Ethel Cain Tattoos Novels & Stories

He thought again, "sinuous, dangerous and supremely sexual." One tattoo in particular was prominent and drew the eye; it was a bright red "slut stamp" very low on her lower back that was repeated low on her belly, just above the pubic mound. It said, in both locations, "Candy Slut to Paulo Zero." The words of the tattoo were in a pre-Columbian language that Barnes would never have a hint of. In addition, like a Bay area poster from the psychedelic era the tat's lettering was very stylized, even if it was in English it would be near impossible to read. Some English word fragments were visible in the edging and lines of the distorted shapes. Incorporated into the tat were sexual images and tri

Each man wore the mark. Different symbols etched into skin: a serpent coiled around a sword on the left forearm of one, twin wolves snarling beneath a bleeding moon on the wrist of another, a skeletal crown on the palm of a third, and a phoenix swallowing its own tail just above the elbow of the last. Each tattoo pulsed faintly, dark and ancient, remnants of an allegiance born of secrecy, ambition, and old blood.

And yet. "S-Stop this..." she panted. Zalakai's eyes narrowed as he looked her over again. Scars covered her body, but not as dark as the ones on her back. She had said nothing else about admitting her "Father" was the one to cause her harm. He couldn't recall anything about her parents. He knew she was an orphan at a young age, but nothing else from that. Tattoos covered her arms, her chest, her sternum and her neck. Tribal. Old traditional tattoos decorated her throat. Tribal lined her collarbone and sternum. Both of her arms were full of water colored art with what appeared to have proverbs quoted in spots. Her ribs were also inked. Her right side was with a Phoenix and the left side with

By the time I lifted my gaze, Elion was already sitting in front of me just like Hael. His shirt was off his body. His back was bare and I saw his tattoo. Unlike Hael's, his were bold, colorful, and very vibrant, stretching from his shoulder blades to his lower back. It was a Phoenix. A big one. With large wings inked in gold, red, and black colours. The beak was open, as if it were screeching. Its talons extended as if it had just risen from ashes. It looked powerful, just like Elion.

I frown, and then add, "irritatingly so, if you're not counting this past week of his mood swing." “It is true.” His eyes look back to me. “Afterward, his mother—gods bless her soul, she was a magnificent Luna—made a pact with the Moon Goddess. She offered her life in exchange for a powerful binding seal that would contain that darkness within him forever. The tattoos you see are the literal physical manifestation of that seal. They glow like molten light whenever he channels the forbidden power.” My mind flashes back to the night I was chased, when Isla broke out of me. That night, when Zeke stood at Ethan's door, his tattoos were glowing.

His eyes, an intense shade of dark gray, sparkled with the intensity of distant constellations, promising a journey into uncharted territories. Caleb's figure moved with a feral grace, a reflection of the untamed spirit that resided within him. His every step echoed the dance of shadows beneath the moon, a testament to a life unbound by conventional constraints. Tattoos adorned his arms, celestial patterns that seemed to echo the cosmic symphony that accompanied his every movement.

about a month from now. One afternoon, as Ethan left Ryan's company, he passed by a tattoo shop and seemed to have an idea. He used to look down on tattoos, thinking it was foolish for a guy to get a girl's name tattooed on his body. But now, being deeply in love, Ethan committed this foolish act. He got Isabella's name tattooed on the scar where he had been shot while protecting her. In the evening, Ethan messaged Isabella. [Where are you? I'll come pick you up for dinner.]

she observes. “That’s the ink,” I groan, drowning in the sensations she's evoking, wishing she’d explore my front again. I hold still as she pets along the markings etched into my flesh, grateful she’s touching me at all. “It’s a tattoo of the Thorn,” I barely manage to explain.

Therefore Cain is here too. Noah sits in my lap, purring while either tracing the part of my tattoo that comes out of the top of my shirt or playing with the short hair on top of my head. I have a sleeve tattoo that comes up my arm and over my shoulder then up my neck slightly on my right side. It peeks out of any shirt I wear, including a tux if I need to wear one. Either way, he's completely in his own little world that is me. He's not even embarrassed that he's purring in front of everyone. (which he usually would be embarrassed) It's literally like no one else is in the room but him and I.

--- In the kitchen, I steadied myself and brought out the silver tray, careful not to shake. As I returned, one of his friends leaned in close—too close. "She’s got a nice little figure, Black," he said, voice low but not quiet enough. "Bet she keeps you real warm at night." Laughter erupted. I froze mid-step. And Jaxon? He didn’t flinch. He chuckled. Sipped his drink. Like it was nothing. Like I was nothing. I turned toward him. "Jaxon—" He stood abruptly and grabbed my elbow. The tray wobbled.