American Traditional Reaper Tattoo Novels & Stories

“Your tattoos are beautiful.” I look at the tattoo of a skull surrounded by black flames. My whole right arm is decorated with tattoos from shoulder to wrist. My skin prickles with every caress of her fingers, but I don’t stop her from touching me. The tattoo sleeve has several tribal symbols, and there are a seal trident and a frogman tattoo on my shoulder. Each tattoo represents something in my life. The skull represents my status as an Assassin, and the cross is a play on my name. Her finger moves down the line of my intricate cross, then to the inside of my rib cage, where I have an inscription. Qui velit, ut vivat in aeternum.

“What’s going on?” He pointed towards two people seated across from each other. One of them was a werewolf I recognized from school, known for his artistic talents. He was holding a multi-needle tool, dipping it into dark blue ink. He was in the middle of giving the other person sitting across from him a tattoo. The other guy was from school to and his face a mix of pain and pride. Wow. “This is a werewolf tradition,” Liam explained. “On Halloween, we get our first tattoos using this ancient method. It’s been passed down through generations.”

“That’s our Rex,” Kealy snickered, shaking her head, “Pulling off the impossible.” “I don’t understand,” Rex shrugged, seeing Kiri was still flicking her eyes between the tattoo and his face. “I was there for five days in your memory, did some fishing, hunted a few werebeasts, and a mountain troll and then got hit on the back of the skull from a hill knoll. After I successfully completed a solo hunt of a wool-coated tembo, elder Mwindaji gave me this.” He lifted his forearm to show the small tattoo.

I slipped out of bed, my hands shaking slightly as I pulled on my dark jeans, the fitted black tank top, and the heavy leather jacket with Stone's property patch written boldly across the back. When I walked out into the main living room, the space was filled with patched Reapers and their old ladies, all dressed in their heavy riding gear and carrying small duffel bags for the trip. Riley was standing by the front door, a bright smile on her face as she saw me walk down the stairs. "Today is the day, Tessa!" she called out over the noise of the engines outside. "You look like a real Reaper girl now." "Thank you, Riley," I said, trying my best to keep my voice steady as I followed her out on

My tone hitched. “What, how does his foot tell you that?” “You see when he moves his foot, his pants hitches letting a blue mark reaper tattoo out. Which is given to someone who marries into high ranking officials.” Edmund’s face was priceless, his mouth was gaping open in disbelief. “And there’s my other option, he was making this repetitive motion of cleaning his nails then massaging his imaginary back pocket. I guess his job is to be one of the lookouts.“ I stood getting tired of sitting. “So, tell me who should I pick.”

But before he could complete his sentence, his eyes widened in horror. Dabria had stabbed his dark soul with the dagger of Eve. Dabria pulled the dagger out and stepped away from him. Dark flames engulfed Adrian's dark soul. His horrified screams shook the Karts pack lands. "You forgot again that I am not just a vampire. I am a reaper vampire hybrid. And as a reaper, I can kill you with whatever weapon I possess." Dabria finally answered the question Adrian asked her right before his soul was completely burnt.

The truck engine idles, a deep, mechanical growl that vibrates in the pavement beneath my boots. I press myself into the brick recess of the corner building, holding my breath. My heart hammers against my ribs like a trapped bird. The Reaper who stepped out of the garbage truck—a giant with a shaved head and a beard braided with metal rings—holsters his radio. "Load him up," he commands. Two more men jump out from the back of the truck. They wear black tactical gear, no cuts. Mercenaries? Or just Reapers dressed for war?

"You're coming back." Cale held him. He looked at his wrist. Two marks. He hadn't used one. The color had returned on its own. Or maybe... maybe the wedding had paid the debt. The Vow, Cale thought. The Vow is the energy. He kissed the top of Elion’s head. "I am here," Cale said. "I am right here." And in the quiet hallway of the haunted house, the Reaper finally put down his scythe, and picked up a life instead.

Azrael and Hunter have the same matching tattoos. It is just an inscription in Greek. I begged my dad and after persuading him for months he allowed me have it. I replied the message. Guess I have a date this Saturday.