Every Saint Has A Past Tattoo Novels & Stories

“It’s the least I can do.” Dante scoffed. “The devil that I have as a best friend cares about nobody but himself. So are you lying to me, or are you lying to yourself? In case you forgot, he’s not the Jade you knew when you were kids. He does not even remember you.” His words stung but he didn’t stop there. “People like us don’t deserve love. We don’t get to have Happy Endings. Whatever is going on in your head, stop it now before it's too late. End this thing with the Benedittis, we have bigger fish to fry.”

Finding his gaze unnerving, she instantly flickered her gaze down. Her cheeks flushed when she realized he wasn’t wearing any shirt. His rugged body resembled a canvas. A number of tattoos spread across his tanned chest. There was a tattoo of a serpent designed on his upper left chest and the other side had roman numbers written on it. Her eyes traveled down his bulging biceps and paused at a tattoo that caused her a tinge of discomfort. Her eyes widened slightly when she noticed the evil symbol, a sigil of Baphomet branded on his bicep. Being a devotee of god, the discovery scandalised her. Why would anyone get that? Not a moment later, she realized it wasn’t the only one, he also had an un

Mark was slightly taller than I and was a hundred and ninety pounds of rock solid muscle, his shoulders were wide and his waist narrow, he was not muscle bound, but there was not a damn thing on him that was not exactly where it should be including a set of abs that would make a twenty year old jealous. Mark, like me in a sleeveless shirt caught a bit of attention. Both of his arms shoulder to elbow were covered in enormous tattoo's, on the right was Pan the Celtic devil; horns, hooves and red eyes glaring, on the left was an incredibly detailed image of the Pale rider of revelations fame. With his build, the tats and his five o clock shadow Mark was flaunting the "Bad Boy" look and carried

My second favourite is his sleeve tattoo, it is a tribute to his sisters. I love how all his tattoos have meaning, unlike mine. I have two tattoos, the first one I ever got was a matching tattoo with Talitha. We found her Dad's gun and decided to explore with it, we had seen him work a few times so we gave it a go. I was the first to tattoo half a heart on her wrist with "spice" engraved in tiny cursive writing.

I understood his reaction, and so did Nico because Sienna hasn’t just earned her stripes as a Dragonetti woman. She had her back tattooed like us; the Dragonetti dragon splayed over the entirety of her back. I remember how painful it felt when I got it since we had to do at least 5 sessions, but this woman endured it. She endured the blade when they cut her, now, she endured the needle as it marked her. If there was anyone worthy of calling a badass, it would be Sienna. Dante breaks off their kiss and spins her around, admiring the tattoo on her back.

He whispered, “I have a lot of tattoos under this uniform. Wanna see?" "Not now." He laughed mischievously. “You can get tattoos?” "Yes, I'm a tattoo artist, working at Johnson parlor." "Gallery Row?" “New branch, in Sante Alley.” He nodded slightly. His legs moved cheerfully. “I want to tattoo my body in a special part next time. Can you make one?” "Sure, anywhere, I'll make it." I played Sea games on purpose just to get my revenge on that steroid overdose bastard. How does it feel to see your boyfriend being teased by a thug, hmm?

There is no point in doing anything right now so I keep quiet. The whole place is filled with scary-looking tattoed dudes. Bored, I started noticing the scary guy's tattoos. It's a skull, a red skull with wings and a cross. The tattoo is bright and dull at the same time. The cross it clutches seems more like a trophy than a symbol of hope, stained with a history whispered only in faded scars. Bright and dull, a paradox mirroring the struggle between survival and surrender. Art sure is fascinating. Someone walked up to him just then. He looks me up and down, "who is this, chick."

The only word that came to mind was drool worthy. My eyes were drawn to the tattoos that littered his body. The ones that lined his chest and ribs caught my attention and I badly wanted to know what they were. My fingers twitched at my sides wanting to go over there and run them across the tattoos. He threw his shirt off to the side and turned fully towards me. I couldn't stop myself from asking. "What are your tattoos of?" "Oh these." He glanced down at the ones on his chest. "This one," He pointed to the symbol on his left peck. "is the Marine's symbol. And this says 'Move mountains or die trying'." He touched the quote that was on his ribs.

My God, help me, I am dying and there will be no one who can come to save me! Her back was as well defined as her abdomen but the tattoo, God the tattoo made her stand out in such a striking way that I was sure drool would come out of my mouth at that moment, the tattoo was alluding to marine things I couldn't get the slightest bit of that doubt, but could not define what things were.

The tattoo that once symbolized our love had been completely covered by her family's crest. Just like my mark on his life was being erased, piece by piece. "Isn't it beautiful?" Isabella had appeared beside me. She raised her wine glass, a victorious smile on her face. "Did you see it? The tattoo," she continued. "Dante told me it was an impulsive mistake from his youth. It's finally been corrected." I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.