Blackbook Tattoos Novels & Stories

he said and lead me through the sea of dancers. I breathed in fresh air as we moved out the back door. I managed to pick up a few pointers. The bistro had a secret comparment behind the kitchen. Probably, Dan's office. I had to check it out later. I also noticed the same kind of tattoo of a songbird on every wrist of the few people I passed. My eyes landed on Brent's wrist. The same tattoo! The bistro was full of the gang members. "Does your tattoo mean anything?" I asked as he led me through another door into a storage room.

Slowly, he turns away from me, tugs at his shirt, and lifts it up. There! Pristine and raw, is a new tattoo on his skin. A black crown on his shoulder. My mouth goes dry and suddenly I can hear Layla as if she’s standing here with me: Tattoos. Every man of the Bratva has some. Some signify their past deeds, terrible or great things they’ve done, and their ranks. It doesn’t take a genius to know what the crown means. I'd suspected Yannick planned to kill me, but now I know for sure.

They played for a bit she sighed dreamily as the Carson, Matthew, and Chuck took off their shirts, a few minutes later Leon, John, William and Blake followed suit, and she couldn't help but smile as she noticed that Carson and Blake had similar eagle’s tattoos on their left shoulders. But she also noticed the black jaguar that ran mid-back on Blake and the lion on Carson.

I wrapped my hands around her back and consoled her. “Manvi please don't cry..what’s the matter,” I asked in concern. She parted the hug and showed her hands “look at this, Mumma said it's the biggest blessing if the colour is dark but I only have burnt hands'' she said plainly. I held her hand and kissed her wound gently, she closed her eyes. “Manvi, It's just a ritual and not any Henna’s colour will be evidence to show how deeply I love you..” I exclaimed.

Thea smirks. With a resigned sigh, I take the book, only to gasp in shock when a fire goes through my hands before a small black ‘T’ appears on the back of my left hand, surrounded by an intricate mandala lotus. It looks like a tattoo, to be honest. “The fuck is this?!” Blake grasps my hand and quickly inspects the strange phenomenon. “Does it hurt?” He asks worriedly. “No… It doesn’t. But it felt as if it was burned into my skin.”

Even their most devoted confidants were unaware that a lifelike blood-red maple leaf tattoo adorned the center of their back. The Black Maple Organization was like an insect. It had died. Yet, it continued to live on!

“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.

Grey eyes, jagged black tattoos and sandy blonde hair crammed into a tight black shirt and pants. “Don’t attack! I’m White Forest, I’m White Forest!”

Then she took a good look at his tattoos. Her gaze traced the ink that stretched across his chest, dark and patterned against his golden skin. The tattoo sprawled over his left pectoral, a fierce black wolf, its eyes red and dangerous, as if it could leap off his skin and bare its fangs at her. The details were breathtaking, each strand of fur etched with perfection.

In black, grey and blue ink, beautiful, intricate patterns of floral and wing designs mar my skin, but at its centre, Zefiro name sits majestically in stunning calligraphy. The bastard tattooed his name into my skin.