Ethel Cain Tattoos Novels & Stories

I didn’t think I would be able to survive any longer in that bag. I felt them slice open the top of the bag, narrowly missing my hair by a few strands. When I saw light finally, I thought it was my call to escape, and crawled out of the bag with my free legs. Only to realise I was in another prison. Another den. The feeling of being in that den, although it was diverse from Lenard Lee’s, terrified me to my core. The walls were painted black and the men sported black shirts, like a uniform, but what frightened me further were their tattoos. They were written in Thai language, with no way for me to make out what they meant.

They are semi-naked with only loose pants hanging dangerously low on the waist, giving a sensual view. This is the first view I have of Cain’s back. I never thought I was into this sort of thing but… you can tell he looks that way from hard work. The muscles on his back are chiselled to perfection and I see dark tattoo’s over his arm, it adds to the big bad Alpha look and I am completely enthralled. I am still engrossed in my admiration of the well-sculpted man when I feel hot breaths fanning the side of my neck. I shriek pulling back and I see Zylith looking at me with a stupid grin on her face.

Only I knew she was alive and the tattoos were meaningful, still are. The tattoo was inspired by Talitha. She got a tattoo of a snake shedding its skin with a tiny butterfly next to it. I loved it. The work was implacable, I couldn't draw my eyes away from it, it was us. I wanted my own so I got the same tattoo on the side of my waist, right below my ribs on the tight. Mine is the opposite, a snake is wrapped around the butterfly playfully with a the quote, "Evil and good both win." That was two years ago. Adrian likes that tattoo the most, he adorns it with his mouth every time he has me bound to his bed, he likes it. He joked he would get my name on him but as much as I want my name on him

Cain is mated to Ethel. Then why didn't he claim her if he was mated to her, why did he abandon her all these years and suddenly come back into her life? I am not a fool to know that he wants her back now and he wants something else from me. Something I need to figure out quickly before he strikes again, "You are not to see him again and if he does appear to you, you will call out to me." A frown settles on her face at my order, "There was something he wanted to tell me, please let me at least allow him to tell me," she pleads with me.

“No walls meant to keep people out. Just a place to gather.” I squeeze his hand. “I like that.” He hesitates, then reaches into his pocket. My heart jumps. It’s not a ring—not exactly. It’s a carved band of dark wood, etched with subtle symbols that shimmer faintly when he turns it in the light. Wolf. Land. Bond. “I didn’t know how humans do this,” he admits. “So I made it our way.” Emotion crashes through me, fierce and overwhelming. “Ethan—” “I’m not asking for forever because destiny says so,” he says steadily. “I’m asking because I want to wake up beside you when things are boring. When we’re tired. When the hardest fight is deciding who gets the last cup of non-poisonous tea.”

Ethan, caught in the haze of his own release, tumbled back against the footboard, his chest heaving, his cock still dripping and red. Madison scrambled to the corner of the bed, her eyes glowing a lethal, predatory silver. She grabbed a discarded sheet to cover her nakedness, her hands trembling with a sudden, icy clarity. "The mark, Ethan," she hissed, her voice a serrated edge. "The tattoo on your shoulder. I’ve seen it twice tonight. Once on the men who tried to put a needle in my brain, and now on you." Ethan blinked, the gold in his eyes receding as he reached for her. "Madi, wait, I can—"

That night, Henry finally let go of all restraint. The room lay in shadow, and he pressed me against the floor-to-ceiling window, the lights of Riverton flickering like stars beyond the glass. “Claire…” “Yes?” “I want to get another tattoo.” “Where?” He gripped my hand and pressed it to his lower back, mirroring the spot that corresponded to mine. There, with each of his breaths, a faint outline of a feral totem emerged. “I want to tattoo your image. I want to carve you into my bones forever.”