone to enslave?" a man’s voice exclaims. "About time!"

"Not yet. I’m trying before I sell my soul," I reply in the same tone.

"Interesting. Is Ares there?"

That name never ceases to surprise me. It’s uncommon, but it suits him. This guy is different—nothing like a small-town local. Everyone around here seems a bit rough, like they don’t like strangers much.

I nod but suddenly remember the guy on the other end can’t see me.

"He’s here," I confirm.

"Great, can I talk to him? He’s not answering my messages."

"Who should I say is calling?"

"William. William Clark."

"One moment."

I hang up and stand up. I’m not thrilled to go to the back room, but Ares didn’t leave when the phone rang.

I push the door open. Inside, a large room. A chair sits in the center. To my left, a floor-to-ceiling mirror covers an entire wall. My gaze shifts. Ares is in front of a wall cabinet, cleaning the counter.

"Some William Clark wants to talk to you," I say.

He shivers, then violently tosses the cloth into the sink.

"Tell him I’m not available," he growls.

"He knows you’re here," I retort.

If he didn’t want to talk to someone, he should’ve given me a list to screen calls. I can’t read minds yet.

He exhales loudly, turns, and passes me. I follow silently.

His fingers grip the phone so hard the plastic cracks under the pressure.

"What?" he barks.

He stays silent during William’s words, his face growing more severe, jaw clenched, darkness filling his eyes.

"It’s been two years since you’ve given any sign of life, and now you call? Just send me the papers," he snaps before hanging up.

The phone slams onto the table.

Suddenly, I feel like an intruder. He doesn’t look at me. He just crosses the room and storms into the back, slamming the door behind him.

Next time William calls, I’ll tell him he’s not here. He’ll probably know it’s a lie—there’s only one tattoo shop after all—but I don’t mind being a liar. I’m destined for hell anyway.

Ares already didn’t seem friendly, but after that call, he looks worse—like a monster ready to unsheathe his claws. I have no desire to upset him further or find out what he’s capable of.

The morning passes without other incidents. I start sorting paperwork. A few bills catch my eye: their due dates are almost past. Even though I don’t want to bother him, I have to let him know.

I head to the back room. To my surprise, he’s gone. When did he leave? And how? No one passed me on the way out. Confused, I scan the room, but he’s nowhere to be found. Was I too focused on paperwork to notice?

I return to my post, fatigue creeping into my muscles. I rest my head in my hands, trying to hold on despite exhaustion. For the first time in days—and despite the big glass window that makes me visible to all—I feel a little safe.

"If you don’t take this job seriously, find another," he snaps.

I jump. He’s there, like magic. I must really need sleep; no one can disappear and reappear without making a sound.

"Sorry, I had a rough night."

Truth is, it’s been much longer than that, but he doesn’t need to know.

He tilts his head slightly, those deep, icy eyes fixing me like he wishes I’d leave. I rub my neck, embarrassed.

"I spotted some expenses to pay," I say, changing the subject and showing him the documents.

Without a word, he slides his hands into the pockets of his black jeans and circles the table, opening his online bank account before my eyes. He doesn’t even try to hide his PIN. Is he stupid or careless? Especially with a thief like me here. I keep quiet but memorize the code anyway.

I don’t intend to scam him. But if I have to run in a hurry, I won’t hesitate for a second. Survival instinct overrides everything.

"It’s your job to manage that," he says simply before leaving the room and the building without further explanation.

This guy is strange. But that suits me fine—less he talks, fewer questions about me. Knowing myself, I’d get caught in my own lies, so silence is safer.

I get back to work, paying the bills from his account. There’s a decent sum. Maybe I should learn tattooing to make a living and escape abroad. There, Jace won’t find me. But first, I’d need a fake passport.

The doorbell rings. I turn and see Ares carrying a plastic bag, heading silently to the kitchen without a glance.

After paying the bills, I check his emails: nothing interesting, mostly spam. I clean out the inbox to prevent overflow later.

"You gonna spend your lunch break at your desk?" he asks, poking his head out of the kitchen.

I straighten up, confused. With so little work, I hadn’t even thought about taking a break.

He disappears again. I stand and follow him immediately. Three cardboard boxes sit on the table. He bites into a burger and nods toward one of the boxes when he sees me. I sit in a free chair and open it, finding a cheeseburger.

My stomach growls. Except for some coffee, I haven’t eaten in two days. Grateful, I devour it greedily, savoring every bite. I’m starving, and it’s probably the best burger I’ve ever had.

"Try chewing," he jokes.

Embarrassed, I glance at him. My burger is nearly gone. I wipe sauce from my face and mumble, "Sorry, I was really hungry."

A slight smile tugs at his lips. He looks more human like that.

"If you’re hungry, go to the diner across the street," he says, regaining his seriousness. "I’m not babysitting your breaks."

"Do you often give your codes to complete strangers?"

"Hmm… You’re not a stranger anymore. You’re my employee."

I finish my burger too quickly. A sharp pain grips my stomach. Seeing it, he wordlessly offers me some fries.

"Thanks, but I’m full," I politely decline.

"Eat. You’re too thin."

I flush with embarrassment. His comment, though kind, drags me back to everything I’ve been through. I gather the empty box and whisper a "thanks" before quickly leaving the kitchen.

Outside, I take a deep breath to calm my anxiety. I can’t let panic take over. Jace no longer controls my life. I have to stay strong.

When I come back, Ares leans against the wall, arms crossed. He watches me silently, his gaze lingering on my eyes, searching for something I don’t want to reveal.