Blood Thinner Tattoo Novels & Stories

Pressing my fingers to my temple, I replied helplessly, "What do you mean, 'do'? We're not the mafia here. Can you speak like a normal person, please?" "Are you just going to sit back and let this slide? I'm not okay with that." "I won't let it slide." I would not do anything reckless, but I would not let Ethan get off easy either. I wanted him to remember my name for the rest of his life. I wanted it etched into his heart, burned into his skin, a mark so deep that it could never be erased even if he scraped off his flesh. "Don't hurt her." The voice on the other end paused in surprise. "What?"

The metal taste filled my mouth, but I knew it was going to be worse. “Hold my hands.” Maddox held out his hands for me. I didn’t realize mine was shaking until he held them still. “Okay. So I am going to mark the artery on your next. You must bite down hard enough to pierce it with your fangs and then drink his blood for a minute straight and vice versa. While you do that, I will be injecting a herb combination into the I.V. bags. When your saliva starts flowing through the veins, the tattoo will appear and run down your chest. It’s more of a burning sensation from what I have been told.”

The bell above the tattoo shop door jingled as I pushed it open, my heart hammering against my ribs. I’d been thinking about this for months — finally getting ink on my breasts, something delicate and feminine to reclaim my body after a shitty breakup. The shop was called Ink & Skin, tucked into a quiet corner of the city with blacked-out windows and neon signs that hummed faintly. It was late afternoon, and the place was empty except for the artist behind the counter.

Mario said. "What does that mean?" Candela asked. "It is not safe for a newly tattooed body to donate blood to a patient," Alfredo said. "Fuck. Why would you draw tattoos in this critical situation, boy?" Dante asked. Mario scoffed. "How am I supposed to know that some bastard would poison my dad with a fucking strange poison?!"

I let go of him and took the disinfectant towel Jasper handed me, carefully wiping my hands. "People who've been tainted… I don't want those either." Joshua went rigid, all color draining from his face. I gave a slight nod to the tattoo artist I had called in. The artist picked up his machine and began marking Joshua's body without hesitation. Joshua screamed. One stroke after another, the ink carved itself into his skin, his arms, his neck, even his face, leaving behind glaring red text. He cried, begged, then cursed. By the end, he lay collapsed on the floor, his body covered in grotesque red markings.

The syringe slowly sucked up the mysterious liquid, filling the clear chamber. My eyes locked onto the medicine, a sudden wave of suspicion hitting my mind. The fluid inside the tube wasn't clear or translucent like normal medicine; it was a thick, milky white color that looked incredibly heavy and strange. Veronica stepped closer to the edge of the bed, gently peeling back the heavy white sheets to expose my bare leg, right below the fresh bandage around my thigh. Without a second of warning, she precisely drove the sharp needle straight into my skin, pushing the thick white liquid deep into my muscles.

"You tattoo artists are always covered in blood. I'd think you'd be used to it." Kai grinned, a flash of white teeth. "That's other people's blood. Very different. Other people's blood is just part of the job. My blood is a design flaw." Marcus felt something tighten in his chest at the smile. He ignored it and walked over to the supply cabinet. He gathered a suture kit, a syringe of lidocaine, antiseptic, and a fresh stack of gauze. He brought everything back to the exam table and set it on the metal tray.

He remained still and often engaged in a small chat with me to show that he was all right for I was a bit agitated as I scanned the way his skin bruised and bled. When she wipes away the excess drops of his blood in completion I examine the tattoo over his red puffed skin. It consists of a total of four elements beginning with a wide circle and inside the circle are two equally beautiful but distinct flowers and one crown. Perhaps from an outsider's view, it would seem like a feminine design one that females would prefer and definitely not Phobos. But he said there was a meaning behind it and I am utterly interested. "Thank you. I shall return in a few days to get the rest finished."

My knuckles were pale beneath the sticky sheen of blood that wasn’t mine. Zach stood in the middle of the carnage, his chest rising and falling, each breath labored but steady. There was blood on him that is not his, not this time, it's splattered across his shirt, painting over the tattoos that marked him. I traced them instinctively with my eyes, the ones I used to follow with my fingertips in quiet, fragile hours when the world outside our bed didn’t exist. Now they were obscured, swallowed by the stains of violence.

We sprinted across the street, the bell above the door of INK jangled aggressively as we walked in. The place was exactly what you’d expect, loud rock music, neon signs, and a guy with more piercings than teeth cleaning a needle gun behind the counter. He glanced up, taking in the sight of two women, "What can I get for you ladies?" the artist asked, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. "We do not do flash art here, and no, we won't tattoo your dog." "It's for a friend," Claire announced brightly, pointing to me. "She needs a small, single-letter tattoo. Very personal. Very delicate. Immediate appointment preferred. We're on a tight schedule."