Ethel Cain Tattoos Novels & Stories

He dialed a number, then waited. “Elder Degas?” he asked. “This is Alpha Chris. I need the Elders here to witness a banishment.” Chris waited a moment, then nodded. “Yes. Immediately.” As Chris slid his phone back into his pocket, Ethan took two steps to stand directly before him. “You have no right.” “Unlike what Olivia wanted, I’m not burning off anyone’s markings. There are many establishments in the Human World that specialize in tattoo removal. I suggest you make use of one.”

He just hoped Lucian would have dressed before he got back. Ethan winced at the ache in his neck and reached for it, gently rubbing. Had he slept with his neck in the wrong position? He sighed and finally looked at his reflection in the large mirror before him. Ethan knitted his brows at the sight of a strange dark pattern on his neck. A stain? Where did that come from? He reached up to try rubbing it off, but the mark remained. What the hell is it? The shape resembled a crystal—dark and weirdly intriguing. Ethan hated tattoos, so how could he have gotten one… overnight?

Crystal River Pack There was a change in Electra once she was released from her bond. She was still sweet and kind. The girls were still her world. Her complete self did not change. And yet, it did. She was no longer submissive. Her hair became shorter, and she became more comfortable wearing makeup. She wasn’t quite ready for short shorts or skirts, but she did wear jeans more. Celeste took her to the tattoo shop, and they covered her brands. On her left arm among swirls and stars was the William Shakespeare quote of “This above all, to thine own self be true.” And on the right was the moon goddess with a hellhound.

I should walk away but my hand is already pressing against the door pushing it open before my brain can catch up and then I see him. Ethan stands by the foot of the bed his broad shoulders backlit by the dozen candles he’s lit some on the dresser some on the nightstands even a few balanced precariously on the windowsill. The flames dance across his skin, turning his tattoos into living things, shifting ink beneath the glow. He’s wearing dark jeans the kind that mold to his thighs like a second skin and a black henley with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows exposing the corded muscles of his forearms. His hands are loose at his sides but his fingers twitch just once like he’s fighting the ur

Rain began to fall as we walked, our path illuminated by flashes of lightning. “We need a clinic, maybe a hospital,” I urged. “No,” he said firmly. “Hospitals are too dangerous right now.” The woman driving the truck that had stopped for us noticed Ethan’s tattoo and whispered, “Don Salvador?” Their eyes met, and without another word, she raised her wrist, revealing the same mark. Ethan nodded. “She’s on our side,” he said quietly. ♣️ ETHAN ♣️ “Not you too,” I said, amusement in my voice as Marlene tried to hide her worry.

His eyes lit up as he asked, “You ready?” I gave a small nod as his hand went to lift the blanket. I peered down and he unveiled my tattoos. Blackened licorice vines weaving into intricate braids. Obsidian ropes wound down my inner thighs, cloaking the scars. Ombre lilies of orange and yellow flaunted in random sequence. Gilded green leaves flitted against my flesh, their color radiating against the darkened vines. The words silenced… like it never happened. “Beautiful,” Kaia’s voice resonated.

Blair Collins was a statuesque woman, not admiring her would have been astonishing. When Ethan turned around, Blair could see the tattoo on his back. It was a pair of black angel wings, drawn in thin, precise strokes. The design was dark, lines she could imagine on the man's personality, not his body. It was as if the tattoo was a warning sign to stay away, to be careful, not to trust. He finished his shower, stopped the powerful cascade of water falling over his body and left the shower. Ethan knew, well before, that he was being watched closely. He walked out of the bathroom and, even though he was exposed by the glass walls, decided not to make eye contact.

I lifted up on my knees and proceeded to straddle him. Ethan’s eyes popped open wide. I sat up and ran a finger very slowly over his naked chest tracing one of his tattoos. This one intrigued me since I saw it. It was a motorcycle with wings. Under the motorcycle was a ribbon with a birth and death date. And his father’s name. I remember when he told me the story. How he, his sister and all the guys at the club that knew Raider got one. And how Merigold had drawn it and Tank did the work. But back to Ethan. “ Well, I like silly Ethan.” I ran my nail over his nipple. I watched it tighten and Ethan sucked in a breath. I held my smirk. I leaned down so my chest was pressed firmly against. I li

The shirt hung to mid-thigh, all my lady parts were covered. As I emerged from the bathroom, Ethan looked up from his phone, his gaze making me feel warm. "You look great in my shirt," he said. I murmured, glancing down, "It's just a shirt." Ethan chuckled and headed to the bathroom. A few minutes later, he returned, shirtless, his body illuminated by the moonlight. His tattoos were now visible, including the one I couldn’t see well that day. He had "Acta Non Verba" inked on his chest in elegant script. I fought the urge to stare openly.

She turned it on, letting the noise fill the quiet. In the reflection, she watched Ethan move behind her, picking up his phone. He scrolled through it, looking relaxed. He’d barely put it down since they got to the villa. That was fine by her—it gave her a little space to think. As she sat drying her hair, her eyes drifted to Ethan’s back. Tattoos stretched across his broad shoulders and down his muscled frame. They weren’t random. She didn’t know what they meant, but she was sure they mattered. Nothing about the Morrettis ever felt careless.