Atlas Greek God Tattoo 소설 & 이야기

. I don't understand why you helped me bring her back and now that she's here she is still not back with me. What is going on? All I want is my mates back!!" Atlas screamed. The dragon god chuckled and turned his big head, looked him directly in the eyes and said, Mates! Did you just say Mates?!" Atlas was now on the verge of tears. "Yes, please, I need my mates back," Atlas cried. He ran up to Mizuki and gently graded her head, leaned on and softly kissed her nose. "Please, I need all my mates back, Please Mizuki, I see now why this is happening, and I am sorry I love all my mates. I just wished I had a dragon form, so I could be with you as well. I know that is why you are the way you are

He looked at me briefly then back at my hand that was holding onto his. The biggest and clearer of the tattoos was on the back of his palm. It was drawn with dark ink that stood out on his well tanned dark hands. At first it looked like a sun rising in the horizon and glazing over a field with details of how it shines around it in tiny well drawn marks, I soon realized it was the sea the sun was rising on and not heaps in a field. "Solem Orientem Ghe Mari" I called out the foreign words written right under the tattoo of the sun and the sea. It sounded Latin or was it Italian?

“Surely not. Who would target a pleasure slave? No one in the household had any idea of his powers until after the attempt, except yourself of course.” “The tattoo is a symbol of his Daiyan status.” That caught Trois by surprise. “He said it was a religious symbol.” “Yhieris is the goddess of the moon and stars.” Kari’s voice was soft but there was a hint of steel in his tone. Ryedir couldn’t help the slight curve of his lips in satisfaction. His little omega always seemed to bounce back somehow. It might be muted but the fiery defiance was still there. “She’s also the patron goddess of all Daiyans. I was born with her mark and it has grown and changed with me. It will be there until the day

, I told him. "We are werewolves not the deities, not even the strongest of the werewolves have achieved that unless of course they are given that chance by the deities themselves, like the moon goddess", I explained. "But to be honest, what does Atlas, the son of a Beta have that would make the moon goddess take an interest in him and give him that kind of chance?", I asked and Luke looked at me like he was seriously pondering on my words. "But what if he did come back from the dead?", he insisted.

He smirked and looked back at me. “Get dressed. We will wait in here. When you are ready come out and talk to us.” He shut the door behind him. I took a deep breath. What the hell is going on? Two fucking full-blooded gods are in my apartment. Not just any gods my gods the goddess of the moon the mother of all werewolves and Lycans, Selene. Typhon was also here the god of the dragons, one of the strongest gods there is.

“Come here.” He sat back on the seat. I settled between his legs, my back against his chest, his arms around my waist. The bike beneath us still warm from the ride. He pointed up. I followed his finger. “Orion.” The constellation tattooed on his shoulder. Three stars in a belt. The hunter in the sky. I’d traced it with my fingers so many times I could draw it blind. “Tell me the story again.” His chin on my shoulder. His breath warm against my ear. “Orion was a hunter who loved so hard the gods put him in the sky so he’d never be alone.”

The icy blast would’ve made anyone else recoil, but Dante stood there, solid and unmoving, like he was made of stone. His back was a canvas of ink, just like his front. The artwork was nothing short of breathtaking. Spanning across his entire back was a massive, detailed tattoo—an angel, powerful and divine, standing within the ruins of an ancient temple. The wings spread wide across his shoulder blades, reaching toward his arms, while crumbling pillars surrounded the figure in dramatic grayscale contrast. It wasn’t just a tattoo; it was a story, a testament, a work of devotion etched forever into his flesh. It was absolutely beautiful—mesmerizing, even.

Atlas was chewing on his upper lip. "I could ask Jackson," he finally mumbled, wiggling his eyebrows. "Who in the fuck is Jackson?" Both Faelon and Phil inquired. Atlas shook his head, grinning. "He's one of the fates and close to me," He announced and then shook his head as his brow creased. "Nevermind, he won't tell me outright. He likes to make me guess with stupid riddles," he sighed. Faelon rolled his eyes and perked up hearing Atlas's cell phone start ringing and hoping it was Hoka with good news.

It was difficult to let go of such a grudge, even if Poseidon was an immortal who had lived for several millennia. Atlas was no different. He didn’t look positively at gods, especially gods of the 2nd Heaven. Even though his bias was much weaker than Poseidon’s, it didn’t change the fact that he was still not a big fan of Olympus. As far as he was concerned, everything that Olympus had to offer, with the exception of Zeus of course, was negative. If he was thinking straight, like he normally was, he would have easily guessed who it was that had pushed Poseidon into a maddened conquest.

“Don’t you have training to do?” “It’s not nearly as fun as watching you.” I countered, pouting just a bit. My eyes found the tattoo that started at his shoulder and snaked down his back. A scaled dragon, full of razor-sharp teeth and eyes glistening with intelligence. Its tail was curled around his waist, and ended in a tuft of dangerous points. Atlas’s tattoo seemed much brighter now; definitely brighter than the faded blue it had been in the past. His dragon, it looked as though it were made from ice.