Novel & Cerita Dantes Inferno Tattoo

Dante stepped into the room, and the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. He had discarded his charcoal suit jacket somewhere between the elevator and here. His white silk dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, the top few buttons undone to reveal the heavy, coiling ink of the snake tattoo at his throat and the sharp cut of his collarbone. He looked less like the calculated Don from the office and more like a dangerous animal that had finally been let out of its leash. He paused in the doorway, his stormy grey eyes locking onto me with terrifying precision. His gaze dragged over me, slow and deliberate, cataloging every inch, before a dark, unreadable expression settled over his imposs

The sharp click of the lock echoed through the silence like a bullet. Then, there was only the quiet. Dante set his glass down on the coffee table and slowly rose from the couch. He was massive, easily six-foot-four of pure muscle, his white dress shirt straining violently against his chest. As he stepped out of the shadows, the low light caught the dark runes tattooed up his forearms and twisting around his thick neck. He walked toward me, each slow step feeling like a panther stalking a trapped meal. The heavy scent of cedar, rain, and pure Alpha dominance flooded my senses, making my head spin.

Dante. Leaning casually against the window, half-naked, holding a glass of amber whiskey like he was in a cologne commercial. His tattoo curled down the side of his torso like it had been drawn by sin itself, highlighting every sculpted inch of his abs. And that smirk—God, that smirk. Equal parts arrogant and devastating. What on earth was wrong with you, Scarlet? Why do you want to pounce on him? “Why am I here?” I asked, trying to sound firm, though my eyes may have lingered a little too long on his chest.

I smiled, though my body trembled slightly with unease. He smirked, his eyes darkening as he sauntered towards me. Slowly, he reached out, invading my space. My gaze drifted to his chest, where intricate tattoos sprawled across his skin, half of his left chest completely inked. There was a large python coiled menacingly, its fangs bared as if ready to strike. Surrounding it were other symbols—a bleeding dagger, an intricate skull wrapped in thorns, and a blood moon rising behind them all. The ink seemed almost alive, dark and haunting, like it held secrets too dangerous to reveal. I had seen something like this before. The imagery was disturbing, almost as if he were part of some secretive c

She was trying to barter with Dante to remove his shirt so that she could see his yummy tattoos. My mother and I shared a laugh before I went to Dante’s rescue. My mate was holding his own against my horny grandmother. His glee floated down the bond, and I could see how much he truly liked her. She could be overwhelming to some, but he just embraced it. “I designed Ziyah’s tattoo. I can definitely do one for you too if you’d like. But you’ve got to either make it creative or give me free reign to design it on my own,” Dante said, flashing his signature smirk.

kicked in. Dante was suspended in the center of that boiling hell. I could see the steam rising from his skin, the "Alpha-Wolf" tattoos on his chest flaring a desperate, dying white against the encroaching red. He wasn't screaming. Dante Thorne didn't scream. But his jaw was set so tight I thought his teeth would shatter, and his eyes—those nebula-grey eyes that had been my only North Star in the slums—were locked onto mine.

His hands, folded across his chest were covered in tattoos—from the knuckles to his wrist in dark patterns. ”De Rossi.” He grinned. Lucian’s gaze swept the men behind him, their guns. Then back to Dante’s face. ”Do you plan to raid me, Dante?” Dante threw a soft glance over his shoulders, just a slight turn of his head across his men and their guns. Then he faced forward again. ”You know how this goes.” His voice was low. “I don’t travel light. You of all people should know that.” Silence settled for a moment. Their gazes held each other.

A subtle gesture of “taming.” I ate anyway. My body needed it. Then I lay on the bed—clean now, wearing the robe—and tried to sleep. But sleep didn’t come. Only the void. That’s when I heard the door open again. Dante entered. This time without the jacket. Just a white shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms. Black tattoos winding across tanned skin. A leather bracelet on his wrist. A man made of shadows and control. — Feeling better? — he asked, like it was a normal question.

I’m hardly able to think. "The black one is Gabriel’s wolf, the gray one is Dante, and the third one represents the pack." she looks up at me when I finally squeeze out an answer. She nods and looks at my chest again. I do too, and my dick grows harder as I see her nipples like stiff peaks pressing through her bra and top. I reach up to touch it, but her fingers trace my stomach under my left chest before I can. She starts reading the names that are tattooed on it.

Dante took Natalie to the bathroom and helped clean her up. She just stood there and let him do it. Natalie watched as Dante focused on bathing her. His naked upper body caught her attention. She noticed several scars on Dante’s chest and stomach. She slowly touched them. “Is your life so dangerous?” she asked softly. “Enough to keep me on my toes,” Dante replied indifferently. He bent down to rub Natalie’s leg with bath gel. His treatment was so gentle that Natalie felt comfortable. She held on to his shoulder and looked at the tattoo on his left shoulder. It was a small tattoo of a vine wrapped around a winged sword. Looking at it made her feel like she was being pulled into a fantasy worl