Black Rose And Dagger Tattoo Novels & Stories

Together, they stood amidst the fragrant garden, a testament to the beauty of love and the transformative power of embracing life's vibrant hues. In that moment, surrounded by nature's palette, Rose and Liam reveled in the symphony of colors, their love blooming like the flowers around them. Rose sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers delicately tracing the scar that marred Liam's otherwise perfect abdomen. The deep cut, an intricate pattern of healed tissue, spoke of a past filled with danger and battles fought. Just above his ribcage, a prominent claw mark caught her attention, its jagged lines standing out against the smoothness of his skin. Her brows furrowed as she pondered the stories

My breasts tingle, my hands sizzle with the need to reach out and touch him. I don’t know what he reads on my face but his eyes have gone cold again and his voice is even more intimidating. “Put down the cloth.” I’m no good at following orders, never have been, especially those given by men. I have no idea why the cloth slips from my fingers and lands in the bowl. Dagger leans in and picks it up. His chest is inches from my eyes and his tats fill my vision. The ink appears prison-grade, but the artwork is intricate. A Grim Reaper stands over a crying woman holding a swaddled baby. The design weaves into swirls of flowers with branches that turn to thorns as they flow further out across his c

Ancient runes were engraved on the blade. Daya stared at the dagger. “Is this the first knife? The one used of the first n’alxaes?” Sarya nodded. “It took me a long time to track it. It will make the bond between Ayla and Rhobart stronger.” “I see. Rhobart and Ayla put your left palm facing up,” Daya said. When they did as Daya asked, she made a cut across their palms. Ayla winced. “Rhobart, take Ayla’s left palm into yours,” Daya instructed Rhobart.

The bond exploded, silver and gold intertwining in blinding light, sealing us eternally. Tattoos bloomed across her skin…. her small red full moon on her breast glowed crimson, extending in golden branches with silver petals across her torso, her arms… her whole body, beautiful and ancient. My crescent moon on my right shoulder shone silver, Kieran's on his left mirroring it, linking us forever.

Rhain says coldly. Pain flashes across her face. "I know." I move around Rhain. His hand catches mine at once. "Talia," I say. "The dagger—does it still exist?" Her eyes drop to the box. The villa falls deathly silent. Rhain's grip tightens around my fingers. Talia enters inside and sets the wooden box on the coffee table with reverent care. Unease crawls over my skin. The box is ancient, its dark surface etched with strange symbols burned deep into the wood. One of them I recognize immediately: a five-petaled flower. Rhain’s sigil.

“A symbol that you let me break your rules. Your first. Your only.” My heart slammed in my chest. “What kind of symbol?” He kissed me again, soft this time. “You’ll know it when you see it.” And that’s how I ended up back in his tattoo chair hours later—bare from the waist down, straddling him while he slowly inked a single black rose into my hipbone. “Why a rose?” I whispered. “Because it’s delicate and dangerous. Just like you.” He smiled. “And now it’s mine.”

He didn't seem to notice my little show though, but his gaze often settled on me. We finally settled on a design; a beautiful, delicate tattoo of a phoenix feather that curled and twisted into the shape of a blooming rose. It was perfect. The phoenix, a symbol of rebirth and transformation, and the rose, a symbol of beauty and growth. "It’s beautiful," I breathed, my eyes wide. "I love it." He smiled. "Good. Now, where do you want it? The location is important. It can make or break the design." I had no idea. "Where's the least painful area?" I asked sheepishly.

I'd effortlessly paint her body and miss no single spot. My gaze trail up the array of roses that line her left leg. It's almost like a full garden, starting halfway up her hip, spreading as it ascends, scattering on the side of her left butt cheek where a little switchblade lies in a dark background. The tattoo continues above her waistline where the edges are a little finer, a little sharper and this time, there are thorns woven between each bloom, blood dripping down a few sharp tips. This addition ends just below her left breast, very close to her heart.

And the blush that was barely receding was back again. "I'm not a pretty little flower, Roses are as pretty as they are dangerous." He scoffed, standing up and even from where he was standing, I could see that he'll tower over me. He straightened out his suit jacket. Eyes boring into mine. "The only dangerous roses are those with thorns Rose, and you my dear, you have no thorns. You're a pretty little flower, a harmless little flower." He walked towards me till he was standing right Infront of me, towering over me as expected, I craned my neck just too look at him. "I'll be taking my leave now pretty flower, say hi to Mr. Potter for me."

The tattoo had been left to heal, and remaining true to the promise I made him, I hadn’t looked at it; no matter how much I was itching to. Gulping, I closed my eyes as he gently peeled off the plaster. “This is my way of claiming you, Rose,” he said and kissed the exposed skin of my shoulder. He removed the bandage, and I slowly opened my eyes. On their own accord, my hands came up and covered my mouth as a gasp escaped my lips when I saw the beautiful drawing that had taken over the hideous scar. It was a motorcycle lost to time and consumed but a wildflower bush. The vines wrapped the metal in their embrace, and big red roses bloomed around it, claiming it. Right next to it lay a huge gra