Dantes Inferno Tattoo Novelas e Histórias

Will Dante help me? ******************************************

But then again, she didn't have anything else to wear. "Dante?" She called out but he responded with upstairs. She decided to check out what he was doing. It was one room from the angle she heard his voice from. Without knocking, she opened the door to see him slipping a shirt on. Her eyes were quick to catch his hardened abs and the lion head tattoo inscribed on his back. His front side wasn't left out of the inking. He had little inscribed words just close to his neck and torso. "Gimme a few. I'll drop you off." He said pleadingly but Cora was disappointed. She was hoping he would make a move on her or something. She closed the door, heat flushing through her blood.

I push open the door and instantly regret it. Dante is in the center of the training mat, running a hand through his tousled messy hair. He’s shirtless, with a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his waist. A choked sound almost escapes the back of my throat at the sight of all that tattooed skin. He’s covered in ink from his collarbone down to the waistband of his sweatpants. And he’s fit. Eight-pack abs, well-defined chest, and broad, muscled shoulders. My eyes follow the V that disappears behind his waistband along with his ink. A wave of heat crashes through me.

I hid behind a tall statue near the wall, heart slamming in my chest. My eyes wandered to the other part of the room where Dante stood, his tattoos glistened under the red light, veins bulging down his arms as he pulled on black gloves. A girl was already waiting, she was different from the one I saw that day and I noticed she was tied at the wrists, wearing nothing but lingerie. She looked like she had waited for this her whole life and Dante? He looked like a god. No, worse. Like the devil who knew your pleasure before you even whispered it.

He tapped the ink over his heart. “This isn’t just a tattoo. It’s a warning… and a promise.” Alessia’s breath hitched as his shadow fell over her, thick with heat and memory. Her fingers curled around the blanket, her voice barely above a whisper. “A promise of what?” Dante’s eyes darkened, a storm behind them. He leaned in, so close she could feel the ghost of his breath on her lips. “That no matter how far you run… no matter who you let touch you…

She changed quickly, washed off her makeup at the sink in the closet area, and tried to calm her racing heart. "You can do this," she told her reflection. "It's just sleeping. People sleep next to each other all the time. It doesn't mean anything." But when she opened the closet door and saw Dante already in bed, her breath caught. He'd stripped down to black boxer briefs and nothing else. The sheets were pulled up to his waist, but his entire torso was exposed to all lean muscle and dangerous grace. And the tattoos. God, the tattoos. The fallen angel on his right arm was even more detailed than she'd imagined, wings spread across his shoulder and chest. But it was the scars that made her fr

The hoodie draped loosely over his head, obscuring his face, but the flicker of city lights occasionally illuminated the sharp lines of his jaw and the hints of a sinister smirk playing on his lips. The wind picked up, a fierce breeze whipping across the rooftop and causing the hood to flutter. As the fabric shifted, it revealed a chiseled, muscular torso adorned with intricate tattoos, each line telling a story of violence, power, and mystery. Prominently displayed on the left side of his chest was a large, bold tattoo—the words *Nosce Hostem* inked in a jagged, menacing script that seemed almost to pulse with life against his skin. The tattoo, a clear message, spoke of a deep connection to

“Something exclusive.” “Exclusive? Sure. I’ll have him recommend some.” Soon a batch of designs came through. Forrest introduced them seriously. “Demon tattoo, also called a slave mark. Usually on the lower abdomen. You know what it means. But people who get this are usually women…” Forrest turned his head and saw Lorenzo studying the designs with full focus. A chill ran down his spine. “Bro, you are not thinking of doing this, right?” Lorenzo stubbed out his cigarette and said calmly, “She said she wanted to leave her exclusive mark on me.”

He didn't even relent. He fell on the ground with a crack sound and blood spluterring out of his mouth. I moved closer and scoffed at the now, limp and lifeless body. He didn't even last three moves. One hit and he was gone. I was about to leave but then i saw a familiar mark underneath Dante's half burnt coat. It wasn't a scar caused by me. It was a tattooed mark that expressed loyalty to the master. What surprised me wasn't the tattoo but the content the tattoo mark symbolised.

He had a white wolf tattooed on the side of his neck. ​"Romanov," I breathed, the "Secret Genius" in me already mapping out the breach. "They didn't send an army, Dante. They sent a Ghost Team. They’re already inside the air vents." ​Dante grabbed my arm, hauling me back toward the center of the living room. He didn't look scared. He looked insulted. ​"Mine," he growled. It wasn't a mouthed word this time. It was a low, guttural vibration that rumbled from his chest.