Blood Sweat And Tears Tattoo Charlotte 소설 & 이야기

Some glanced over curiously, while others hurried away, clearly not wanting to get involved. Charlotte let out a cold laugh and snapped, “You’re like a toad pretending to be a prince. Ugly and gross.” The tattooed man’s face darkened. “What did you just say to me?” he barked, spitting as he launched into a string of filthy curses. Charlotte casually rolled her wrists, cracking her knuckles, her expression cool and taunting. “What’s that smell? Did you just finish licking a toilet?” A dangerous glint flashed in her eyes. “Oh, you want to play?” she scoffed. “Fine. I’ll play with you. Just don’t come crying and begging for mercy later.”

The lady exclaimed in pain, "How could you do this to her?!" "Because Long Sheng Jie has its rules." He drew in his brows to stop his emotions from taking over. "This is the price for falling in love with a fallen angel, the price for betraying the entire of your species." He flapped his robe and pointed to the dead man in her embrace. "You've shed too many tears... for a creature like him." Letting out a smirk of pain, she blinked away the tears welling up in her swollen eyes. "So, in the end... it's my tears' curse?"

I wonder why I didn't pick up his scent when I first entered the library. From his appearance he looked like he meant business. He seems like he's seen better days though. His clothes were torn in quite a few places, his shirt being the worst ripped open, revealing pale white skin underneath with his six pack torso, his chest was covered in bites and scratches. His brown hazel hair was matted with dark blackish red blood and leaves. He has a holster carrying two Katonah swords, slinged over his shoulder and back, with a medium size silver plated hunting knife tucked in his left boot.

He replied, "It's nothing, Miss Sophia. How may I help you?" Nancy didn't want to stare upward at Charles' masculine chest, though she caught a glimpse of the star tattoo on his chest. Charles has an eagle tattoo on his left arm and a cross symbol on his right arm. He said to Nancy, "I will be out soon, please wait." Charles quickly dashed back into his room, took a shirt, wore it, and stepped back out still tying only a white towel around his waist. He asked her, "What do you want, Miss Sophia?"

“You’re lucky you’re hot.” “I know I’m hot,” Charlotte purred, sauntering toward me. “But I’m also starving, so let’s get you fed before you tattoo a smiley face into someone’s spine.” Charlotte turned, said something about grabbing napkins from the storage shelf, and walked toward the back of the studio. I just watched my baby, as I leaned on the chair, sipping from the bottle of Gatorade. Then it happened. One of the walk-in clients—some thick-necked idiot with a smirk —got up from the waiting couch and sauntered behind Charlotte. I watched him in rage as he reached out and smacked Charlotte’s ass.

His life was going smoothly, all thanks to her. He would spend hours in the shower scrubbing the dirt off his body. Dirt? There was no dirt. He was trying to wash her blood off his hands. He felt so unclean ever since she said those last words in his arms. He would scrub hard for hours non-stop, Charlotte's blood never left his hands. They were tattooed there for all who he came across to see. He would step out of the shower after feeling sore and cold and just one look in the mirror, her smiling face would remind him he was still dirty, still unclean.

“Your turn.” “I’m not getting a tattoo.” He shrugged. “Didn’t think you would.” “Oh, fuck you. Fine.” I settled for two small tattoos. One of a pair of cherries with a bite mark above my right breast. “Those yours?” He smirked. “Because I’d bite harder.” I rolled my eyes at him but the tattoo artist found it funny. I got another one. “𝒮𝒾𝓃” on my side, under my left breast.

I watch in awe as happy tears spill from her baby blue eyes as a huge smile contorts her beautiful face. Charlotte lifted her hands and there, as clear as day, was a moon shape tattoo that wasn’t there before and it was an exact match to the one on my shoulder. All the air left my lungs in a whoosh. FUCK! Slowly rising to my feet, I took a step back, breathing in and out as the two females cautiously watch as I brought myself under control. This was going to be harder than I thought. How the hell was I to explain any of this to the elders, to the pack?

Not the sickly green of the tattoo, but the familiar, stormy gray of my mate. He shifts and stumbles slightly. "Charlie," he rasps. "Kaleb," I breathe, dropping the knife. My hands are shaking so hard I can barely feel them. He takes a step toward me, and I see it. A deep, jagged slash runs across his ribs, cutting right through the fading tattoo. Blood is pouring from it, dark and fast. Another bite mark on his arm is weeping crimson. He doesn't seem to feel it. His eyes are frantically scanning me, checking for injuries.

THIRD POV Scarlett removed the mark on her arm before entering the suite. Jaguar didn’t put on a real tattoo on her because it seems the man wanted to tease her. “I swear, I’ll kill you! Argh!” she mumbled as she tossed the alcohol into the trash, then looked down at her swollen arm from rubbing it. “Damn, they’ll wonder what happened to my arm. TSK.” “You’re back, Scarlett.” It startled Scarlett when the door to their suite opened, so she hid her arm, so her companions wouldn’t notice. She finally entered their suite after nodding.