Ethel Cain Tattoos Novels & Stories

"I am a living walking killing machine of mass destruction. If I touch you, and you are not who you think you are, you might go through intense pain and most likely die from I under thirty seconds, pass thirty minutes and you survive, but if you survive and feel nothing, or experience no pain then sadly then you are just like me." Ethan asked in a low voice. "Why you?" I smile at him and slowly pull up my sleeves, revealing to him my tattoos as they slowly become visible. It slowly spreads all the way to my neck and finally stops, Ethan gasped in astonishment as he ran back. "Believe me Ethan, we all have our secrets, dark secrets to hide, and when the time is right, I'll let you know all a

Alpha Ethan was a man in his late thirties, standing at about 5’7, and his appearance was unusual, yet impossible to ignore. Ethan was dressed in red leather pants that clung tightly to his legs, paired with a plain white T-shirt and a matching red leather jacket thrown over it. His ginger-colored hair was tied into a messy man bun at the back of his head, making him seem so odd and at the same time giving him a weird, careless but striking look. Also, a tattoo of a naked woman was on his neck, adding to the dangerous aura he carried.

I stabbed him, pinning his hands to the ground and then I got my knife from my boot. I carved my initials and the pack's initials on his abdomen deep hoping it would not heal and fold back up. I wanted it to be a permanent reminder of all the things that he has done, allowing them to haunt him. I heard Caleb long before he approached, standing up to examine my artwork on the semi-conscious Ethan and handing the blade over to him, allowing him to take the reins. "He's all yours," I tell him and walk into the night...glad that the war was over.

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.

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.